30.3.11

#42 - 42


Ooh, looky guys, it's going to have to be a special post, simply because it's the 42nd post...
Wait no. According to the numbers I've assigned to my posts it's the 42nd, but the total number of posts (including music posts and '*something* of the day' posts) is 55. Or 56, counting this one. Whatever.

This shall be another of Ali's life lessons. Her little old wizened mind stirs and gives you a precious lesson that can only be taught by a wise and knowledgeable person. I'm aware that I come off as a pretentious stuck-up adolescent who thinks she's all clever and that. That would be correct. The rest of this post is going to be all pretentious like. Sorry.

As you (should) know, 42 is the meaning of life (according to Douglas Adams, who wrote The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). 42 is also my house number (stalkers, take note). 42 is the number of one of my many textbooks. OK, that's all there is to the number 42 that's related to me personally.

Perhaps, because of this special number, I should talk about the meaning of life. Not the meaning as in definition. You have the dictionary to find the meaning of life.

I'm talking about the meaning as in purpose of life. I know it. I have the answer, and I'm willing to share it with you. For a price.

The meaning of life is to find happiness. Think of the human existence. Essentially, we're born, we go to school to get qualifications in order to find a good job (that pays well or is satisfying, or both). We get jobs in order to earn money so we can live comfortably and afford luxuries, which in turn, make us happy (whoever said money can't buy happiness was a misguided idiot). All our lives we try to find that one person to love in order to feel happy and complete. It's all about being happy.

Unless of course, you're an emo. But then you feel happy in being sad, which is rather twisted, to be honest.

26.3.11

Revelation of the Day No.2

I finally got it.
Eighteen years of life, and I've finally understood the joke about the chicken.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
To get to the other side.

THE OTHER SIDE.

Good Lord, I never knew how profound that joke was. My mind has been blown.

I bet that chicken must've been depressed.

25.3.11

#41 - The picky homeless man.

So today I had a humungous meal with a few friends. We nearly died eating it all.

Eventually, we gave up and asked for a doggybag to give to a homeless man. To be honest, the unfinished dish looked a bit meh by the end. We'd picked out all the meat and there was nothing left but haw fun.

"Where do we find a homeless man?" I ask.

Janet replies: "Oh there's one in Leicester Square station!" as if she notes down the whereabouts of each.

When we got there, he'd left, probably to bum around some place else. There was one outside the theatre. He sat there in a sleeping bag, with his hood up. What puzzled me was that he was reading a book.

We were a bit wary of him. He had shifty eyes.

Wandi and I walked up to him and I asked if he was hungry.

"Oh, I don't accept food that isn't wrapped," he said, almost turning his nose up.

"...Oh. Right. OK. Well then."

Janet ended up taking it home. Whether she eats it or not is a different question, but even a homeless man didn't want the food.

19.3.11

#40 - Flashin' my ID

I used ID for the first time ever, and this time no one could stop me for any reason because it wasn't fake.
The first and last time I went somewhere where only 18+ year-olds could enter was on New Year's Eve, but that's a different story.

Yesterday Clara and I went to 'The Purple Turtle' in Camden because we'd never been to a random gig, but it was kinda sheet. Serves us right for picking the cheapest place. Oh well.
It was just a load of mediocre rock that I can't remember. This guy came up and tried talking to us, but I, being the most awkward person on the planet, sent him away:
Guy: *Approaches, all smooth like and smiling* So... do you know who's playing here?
Me: (Oblivious) ... Uh, no, but the bartender probably knows. *Points to bar on the other side of the room*
*Pause. Guy hesitates.*
Guy: ...Oh, OK. *Leaves*
Clara: You know, that guy was trying to talk to us.
Me: Oh.
The crowd was tiny but the bands still gave it their all, which was good.
Because we couldn't/didn't want to dance, we did some people-watching instead. There was an awesome guy with a moustache on his face and a picture of a moustache on his t-shirt. There was a cute couple, in which there was a tiny girl and a giant of a man. She was literally as high as his waist. Both of us were thinking that it must be easy for her to give blow-jobs.
We left at about midnight, which is kind of early. Before we left, the guy working at the cloakroom said, "Yeah, I wouldn't blame you. I wouldn't stay if I was paid." But he was paid, and that's what makes the difference.
Thinking of going to a jazz club next time. It sounds more chillaxed. (Gosh, I hate it when people use that word but I use it all the same.) And yes, yes, I like jazz.

We went back and practiced guitar/ukulele on the terrace until our fingers became numb from the cold. We've decided to go busking for Japan. Any suggestions for songs for the playlist would be most welcome!


15.3.11

#39 - I shall remain loyal until the remainder of my days. Maybe.

Uh, so, I got a Tumblr, because the grass is greener there. It's like a massive party over there. In comparison, it's like a retirement home on Blogger. I like it too, because my gran lives there, but it's not so much fun.

Click here to check out ma Tumblr. That shall be where I post my random doodles and funny things, and here is where words of wisdom/bullsheet shall flow from my pen keyboard.

Don't worry, Blogger was, is, and will always be my first love.

10.3.11

#38 - The Maccabees - Toothpaste Kisses

If someone had written this song for me, I'd have married them right away and had their children already.

 Toothpaste Kisses by tributeroche

6.3.11

Revelation of the Day No.1

World population right this moment = 6, 908, 354, 380
No. of days in a year = 365

6, 908, 354, 380 ÷ 365 = approx. 18, 926, 998

So you share your birthday with nearly 19 million other people in the world.
Not so special now, eh?

I spent a stupidly long while just watching the world population clock live, seeing the numbers rise and rise... It's incredible. Thousands of babies have been born since I began this very post.

#37 - Adulthood

I'm officially an adult, now that I'm 18.
D:

People ask me "Does it feel different to be 18?"
Here follow two options:
Option No.1: I go all profound and pensive, putting my hand to my chin and stroking my imaginary beard and in a low and thoughtful voice, I reply, "Deep inside, there has been a change, concealed from the outside; a stirring, like the feeling a caterpillar experiences before it emerges as a butterfly and spreads its wings to fly away."
Option No. 2: I shrug and say "Meh."

I choose No. 2 so people don't run away from me.

So on Friday, Ish and I were thrown a surprise birthday party by the bestest human on the planet, Clara.
I'd had suspicions for a few days...
1) I was going to do something small on Friday, but Dad was violently against it. Like, really really against it, to the point where he was aggressively shouting at me, which weirded me out a bit.
2) Priya acted really oddly and when I moaned to her about how I didn't know what to do for my birthday, she had a really strange expression on her face, as if the whole time she was suppressing a smile or a fart or something.
3) Some people avoided me, or ignored my moaning about what I should do for my birthday.
4) I planned something on Saturday and invited some people. Carrot says: "Oh, I'm not sure I should go to two parties in a row..."
5) I voiced my suspicions to Dad and Doug, and they got a bit angry/miffed/shocked.

I should be a detective.

But ah... It was so awesome! There was delicious food and I had a "Pink Panther" mocktail that had strawberries and cream in it. Ahh... Then we went bowling and we split into two teams. Needless to say, Team Ali, a.k.a. Team Awesome, won by nearly 100 points. I got a strike and two spares (flukes) and there was a lot of victory dancing (i.e. dad-dancing in disguise).
And Clara had been behind all this the whole time! I am indebted to her. I'm awful at expressing myself to people face to face; I gave her an awkward hug and mumbled something like: "Uh... Thanks...Um... So... Grateful... Yeah... Thanks.... Er... Awesome..." but I think she got what I meant.

I got back home at about ten to midnight, and I spent the last ten minutes of my childhood just sitting in my room alone and feeling melancholy and worried about how I'd have to grow up and have responsibilities and that I wasn't Peter Pan and couldn't stay a child forever. I've talked about Peter Pan in a previous post. He's weird, like an elderly child or something. What.
I've always associated grown ups with the clacking sound high heels make on the pavement, with white, starched shirts with cufflinks, with perfume and cologne, with that sense of security - I'd always thought that when I became an adult, I'd be sure of myself and have everything under control, but now that I'm here, I've realised I don't. I have no idea about anything. I don't even own a pair of high heels, but that's got nothing to do with it.

Anyhoo. This is a long post, so I shan't keep you much longer.
I'm just going to leave you with a funny little something from a birthday card I'd read years ago:
"Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live."


3.3.11

#36 - Lonesome George

I like:
Succeeding in helping someone else open a bottle, and then (in my head) being like, "Yerr, look at ma guns," even though they don't exist.

I dislike:
Kraft for stealing Cadbury from us. Also, their salad sauces are awful.

I watched a documentary about the Galapagos Islands and Lonesome George today. It was rather sad, but kind of amusing at the same time.

At first it focussed on Lonesome George (or Solitario Jorge, as they say in espaƱol, haha). He's the last of the Pinta tortoises, which are the largest tortoises on Earth. His species has become extinct primarily because sailors ate them all in the early 20th century, but also because of masculinisation (i.e. all the females died and so there were only males left) and because they fell into ravines, couldn't get out and hence starved to death.

They tried to get him to mate with other tortoises of a different species, but to no avail. There have been speculations that he doesn't know how to go about it and also that he's gay... So the scientists decided to collect some of his sperm and artificially inseminate another tortoise in the hope that Lonesome George's genes could be passed on. To do this, they got a woman to, uh, jerk him off. That was kind of awkward.

Ah! There was this hilarious bit where they decided to eradicate the goat population on the Galapagos Islands. Goats were brought to the islands by man - they weren't native to the Galapagos. However, as the goats were very well adapted to the environment and bred like crazy, the goat population flourished, and ate all the tortoises' food, leaving them to starve. The humans realised this ecological problem and decided to massacre all the goats on the islands. There was this awesome moment in the documentary, where the narrator was like: 'blah blah blah GOAT ERADICATION!' (or something to that effect) and this helicopter rises up in slow-mo from behind some hills and there's dust flying everywhere and the tortoises cower in fear and a man with a sniper rifle hangs out of the helicopter and shoots the goats. The melodrama was amazing.

But Lonesome George is the last living member of his species... When he dies, the Pinta tortoises will be no more and we'll only be able to see them in pictures and film. It's like I Am Legend, and Will Smith is the last human left. Kind of. Not really. Tortoises ≠ Will Smith. That was a stupid comparison and now I'm embarrassed...


2.3.11

#35 - Ma locks

Friend: Ali, you got your hair cut!
Me: (Look of utter shock) What? When? Who did that? How? (Feels hair) Oh my God, how did that happen?
Yeah.
I wish people would stop telling me I had my hair cut as if I didn't know. It's grr.

I was going to get my haircut so I'd look older (good Lord, I'm going to be an adult...) but now I look like a prepubescent boy. Woot.
Well, I was asking for it. I just popped into V&M haircutters (because it's close-ish and cheap - £12 wash and cut for any style - and also because I'm a stinge) and was like, 'Yeah, I'd like it short and messy,' and that's exactly what I got.
I got back home and Doug laughed in my face. 'Hahahahaha! Ali, you look like this boy in my school...'

My fringe keeps poking me in the eyes. Now I remember why I was so against fringes in the first place. Eheu.

The trouble with going to a hairdresser's is that once you sit down in that chair, you are at the complete mercy of the hairdresser. He or she could either make you look absolutely awesome and happy, or the result could be upsetting and you'd have a bad hair day forever - or rather, a bad hair year, or whenever until you next get your hair cut. Dangerous stuff. He who wields the scissors holds the power over you.

Thankfully, hair grows, so I'll look more like a girl in a few months time. Hopefully.

1.3.11

#34 - The Morning Benders - 'I Wanna Be Like You'

Having finally worked out how to integrate music into my Blogger posts (technology isn't my strong point...), I can now show you some awesomeness.

Here are The Morning Benders, doing a cover of Jungle Book's 'I Wanna Be Like You'.
They do the most awesome covers.

  The Morning Benders - I Wanna Be Like You (Jungle Book cover) by JODASHEL