Meet Angela...

Angela says she doesn't feature enough in my blog.  So, here's a post completely devoted to Ange.

The Top Ten Facts About Angela

1. Angela is fluent in nine languages: English, drunk English, German, French, drunk French, underground Swedish, talking-in-wells, Skype-typing, and sleep-talking.
2. Angela is in a gang called Team Girl Squad. If you didn't notice, it's a gang, a team, and a squad. Intense. Sometime the gang also gathers in tents. She enjoys camping (this is not fact #3).
3. Angela loves pickling. Or, perhaps, she actually doesn't like pickling and she's really secretly working on a novel. (This is fact #3.)
4. Angela looooves the word “precious.” She thinks it's precious.
5. Angela names her beers. But classy names, like Alfred.
6. Angela has a dog that looks like an alien trying to look like a dog.
7. Angela could easily be a creeper in a horror movie what with her long creepy hair and her quiet creepy laugh and her penchant for hanging out in wells.
8. Angela thought Peeta of The Hunger Games was named Peter. And then she thought he was named Pita.
9. Angela used to be a goth. Now she's still a goth but she disguises it with lots of stripes (and not in a Tim Burton kind of way).
10. Angela has lived in all parts of the world. ALL of them. Including all those places not on Google Maps like the Arctic waters of Iceland, the Bat Cave, salt mines, some palace in Amsterdam, LAPERLAAA, and my house in England.

Not Bad for a Monday

I am a super sneaky fashion photographer/ee.  I got all these pictures in this awesome fitting room without one customer walking in on me doing my ridiculous poses (thank God, don't need to add anything to the Awkward part of my A&A list).  Today was awesome for five reasons: 1.) had Eggs Benedict for breakfast, 2.) read a bunch of Jane Eyre over a pot of tea at Michael House Cafe, 3.) got to wear my new sweater and jeans (c/o my wonderful mother who spoils me), 4.) it was gorgeous and sunny out again today, and 5.) finally, finally saw The Hunger Games, a film that actually did credit to the book.  Not bad for a Monday, if I do say so myself.

My Week in Photos

Saturday in Spring

Today was such a beautiful day I couldn't resist wearing my new skirt and busting out some summer colors. Ate a marvelous breakfast at Bill's Cafe, spent all afternoon shopping and perusing the various Cambridge markets, and now am resting before a massive Indian dinner. Tomorrow is a day trip to London and the next days promise horseback riding, museum trips, and hopefully more sunshine! Hope you're having a wonderful Saturday!

Awkward

• When my clothes match the furniture I'm sitting on.  
• The amount of dreams I've been having about muggers, rapists, and serial killers. And I'm not even watching Law and Order: SVU!  What is my subconscious trying to tell/warn me about?!
• The construction workers standing RIGHT OUTSIDE my open window, having a smoke while I sit at my desk like three feet away.  Not only is it incredibly awkward, but now my room smells like cigarettes.
• Grinning profusely at someone I thought was my friend only to realize that it was some strange girl who now thinks I'm crazy.
• My constant desire to go frolicking in the gorgeous daffodil fields that surround my college. I'm not kidding, I must have brought it up about ten times in the past week.  And I used the word "frolic" every time. Clearly this is an unfulfilled passion of mine that my friends are just getting here all about now that spring has arrived.
• Bruising my tailbone whilst cantering.  Okay, I'm not positive it's bruised (it sure feels like it) and it's a bit lower than my tailbone (aka my butt), but it's still dreadful.  I am now pretty much incapable of all of the following: sleeping on my back, sitting in chairs, walking at speeds faster than the elderly, bending for anything lower than my waist.  I imagine this is what it's like being crippled AND pregnant at the same time, only without the excuse for bodily malfunction.  I have no idea how long it's going to take to heal, but my horse riding lesson tomorrow should be interesting (and by interesting I mean horribly painful).

Awesome

• Tapas. Because I can never decide what I want to eat. And now I don't have to.  "One of everything, please!"
• Students from our sister college, Balliol, Oxford came to visit.  We had a wonderful dinner in Hall and a rather crazy night out on the town.  Can't wait to visit them in May!
• Scene carding a new screenplay.  It just came to me in a  rush and I had to run over to Ryman to buy notecards so I could plan it out.  Got the opening scenes worked out at Nero over a cup of tea.  Lovely!
• Beautiful spring flowers blooming all over the place, and they're my favorite too (daffodils)!  Makes me sooo happy and frolicky-minded (totally a word, by the way).
• Cheese shopping with my friend.  We've been planning a trip to the Cambridge Cheese Market for AGES.  Yes, this is what we do for fun in England.
• End of term!  Yay!  Done with lectures and classes and supervisions!  Still have a ton of reading and revision work to do over the break, but the key words here are OVER THE BREAK.  
• And since I mentioned Moriarty last week, guess what my London friend showed me!  Below is a picture of me visiting the house that stands in for 221B Baker Street on BBC show Sherlock.  Fan girl squealing and photo-taking ensued, as expected.

So, dear reader, please leave a comment below.  Any Fruedian commentary on my dreams?  Suggestions for healing a bruised tailbone?  Or, if you'd like, you may go on an excited rant about one of the following: a.) Sherlock, b.) frolicking, or c.) Sherlock frolicking.  

Awkward and Awesome Thursday!

Can you believe it's Thursday again? The weeks are flying by and term is over for me in one week! Egadz! Thankfully I only have one more essay to pump out before it's a nice long break of...more work. Oh, yes, dear reader, I get to spend my break pouring over Troilus and Cressida and Cymbeline with a fine-tooth comb, writing essays on the random marbled pages in Tristram Shandy, and critiquing dead people's poetry. Well, okay, I'm being dramatic. My mother's coming to visit (yay!), I'm going to Barcelona (oo la la!), and I'm probably going to watch the BBC's Sherlock again (yippee!). But until then...one more week. And this past week, to consider. As usual, it's been pretty awkward and awesome. Enjoy.

Awkward

• Standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, fixing my hair, listening to my music on my iPod. Then I turn to go into my room and there is a man standing in the middle of my room. My immediate reaction is, “Holy shit! How fast can I get to my pepper spray?!” Then I realize it's my bedder. WHEW! But I think I must have jumped out of my skin and he looked equally alarmed at alarming me. Apparently I didn't hear him knock or open the door. (Cue my mother's comment about my music being too loud.) I'm just thanking God I was only doing my hair in the mirror and not lip-syncing 90s music into my hairbrush as I am wont to do on occasion.
• Attempting to sing a duet of “Kiss the Girl” with a lovely Frenchman. I had two things going against me. I was a bit tipsy. Also I can't sing. It was a major fail.
• How extraordinarily messy my room is. I can't even imagine what my bedder/friends think of me when they see it.
• Going to Primark almost primarily to buy an amazing gummy candy called Strawbs. The cashier probably thought, “Really, you don't want anything else? Just these fifty bags of Strawbs? All right then...” What am I going to do?! I cannot find them anywhere else! (PS: I didn't buy fifty bags of Strawbs, mostly because they didn't have that many for sale.)
• On the phone with a friend. A cute guy, also on the phone, is walking diagonally towards me. I say, “Oh my God, there's a really cute guy in all black coming towards me.” Guy keeps walking, but now angles himself so he's walking towards me. First thing I think: “What's he wear—Oh. He's a priest.” Fail. Not that priests aren't allowed to be good-looking, but still, I feel weird. Well, at least he didn't hear me talking about how cute he was.
• Playing “Shag, Marry, Stab” with my friend, except all the men are 18^th and 19^th century English authors. After a while of playing, my friend says, “I'm using these questions to understand your taste in men for a potential husband.” Well, at this rate it appears I really like men who are English, writers, and dead.

Awesome

• Going to the pub to watch soccer games with my friend, Rob. And eating a magnificent Sunday roast while watching said soccer games. Pure happiness.
• The Game of Thrones “Main Titles” song. So epic I had to buy it off iTunes. Watch the awesome steampunk-esque opening sequence HERE.
• College Swaps. Caius people came to us on Monday. The night involved playing Disney songs on the piano, tango-ing with another girl, lots of games of pool, lots of glasses of port, amazing crème brulee, and good-looking French men.
• “Date Nights” with my English girls: pizza with chicken and peppers, then a trip to the Corpus Playroom to see The Collector. (Also, the guy-behind-me's running commentary through the play was pretty great. “Kiss him. Just kiss him. Good, good. That was a smart move.”)
• Sitting at my desk, window open, listening to the pouring rain outside. Being inside and warm with a cool breeze coming in. Drinking anise and mint tea. Reading Shelley's beautiful and heartbreaking elegy to Keats.
• My supervisor opening our supervision with this: “Okay. Keats and Shelley are in a fist-fight. Who's going to win?” Needless to say, we had quite a long debate on that. I don't think we ever came to a decision. Keats was scrappy and small, but he was super sickly. On the other hand, Shelley was fitter, but older, and probably adored Keats too much to want to seriously hurt him. I think Keats came out the winner, if his TB didn't do him in mid-fight.
• My Andrew Scott/Jim Moriarty obsession right now. I'm not ashamed of it; I'm reveling in it. Enjoy the picture below (I know I did). You're welcome.

If you aren't following my blog (like officially...see my adorable follower list on the side there), I'd love for you to. It's super easy. And either way, you should leave a comment below. What song do you sing into the bathroom mirror? Moriarty: sexy or scary or both? And the final question: Keats, Shelley, and Byron. You have to shag one, marry one, and stab one. Which do you choose?

Party Like It's 1919

Last weekend our college's SBR threw an amazing 20s party, accurately named, “The Beautiful and the Damned.” The night started with flutes of champagne and mingling in the SBR where our television room had been transformed in “Capone's Hideaway” and posters declaring “The End of Prohibition!” were stuck to the walls. The men actually put in an effort with bow ties and fedoras. The ladies, of course, went all out with short dresses, headbands, feathers, and long jewelry. Hall followed with squash soup, roast chicken, and more delicious wine. The after-party, however, was what everyone was waiting for. Gin and tonics and gin and elderflowers (much better, in my opinion) abounded. Benny Goodman's “Sing, Sing, Sing” blasted from the radio and trumpets wailed. I taught myself the Charleston and showed off my moves (and I only kicked my shoe off across the room once!). I then tried to teach everyone else the Charleston, but that didn't go so well. Instead we did our best Duchess from The Aristocats impressions. Later my friend and I channeled our inner Catherine Zeta-Jones when we put on “And All That Jazz” from the Chicago soundtrack. The men were bewildered at what we were listening to (“What is this?” “It's from a musical!” “A what?!”), but it made for some awesome impromptu karaoke. The night ended with one last, rather tipsy, Charleston rendition. Overall, a success. To quote my friend, “We partied like it was 1919.”