don't get slain by civvies
Your Heart Is Purple
For you, love is about establishing and developing a deep connection.
If it's true love, it brings you more wisdom and inner strength.
Your flirting style: Sincere
Your lucky first date: An afternoon at a tea house
Your dream lover: Is both thoughtful and expressive
What you bring to relationships: Understanding
What Color Heart Do You Have?
Wow, how true for being so insanely general!
Had a hot time last night at The Liquid Room (9c Victoria Street) where we spotted folks we recognized from Tatler magazine and drank Pilsner Urquell. I met Katharine, the real-estate-baroness-in-the-making, and made very drunk chitchat about off-plan developments (go Media Company for giving me a crash-course in real estate!). We then headed off as queue missionaries to fetch people from the two-hour Why Not? queue, and whisked them off to Opal Lounge (51 George Street). Insanely hot - fun crowd, great DJ (even got to bhangra it out to Panjabi MC!). I got *very drunk* and stumbed home with Darling Christine, passed out on my bed. Woke up late today, drank tea and saw my flatmates off to their Glasgow holiday (the US football team's playing up there, and I'm hoping my flatmates aren't slain by civvies). Did some yoga, made some calls, enjoyed myself immensely.
I am endlessly glad that all my essays are in - even if the lit essay is piss-poor - but my new freakout centers around the two presentations due next week. Who really wants to get up in front of the class and talk to them about the influence of the Scottish Green Party in the devolved parliament, after all? The Lit presentation is shaping up pretty well, though - I'm making a series of spoken-word poems about my experience of this wild and bizarre country, and I'm finding it a marvelous way for me to get a lot of closure on things, get a handle on my process and walk away with a good snapshot of myself in this weird environment. Don't worry, readers - once it's finished and typed it'll be up here, hidden conveniently under an LJ cut. Keep the eyes peeled!
May I just throw in that chicken tikka marsala is what chickens were made to become? Sorry, vegetarians, it's true.
I'm currently at Honey Pot (46 George IV Bridge) and I only have ten minutes of free internet left, so I need to get a little research done. I send my love and intense missing of all of you across the ether, please tell me if you recieve it. Very fondly - Nick
For you, love is about establishing and developing a deep connection.
If it's true love, it brings you more wisdom and inner strength.
Your flirting style: Sincere
Your lucky first date: An afternoon at a tea house
Your dream lover: Is both thoughtful and expressive
What you bring to relationships: Understanding
What Color Heart Do You Have?
Wow, how true for being so insanely general!
Had a hot time last night at The Liquid Room (9c Victoria Street) where we spotted folks we recognized from Tatler magazine and drank Pilsner Urquell. I met Katharine, the real-estate-baroness-in-the-making, and made very drunk chitchat about off-plan developments (go Media Company for giving me a crash-course in real estate!). We then headed off as queue missionaries to fetch people from the two-hour Why Not? queue, and whisked them off to Opal Lounge (51 George Street). Insanely hot - fun crowd, great DJ (even got to bhangra it out to Panjabi MC!). I got *very drunk* and stumbed home with Darling Christine, passed out on my bed. Woke up late today, drank tea and saw my flatmates off to their Glasgow holiday (the US football team's playing up there, and I'm hoping my flatmates aren't slain by civvies). Did some yoga, made some calls, enjoyed myself immensely.
I am endlessly glad that all my essays are in - even if the lit essay is piss-poor - but my new freakout centers around the two presentations due next week. Who really wants to get up in front of the class and talk to them about the influence of the Scottish Green Party in the devolved parliament, after all? The Lit presentation is shaping up pretty well, though - I'm making a series of spoken-word poems about my experience of this wild and bizarre country, and I'm finding it a marvelous way for me to get a lot of closure on things, get a handle on my process and walk away with a good snapshot of myself in this weird environment. Don't worry, readers - once it's finished and typed it'll be up here, hidden conveniently under an LJ cut. Keep the eyes peeled!
May I just throw in that chicken tikka marsala is what chickens were made to become? Sorry, vegetarians, it's true.
I'm currently at Honey Pot (46 George IV Bridge) and I only have ten minutes of free internet left, so I need to get a little research done. I send my love and intense missing of all of you across the ether, please tell me if you recieve it. Very fondly - Nick