My teeth went all red and anything I spilt on my hands is still there and I had to brush my teeth for 10 minutes straight until it finally went away but at least now I know how to make the best fake blood in the world.

Oh, god. Aaaah, what the hell am I doing. You know that charlie shake? Charlieissocoollike's milkshake thing? This right here... Well... I was bored, okay? I went into the kitchen and I thought 'should I make some tea?' but then I decided 'nah, it's a bit warm for tea. I'll make a MILKSHAKE!' So, yeah. I didn't know what type of milkshake it should be and... I was bored, alright? Very, very bored. Boooooored. That's a good enough explanation. IT'S AN EXPERIMENT!
And, oh gosh. It looks disgusting. I had to miss out on a few things. Like the fish fingers. Since 1. I don't have any fish fingers, 2. I can't be buggered cooking them, 3. I can't use a blender because I don't have one and used this milkshake maker thing instead and 4. I couldn't find something to cook the fish fingers on anyway. And I couldn't use icecream either because we don't have any. And, yeah. A few other things.
I added food coloring for god knows what reason so now it's blood red and has little bits and bobs floating about inside. It was still hot from the tea even after I added milk, so it's in the fridge now. I want to wait for Mycroft (amber) to get home before I take it out.
I have no idea what I'm doing. Putting body parts in the fridge is one thing, but that milkshake is something else entirely. Oh, gosh... Uuuuuugh.
No. I'm definitely going to drink it. I don't care how high the likelihood of me throwing up is. I'm proving a point, see? No idea what that point is. I just checked it. Still warm... right... Okay...

I just changed that little profile doohickey over there. It now has 'full-time student of the world' in it instead of 'full-time student'. That's right, boyo. I've finished school. And I just called you boyo. Booooyooooo.

Here's a handy little distraction:

John made me get rid of the cricket. We went outside and he threw it out into the garden. Not as delicately as I would've liked. He then offered me the box back, but I turned around and stormed back up to the flat before he could say anything. John just walked in. He wanted to know if I'd like some tea. I didn't answer, so he shrugged and went into the kitchen. Ugh.

A cricket hopped into my room last night. I tried to catch him, but he hopped about the room in a psychotic manner: with the speed of a freaking bullet. So I found myself sitting on my bed, eyeing him off and trying to catch him every now and then but always epic failing. He scared me a little, I admit. It was irrational of me to fear him. It was just something about the way he jumped so FREAKING high and with such speed...

When I crouched down on the floor with a glass cup to catch him with: I spotted him near my half done Starry Night sketch. But of course I couldn't catch him. In fact, I saw him hop off The Trial and onto Perfume before he made his way under my bed. Shifty bugger. I didn't really want to leave him there. How could I sleep knowing that there's a psychotic cricket under my bed, waiting for me to be vulnerable enough for him to make a move?

I finally decided on searching under my bed until I finally found him. No matter what it took. I didn't need to search very long because I soon found him in my school shoe. Imagine! After all that time! I caught him and put him in a little container with some soggy bread. Of course I had to keep him. Something about him reminded me of Moriarty showing up at the swimming pool, saying 'I GAVE YOU MY NUMBER. I THOUGHT YOU'D CAAAAALL'. What? He is psychotic and has a pretty high voice and bounds about like he's had far too many red cordials. He's chirping away right now. I'd let him go, but there's something cute about him. I can grow attached to bugs, you know. He's not that different from my skull, actually. And no, John, I don't care. He's not loud and if you come into my bedroom tonight, intent on killing him as you so happily suggested upon doing: then I'll be waiting. You forget, John, that I am an insomniac. I can stay up for as long as I want without growing tired. Oh, look at him. Isn't he cute?

I brought the COMPLETE Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes AND the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes! All together in one pretty little book! Only $3.99!

ANOTHER ONE CONVERTED TO SHERLOCK!

Brilliant! :D

Life at the moment is, well...

Exams, tests, essays, projects, homework, nanowrimo, leaving school... all sorts of things are happening at once. And then there's the daunting vision of the future slowly creeping up on me. I don't know. Everything is just so confusing and it's passing by so fast and I wish it would slow down so that I can somehow understand it. I wish I could not care so much about all that is happening at the moment (particularly the exams), but I do. I only get to live once, yet I'm worrying about some stupid exam on pointless things such as linear graphs and trigonometry and geometry and blahblahblah. I'm worrying about next year and how it will turn out, yet it hasn't happened yet and even when it does: it shouldn't be as awful as I believe it will be. And I'm worrying about when I move out of home and get a job and become a woman. I'm scared of living alone and I'm scared of having a bad job and I'm scared of being tied down by a marriage to a man I don't love and of having children (I don't dislike them, I just don't like what having lauren is doing to mum and all of her free time) and of writing and of the fact that one day I might have to stop. I don't want to worry about anything ever again...

My solution? Coffs Harbour. And you're coming with me.

Joooooohn... Jooooooohn... Joooooooohn... JOHN!

Look! :D

I finally finished part one of my nanowrimo story.

Isn't it fantastic?

Isn't it brilliant?

Isn't it amazing?

...What about my nicotine patches? Stupid John, they don't have anything to do with this! This is brilliant! ...Don't you think so?

Come ooooon. Of course it is! It only means that I'm going to have to keep writing in December and possibly January. But that hardly matters, does it? I do nothing else with my time apart from lie around and stare at the wall and carry out experiments that I can see are starting to get on your nerves...

Besides! 50,000 words is about what The Great Gatsby is. Fantastic novel, but it is a little short, isn't it? Come on, admit it! It is! So! My point isssss that this story needs a hell of a lot more than just 100 pages, right? RIGHT! The first part may be done: but it's missing a bucket load of crap. When a week is meant to pass, only a day passes. And all sorts of other silly things, you see?

Anyway. Part one finished and it rounds up to 33,770 words, right? So that means the other ones are going to be around that much, right? You still with me, John? Good. I don't want to have to twirl you around again. That was silly. It aids concentration, of course, but you informed me after the twirling in question that it was silly. So, therefore, it is silly... Oh, to hell with it.

MUCH BETTER! How are you feeling John? ...John? JOOOOOHN! Ah, there you are. AS I WAS SAYING: there are four parts. Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. Summer for happiness, Autumn for change, Winter for melancholy and Spring for new beginnings. Spring is short, though. Very short. I'll coin it up to about, say, 5,000 words?

So. The first three parts (I'm deducing) will round up to about 35,000 words once I've written and edited them. Plus the 5,000 of the fourth part. That gives you about 110,000. That's depending on how it all turns out. They could end up longer or shorter. Who knows. I know you certainly don't. I mean, look at you. Look at that vacant expression. You haven't the foggiest idea of what is going on.

But don't worry, my dear Watson! I know what's going on! *taps forehead* Massive intellect, you see? But, anyway, 110,000 is over 200 pages, I guess. Is that alright?... Well, no, not really. Yes, yes, I'm done rambling now. You may go to bed... But if you plan on replacing my skull, then you're going to have to get used to this sort of thing... and stop giving me that look. I mean, really, John: it's only 1am. Be happy I didn't wake you up at 4am. Even I know that is a hour that should not exist... wait, what are you doing? Well, of course you're going to bed, but you're forgetting something! ...Goodnight, John *makes heart shape with fingers*

I WANT IT, I WANT IT, I WANT IT, I WANT IT, I WANT IT!

Dad's leaving at 6 for a christmas party in the city. He won't be home until 10. RAVE PARTY! EVERYONES INVITED!

Except you, Moriarty.

The two main characters in my story are having a, umm, you know... sex scene. And I'm having lots of trouble with it. The first one of the story faded to black when he dragged her over to the bed (yeah, he's a twat) but this one can't do that. And fuuuuuuu. I wish it could. I don't want to write this. But I have to write it so that the contrast between her first experience and this experience is obvious. It has to be more innocent and reluctant and sweet. It's his first time, but it isn't her's... God, what am I DOING?

Haha, dad just came over and looked at the screen. I was on the nanowrimo forums looking for some help with writing this and, well...:

Him: What are you...

Me: Problem?

Him: I'm not even gonna ask *leaves*

I hope he's bringing back food. And tea. And something entertaining. I'm bored.

Speaking of which, here's Dorian Gray being Dorian Gray (I couldn't find much. *Tear*)

Guess what I'm wearing?

A bowtie.

...Well, it's a bit of a herp bowtie. Like Dorian Gray's first bowtie that he wore long before he was DORIAN GRAY WHO, BY THE WAY, CAN DO WHATEVER THE BLOODY HELL HE WANTS.

It's part of the kangaroo costume I'm wearing tomorrow for the Wildlife Australia stall at Stud Park, so it's made to look like a furry bowtie. BUT IT'S A BOWTIE ALL THE SAME! Bowties are cool. And I'm wearing one. So I'm cool.

*adjusts bowtie* I'M GOING TO GO MAKE SOME TEA.

HOLY NERGASM

My awesome gang of shimejis. Sherlock is mad because John keeps going off with Moriarty (when Moriarty isn't prancing about my desktop with a creepy smile on his face). Mycroft just lazes about doing nothing, only occasionally opening his umbrella and cloning himself. Lestrade just wanders about, sometimes wandering over to Sherlock when he gets bored. The Doctor just... climbs a lot... and looks out of place. Poor Doctor. Don't worry, I'll find you a companion shimeji one day.

I had a fantastic conversation via text last night that filled me with fangirl joy. No one I know watched Sherlock without saying 'it was okay' or 'it was boring as hell and I hated it', so you can imagine my excitement when Kotryna watched it and loved it.
Anyway, I was lying in bed last night, wondering whether going on my laptop would wake up dad with the sound of my fingers pounding against the keys at top speed, when all of a sudden - I hear the TARDIS. After sitting up in bed looking around my room, I realized that the sound was coming from my bag and reached over and took out my phone to find that I'd received a text from some unknown number. Strange...
It said: Ooh, I must have passed out last night.
It wasn't until I'd texted them back with: '...*intense gaze*' that I realized that it might in fact be Kotryna. Who else could it be texting me at such an hour with a sort-of line from Sherlock? The rest of the conversation is as follows:

Kotryna: Lol, jk. It's Watson.
Me: Yes, I noticed. SH
Kotryna: When is it ever that you don't notice... JW
Me: Never, Watson. I see what you stupid people don't. SH
Me: But don't worry, Watson, I still love you SH
Kotryna: Of course. JW <3
Me: Ugh, I'M BORED! GIVE ME PUZZLES! ...AND GO TO BED, IT'S WAY PAST YOUR BEDTIME SH
Kotryna: Sherlock! I am a grown person, I know when I should go to bed. And if you are so bored you should try cleaning up a bit. JW
Me: And when will that be? Two in the morning? Let Mrs. Hudson clean. I'm busy. SH
Kotryna: Quite right. Even though she isn't our housekeeper. Also, it'd be safer if you reply to my other number. JW
Me: Very good, Watson. Very clever. And sneaky. Now, pass me a pen. There's one of the table, by my head. And why don't you pop down to the shop along the way. I'm out of nicotine. SH
Kotryna: Why don't you give us all a break from the nicotine and have some coffee? JW
Me: Coffee doesn't help me think. But nicotine, on the other hand, DOES. SH
Kotryna: Right, okay. Anything else you might need? I am not going to the shop twice. JW
Me: Curry. Oh, and I think I broke the television. SH
Me: Definitely broke the television. Bring home curry and a new television. SH
Kotryna: I'll bring home curry and a new television when it's not 1am and the shops are open. What would you do without me... Goodnight. JW
Me: Ah, where would I be without my blogger, indeed. See you tomorrow. SH

Brilliant, no? So, yes. I read through our texts a few times before falling asleep and dreaming about all of my friends dressing up as my favorite characters and hiding in the lounge room so that when I came home one day: they jumped up and yelled SURPRISE then spent the entire party in character, looking quite bemused when I called them by their real names. Kotryna was dressed up as John Watson, wearing an entire bloody sheep. After the shock had worn off, she gave me a Sherlock Holmes costume to change into.
My memory is vague; but I'm sure there were two Doctors (ten and eleven), Amy Pond, a Dalek, Grenouille, Meursault, Trip Fontaine, Dorian Gray, Josef K, the Phantom, the Mad Hatter, Alice Liddell, Arthur Dent, Ford, Marvin, Trillian, Zaphod, Jareth, Beetlejuice, Valentine from MirrorMask, Arthur Pendragon, Merlin... heaps and heaps of people, okay? It was wonderful... I'd love my friends forever if they were to do this for me. But 1. don't have enough friends to dress up as all the characters for there were loads more than listed here and 2. they wouldn't do that for me.

One of my characters just told the main character to 'kiss me arse'.

What was SUPPOSED to happen was the main character going to her bedroom and locking her door. But INSTEAD, they had a fight in which French was spoken and the initial 'kiss me arse' was said...

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHY NOTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THIS STORY IS WHAT WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJ8RiMudOiI
THIS.

BORED.

SH: Beautiful, isn't it?
JW: Thought you didn't care about things like that-
SH: Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it.

10,378 words!

Sherlock and the Doctor are hanging out together. Poor John is forever alone.

OH, HI AMBER!

WELL DON'T JUST STAND THERE, YOU IDIOT, ASK HER TO DANCE!

Mum thinks I should go to bed...

I miss this show already. I miss him... :(

*clears throat*

I've got double media tomorrow morning. That means computers. And computers mean writing my nanowrimo story.

The teacher won't mind. I don't even remember the last time we did any form of work in his class. Brilliant, ain't it?

GOD, ARTHUR, SINCE WHEN ARE YOU SO SHY? YOU CAN'T EVEN SAY A FEW WORDS WITHOUT STUTTERING! I DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAAAND!
...FINE THEN! YOU CAN BE ONE OF THOSE CHARACTERS THAT DEVELOPS OVER TIME AND IS A DIFFERENT PERSON AT THE END OF THE NOVEL.
Ugh, stupid bloody characters...

I hurt my ankle :(

I should like to call this my favorite part, but I cannot. I could never have a favorite part, for then another scene that makes me smile or cry or laugh would show itself and leave me pondering a new favorite. I love the entire film. Every second of it. I've no part that I favor above all others, for there is not a single second of this film that I do not enjoy. Bingley is about to get his Miss Jane Bennet. Finally :)

I love this part! Mr. Darcy has followed Amanda into modern London.

Amanda: Darcy... You followed me?

Darcy: Are my wits disordered by opium? What is this dreadful place?

Amanda: This is London. My London.

Darcy: I will tell you this, Miss Price... and it is true. The assembly rooms at Meryton. I danced with you, not in order to spare my friend, but because I wanted to dance with you. Our entire acquaintance has been formed by my refusal to acknowledge this, for I have been blinded by pride. Charles, Georgiana, Wickham... You. I was calamitously mistaken in my judgment of you all. A fellow less pigheaded would have realized from the start that what I felt for you was... what I felt for you was... love. I love you. I have followed you to this infernal place because I would follow you anywhere. I would harrow hell to be with you.

Amanda: What about Caroline?

Darcy: I cannot marry Caroline Bingley.

Amanda: Do not tell me it is because she's not a maid.

Darcy: Of course she is a maid. I cannot marry her because I do not love her. I love you.