Ho freakin' ho.

And so Christmas is over and done with for another year, thank unnamed deity. I know, I know - you can call me a Grinch, but I can’t help it. I don’t really enjoy Christmas anymore, and I don’t even know why. It might just be that I hate this time of year in general; if I had anything to say, we’d be skipping November through February and head straight from autumn to spring. I used to love winter, I really did. I loved the dark and the cold and even the rain, having a reason to stay in and cosy it up on the sofa with candles lit. Now it all just depresses me, and not even the decorations and pretty lights all over town make it all right. I can’t wait until the days are longer again. I want spring. Warmth, green leaves, and light in the mornings when I wake up. I want to go for a run in the afternoon and feel the sun on my face. April, please get here soon.

This Christmas has been particularly miserable since I’ve been ill since the weekend with an awful cold. We celebrated on the 23rd with my uncle, aunt and cousins, and I was sick as a dog with a runny nose, stuffed head and swollen eyes. We celebrated Christmas Eve yesterday at my grandparents’, and at 7 o’clock I was bad enough that I had to go lie down and ended up sleeping for more than three hours. Today I’ve been coughing so hard all day I think I’m going to crack a rib at some point, or at least pass out from a lack of air. Oh, yes, awesome Christmas.

On a positive note, I found out on Monday that I passed all of my exams and now only have the play in January left. Yay! And not only did I pass all the exams, but I got distinctions for all of them, too! Am I allowed to say that I rock?

Bring on spring.

3-2 against Wigan on Saturday. But damn it, why must they make me suffer and try to give me a heart attack with these late comebacks? Wigan was supposed to be that game I could watch easily and enjoy, maybe won by 3-0. It wasn’t supposed to be a game where Liverpool was down 1-2 but eventually managed to turn the whole thing around in the last ten minutes while I had to cover my eyes. They seriously need to take control of the match earlier.

Also, I wish Keane would start showing why he’s on the team.

Oooh.

Canal+ is showing Liverpool-Wigan despite it not being in the tableau! What a nice surprise!

Come on, you Reds. Don’t make me suffer the way you did against Manchester City. Show me you can win without Nando, like you did against United.

No keg! (Too late!)

Last night was the 25th x 4 birthday party in Ystad, and man, did we have a good time.

Looking back at the evening, I realised a few things. One: when I have been drinking it is apparently very difficult for me to be in a picture without making a silly face, which usually means opening my mouth wide enough that you’d think I was trying to break some kind of record. Two: my top was really low-cut. *hides* There was some serious boobage going on at one point. Three: I cannot (and will not!) be held responsible for my so called dancing when the band are playing AC/DC, and especially not Back In Black. And four: Bon Jovi really DOES rock on occasion. *makes horns*

It was a really great night. Food was yummy, band were awesome, and company equally so.

Oh, and on a completely different note, Dawn? Thanks a lot for reminding me about the Slapsong. It’s been on my head nonstop for the past few days, and I can’t just go around singing "You just got slaaaapped!" in public. It’s getting as bad as it was with Where There’s a Whip, There’s a Way.

…

I got a tip last night to watch ‘Forgetting Sarah Marshall’. I just did, and I have only one thing to say: full frontal nudity for the win! God, I love Jason Segel.

Newsflash

In the last couple of weeks, I have rediscovered how much work it is having a puppy around. Morris is absolutely adorable, very cuddly and likes to crawl into my lap and fall asleep there, and very funny. He is also the most stubborn little thing you could ever imagine, snaps and yaps at us incessantly every night, tries to eat every damn thing that comes into his field of vision when outside and has very, very sharp teeth, which makes digging stuff out from his mouth ever so slightly unpleasant.

I can't wait for him to stop being a puppy and become a real dog.

Stuff.

Home again from a four-day-weekend in London, which was wonderful. Saw Monty Python’s Spamalot (which, if you didn't know, is sort of a musical version of 'The Holy Grail'), where I had a moment of utter (though quiet) squee when Alan Dale came on stage. I mean, come on! Bradford Meade! Caleb Nichol! Then my squee subsided somewhat, because he wasn’t really that good, but still. And the show was fantastic - I laughed so much my cheeks hurt. The guy playing Patsy was my favourite - he looked eerily like Terry Gilliam, while at the same time being oddly cute. And if there is one thing Terry Gilliam is not, it’s ‘cute’.

Oh, and I am now also the proud owner of a white, fluffy killer rabbit with pointy teeth. This random American dude sat next to me bought one during the interval, and after paying he said, "This one is for you," and gave it to me. I have no idea why, but… Killer rabbit! Yay! It’s awesome, and called Steve. I don't know why, but it fits him.

On a completely different note, only three weeks until the new puppy arrives! I can’t wait. Of course, once it’s here and the initial ‘homigod so CUTE’ has worn off, it’s going to be a tiring summer of getting bitten every time you stick your hand down, and having to run out for a walk in the middle of an important football game. I can just imagine it. Sweden against France, 1-1 two minutes into overtime, and puppy begins looking anxious. And it will inevitably be my turn to go.

I’ve decided that I’m going to work on my Scouse this summer. I want that accent, damn it. I know the basic differences, like /ɜ:/ becoming /e:/, and /ɐ/ becoming /ʊ/ (I love saying /we:d/ and /brʊðə/), but clearly there is so much more and I want to learn it.

Oh, and /k/ becomes /x/, like in the Scotish 'loch'. So, 'look' would be pronounced as /lʊx/. How awesome is that?

Sports blather

So, Liverpool won against Manchester City today. Yay! And Torres was the one who scored, which made me extra happy. I’m so proud of El Niño. Take that, all those who didn’t think he’d make it in the UK.

And my boys seem to have recovered somewhat after losing the Champions League semi-final to Chelsea. Man, that sucked. And the worst part was how happy both my parents were with the result; they’re both Chelsea supporters. The living room was so full of glee (and resentment, on my behalf), you wouldn’t believe.

I actually really love football. It amazes me, but I do. It’s fun to watch, and exciting. True, it's limited to English football and cups, but still.

What handball news there is isn't very exciting. Hammarby won the final against Sävehof, which wasn't completely unexpected considering how superior they've been this season, but it was still a disappointment.
And, here's to hoping that next season, my Lugi will get their act together and reach the standard I know they're really at. Because this season was bloody embarrassing.

The efforts of a high school student

I just went back and looked at some of the English 'essays' I wrote in high school, which was, what, five years ago? And Jesus H. Christ, people. That was embarassing. But also oddly amusing.

I had actually written the phrase 'To summon up' at the end of one of them. I reacted 'on' things. I posed questions that I began to answer with the word 'Yep'. I wrote 'teared apart'. I even described a certain event in a novel as 'very not interesting'. 

*headdesk*

Note to self: do not read your junior high stuff if you find that you still have any of it left.

Man, reading the 'conclusion' to my analysis (and I'm using the word 'analysis' in the loosest sense possible, here) of Grisham's The Rainmaker is cracking my shit up.

What worries me slightly, though, is the idea of looking back on this blog in a few years and having a similar reaction.

In which I get my geek on

I don't know how I feel about this new idea to call the plosives /b/, /d/ and /g/ (well, apparently it goes for all voiced sounds) 'lenis' instead of 'voiced'. I'm very averse to change. /b/, /d/ and /g/ are voiced plosives, and that's that, just as /v/ is a voiced fricative. (And /ʒ/ is a voiced sibilant, but more on that later.)

It's almost as strange as suddenly having to think of /k/ and /g/ as velar sounds. "What do you mean, velar? They're palatal! Stupid book," was my intital reaction. Then I started saying 'car' and 'gone' to myself, and fine, maybe they are more velar than palatal in English.

I don't like this book much. They don't even mention sibilant consonants, I don't think. I can't find the term anywhere, anyway. And that's just rude to the poor sibilants. They shouldn't have to put up with just being lumped in with the all the other fricatives. They've deserved their subcategory.

The straw that breaks my back, however? The mandible isn't mentioned, either. *weeps* How can you write a book on phonetics and not take the opportunity to use an awesome word like 'mandible'?

Regardless of this, though, it really is a lot of fun reading about phonetics and phonology again. Brings back memories of revising madly for Pär's exams, hundreds of questions in front of you, trying to remember what the perturbation theory was about, to be able to tell the thyroid cartilage from the cricoid cartilage, and remember what the subglottic pressure is.

(7 cm water, in case you were wondering.)

When we first started with phonetics during that first term I never thought I'd say this, but I've missed it. A lot of it is different from the stuff we did then - clearly, since the sounds differ - but it's great getting to delve into it again.

Hear the cry of the righteous

LJ has rather a lot of those amusing blog thingies going around, and the latest one is to find out what your battle cry would be when going to war. Apparently, mine would be, "I'm seriously going to smack you until you pee fire!!!"

You know, I kind of like it. I could definitely see myself running towards an army, a crowbar in my hand - wait, did I not mention that my designated weapon was a crowbar? Well, it was. Where was I? Oh yes - crowbar in hand, crying about making people pee fire.

What? Can't you?

I wish I could audition for 'Idol' right now.

Man, I sound like a bullfrog with a really bad strep-throat. How very attractive.

Wrong.

I realised last night that I'd forgotten to register for our vocabulary exam on Saturday and promptly panicked. Not helped by the fact that I seem to have the mother of all colds, either, which is killing my brain. And then I discovered that if I don't take the exam on Saturday, the next opportunity to take it is in August. Cue more panicking.

But, I got up this morning and made a couple of phone calls, and managed to register over the phone. Cue relief.

And then, cue irony. I'm completely exhausted, sneezing and coughing all over the place and my eyes keep tearing up, and I have no energy to study for the bloody exam. And yet for some reason I panicked over the possibility of not taking the exam on Saturday and made it so that I will.

I'm dumb.

But not so dumb that I didn't pass with distinction both my grammar and my translation exams. Score!

In other news, Liverpool lost their first semifinal against Chelsea in Champions' League by own goal when there were two seconds left. Well, not 'lost' as such, it ended 1-1, but since Chelsea 'scored' on away ground, their goal is worth more and now Liverpool have to score at the Bridge to make up for it. 

Damn it. Own goal. Two seconds before the game ended.

Look! I post!

This is what I looked like for the sitting Friday night. And a couple of people actually did get who I was meant to be right away, so yay!


Awesome night.

The good and the sucky

I have been giggling at this video all afternoon. They're just. So. Cute! Not that I'd want a couple of my own, but still. Highly amusing.

The way Charlie laughs at his brother's pain... That is pure beauty that is.

In other news, at Frida's suggestion I have taken to naming my ear problem - from now on, it shall be called Vera.

Did I mention I hate Vera? Fucking bitch.

Those are strings, Pinocchio

My grandmother is one hopeless case, bless her. You can't go see her and my grandpa without there being strings attached.

Frida and I are going there tomorrow, and gran called just now to let me know that we'll be having lunch there. Not 'asked me if we would like to have lunch', mind you, but let me know that we will. There's no arguing with her when it comes to lunch. And I was so sure eleven in the morning would be early enough that we could get away with just having coffee or something... Apparently not. "Well, you have to eat anyway," she said when I tried to say that coffee and biscuits or something would be just fine. "You can't go all day without food, and we have to eat dinner, so you two might as well eat with us." She didn't finish with 'And that's that', but I could still hear it.

Sorry, Frida. I tried my best, really. I thought we were in the clear.

Holy crap.

So, I kinda did not want to have seen this... But I did, and now you will, too. Floey gave us the address to this really cool morphing website, and I was dumb enough to be curious about what I'd look like as a guy.

I found out.

Holy crap. The worst bit? That is probably what I'd look like if I were a guy. It's a guy, but it's still me.




(And this was the picture I morphed. Yes, I look haggard. I'm tired.)

The memory, it betrays

I think I want a new layout. Not sure how I'd want it to look, though. I kind of like the Rounders template, but it's still not quite right - I don't want the subheading right underneath the blog title, like most of the templates have. That's pretty much the only thing I still like about this one.

Meh. I wish I was good enough with html and CSS to actually create something myself instead of having to rely on existing templates.

Why can't I remember what 'perfunctory' means? Bloody word won't stick in my mind (or, won't cross from my short-term memory bank to my long-term one, as my lecturer would put it). Same with 'incensed', 'effervescent' and several others, and I need to know them for tomorrow. And stupid 'loom' doesn't have a decent translation for what it means in my mind. It drives me mental.

I'm way more stressed about this exam than I expected to or should be.

Tea, umbrellas and wellies

I'm not sure why I've let my blog slide. I guess maybe because nothing much is happening, while at the same time somehow I've been incredibly busy. I shall make an effort to write at least once a week from now on.

English is fun. A lot of fun even, though just as much work. Up until now, the grammar course has been pretty much all repetition for me, seeing as how I've done both Swedish and linguistics at the university, but now that we're entering the lovely world of clauses and subclauses, I think I'm going to have to start paying some proper attention, as well.

Literature begins on Thursday, with a vocab exam on Big Mouth & Ugly Girl. Written Proficiency began yesterday, and if there's one course I'm not going to enjoy, it'll be that one. And yes, it's probably because it's the one I'm the least good at. I'm one of those people, apparently. *facepalm* But seriously... Academic writing. I'm having a hard enough time writing my thesis in Swedish - I don't even want to think about doing it in English as well!

You know what the worst part is? The brainstorming. When we get to the exam, where we're meant to write an essay on a given topic (and my worrying about that bit is a whole other post), they want to see our brainstorming. They want to see our so-called 'clustering'. And I suck at that, I always did. It just doesn't work that way for me. I've never been able to get my unsorted, incoherent thoughts down on paper. And tell me something - how on Earth do you write an essay with an introduction, a body and a conclusion, using less than 300 words?

No, not looking forward to this one at all. I might even dislike it more than I've been prepared to dislike Culture & History, the course I've expected to be my Achilles heel.

It's strange being in a course with a hundred students. I'm used to being no more than twenty-five. It's all so... anonymous, and it's hard to make contact with people. I miss my friendly linguistics group - I'm still in the same building where I used to be, but without my buddies. It feels odd.

Cuss like a mutha'...

Swearing in English is awesome. TRUFAX.