Protected: Forget my earlier fears… Tuesday, Apr 29 2008

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Getting lectured at by a iGoogle application Sunday, Apr 27 2008

I mentioned earlier that I have this really nice Yoda-speak translator application on my iGoogle frontpage. As I have an exam tomorrow, I was playing around with it just now, and typed in “George Clooney is the sexiest man on Earth.” You know what it gave me??

“More manners then you, chewbacca has. Yeesssssss.”

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An e-mail that made me scream and jump Thursday, Apr 24 2008

I arrived home tired and bored and disappointed and checked my mail. Still nothing from either one of the NHL people, BF’s boss or The Hot Dream Guy. I decided to check some blogs, and the BCF, and left the tab with my email open. After a while I checked the email tab.

1 new mail.

I got all excited and tingly when I hit the ‘refresh’. It was the recruiting mailing list newsletter. How utterly disappointed.

After some more bloghopping and general Internet ennui I checked the email one last time, planning to go and get ice cream and watch Babylon 5.

1 new mail.

Thinking “party adverts? library’s please return -notices? what’s going to disappoint me this time?” I hit ‘refresh’.

“Subject: thesis.” You know how sometimes your brain can go through a million things in the time it takes you to move your eyes from ’subject’ to the sender, or the message? I though it was a reply from a school friend of mine. Or maybe my prof found that “economics of networks for dummies” I was asking for as the networks make zero sense to me and reading about them makes me feel stupid and small. Then I saw the sender and the message:

“Hi [ii],

I got your mail through [Miss D], I’d be happy to help… [general info on how and when to reach him]

[The Hot Dream Guy]“

*insert ii jumping up and down and screaming*

After some (very unladylike) jumping and screaming I reach for my phone and call My Friend With Huge Boobs. “He replied! [The Hot Dream Guy] replied! *screaming*” She’s happy for me, but dismisses me in order to continue vacuuming (seriously, that womans priorities!) She tells me to call BF. Which was already next on my list.

“[TheHotDreamGuy]repliedjustnowandnowyoudon’thavetokickyourboss’ass!!” I exclaim as soon as he picks up.

BF *as if nothing was unusual*: Hi honey! How are you?

Me: [TheHotDreamGuy]repliedjustnowandnowyoudon’thavetokickyourboss’ass!

BF: ooookay… did you OD on coffee again?

Me *taking a deep breath*: I said, [The Hot Dream Guy] replied just now and now you don’t have to kick your boss’ ass! That’s brilliant, isn’t it?!

BF: Sorry, what’s brilliant? I think I lost hearing from my other ear.

Me: [BF]!!

BF *laughs*: It’s great, honey, really, truly great! I’m happy for you.

Me *still on hyperdrive*: I’m happy for me too!

BF: Okay, listen, I have to go. We have [a thing] in a minute and the other guys think I’m talking to some looney.

Me: Is [our mutual friend Perfect Morning-After Voice] there?

BF: yes.

Me: Oooh, tell him I said hi.

BF *to the side*: ii says hi.

*something on the background*

Me: What was that?

BF: [Perfect Morning-After Voice] said ‘that explains the weird call’.

Me *exclaiming*: [The Hot Dream Guy] replied and is happy to help me!

BF: right. okay. bye midget.

 

Luckily for me not only is BF used to these calls, but he has made a fair share of them himself. Last year I had half the team singing “Born in the USA” to me over the phone before the the USA game. Only they didn’t know the song, apart from the “born… in the U S A!” part, so it was basically two minutes of that. I was visiting Old Dragon at the time.

I still cannot believe The Hot Dream Guy was so enthusiastic to help me! *grin*

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Completely thesis-free post Wednesday, Apr 23 2008

I promise.

So, in order to look presentable tomorrow I’m not doing my nails and writing a typical nail polishing post. “What is a nail polishing post?” I hear you ask. Well, mon petites, a nail polishing post is a post you write while you wait for the layers of nail polish to dry. You would be surprised what one can write during three tracks on CD. (three for the first layers, five for the last one, everybody knows that!)

Let’s see… I bought a new dictionary yesterday. Unfortunately they didn’t have Le Petit Robert de poche, so I had to get the pocket version of Larousse. It’s a perfectly respectable dictionary! And I still have the big Le Petit Robert. Okay, that just sounded so weird.

I am dying to taste the new flavor of B&J I found, Bohemian Raspberry. First off, I think that name is just hilarious! Second, I like raspberries. And I sure like B&J!

I can’t for the life of me decide what to wear for the school seminar-y thingy tomorrow. I need to look smart and credible and like ‘I know what I’m doing and it’ll blow your mind away once I’m done’, while naturally looking pretty (not sexy) and having that distinct “ii”-factor that people have grown to expect from me. And while I’m an excellent dresser-upper (erm..?), even I have to admit that that is a long order for one outfit. I think I’ll just have to go with… I’m thinking sky-high stilettos but with a bit of a good-girl thrown in for good measure, like… mochasins, only with crazy heels? A pencil skirt in cream… what on top? And what do I do with my hair? Troubled, I am, indeed.

Ooh, that reminded me! I’m using the iGoogle front page for my internet, and as I was playing around with it I found this application that turns random sentences into Yoda-speak! How cool is that?! Which reminded me of the funny game of M*A*S*H, which I love. Okay, I love it, because it promised I’d end up living in a beautiful apartment in Paris with George Clooney. No kids, no wedding rings, just me and George and Paris. I do believe that’s what you find when you look up “paradise” in a dictionary. In fact, let me look at my brand new Larousse…

paradis nm 1. RELIG Lieu de séjour des âmes des justes après la mort. 2. FIG Lieu enchanteur. 3. Galerie supérieure d’un théâtre; poulailler. 4. Vivre avec George Clooney dans Paris sans enfants.

See? I told you!

It’s a good thing George is such a… how should I put this nicely… won’t spit in the glass, as the Finns say. Because I think I might be getting a drinking problem. For example, I’m hungry, but instead of getting food I opened up a bottle of chardonnay. I’m planning on getting rather wasted on Friday (school party, it’s a tradition that one should not be able to get out the taxi stumble-free). That should be a good evening, by the way! I’ll try to post about it later, as I’m sure loads of funs stories are made. Especially since My Friend With Huge Boobs is going to be there.

Byt the way, this was written over several more tracks than three. I’m not that fast.

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The NHL Guy from the Hot Deam Wednesday, Apr 23 2008

Okay, it would seem that I’m back to my old habits of reporting minuscule events in my blog. And that based on this blog I have absolutely no social life.

Do you remember when I told you about the phone calls I made to random NHL clubs? And that the Finnish guy’s clubs receptionist sounded like she had a hockey (goalie’s) stick sideways up her butt? And that finally I had to call BF’s club? And that they were helpful? And that the next night I had a naughty dream about the Finnish guy?

You do? What’s that? You took notes? Awww, you shouldn’t have!

Aaaaanyways. I dipped deep into my pool of HIFK spirit and kick-butt-attitude (also known as the List of Things To Do To Avoid Doing What One Has To Do) and decided to give The Hot Dream Guy (not that he is hot, the dream was) one more chance. This time I did not reach him, but an assistant to his boss, a very nice Miss D, and she promised to pass along a message. So I emailed her, and she promised to give it forward to The Hot Dream Guy straight away. And I’m totally playing the “I’m a Finn too” -card here (ha ha) so… here’s hoping!

On the other news, I tried to reach that one guy from BF’s club. He wasn’t at his phone. And we all know how much I love leaving messages to peoples voice mail! So I’m going to harass him again tomorrow. *insert Dr. Evil laugh here*

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Random Likes: Mini Kipper Tuesday, Apr 22 2008

Kipper, Miikka Kiprusoff, is a Finnish goalie playing for the Calgary Flames. A really good goalie. But this kid here? I bet he’ll be just as good someday, assuming of course that he won’t go all off in his head and end up in a locked room with padded walls and no corners. On the other hand, most hockey players should be in there…

 

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“Question not very interesting!” Monday, Apr 21 2008

Oh my… I’ve been laughing at an email by my prof for about an hour in here. I thought about a problem for a long time last night (a model of bargaining is usually about price, and I have basically trade in goods that I’m dealing with so it doesn’t really fit). So finally I came up with a possible application of the models, but I wasn’t sure if that was just the caffeine talking, so I dropped an email to my prof (the one who stole my original thesis topic!) and asked “a quick (an possibly very stupid) question”.

He replied and basically suggested the same solution I had come up with earlier (seems I’m smarter than I thought) and ended with “Question not very interesting!” I was like “what the h***?” but then realised (it’s more obvious in Finnish) that he’d just changed his thought mid-sentence, and gone from “question not at all stupid” to “question very interesting”. But yeah, my question is boring. *grin*

And yes, I’m truly in a state where that has amused me to no end for about an hour.

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So far this morning… Monday, Apr 21 2008

3 hours slept

5 fashion blogs checked

1 email sent

2 tabloid on-line magazines checked (for hockey news)

1 grocery store run completed

0.5 litres of Diet Coca-Cola drunk

half a bag of candy eaten

0 words written

0 numbers calculated

 

… I need to get to work.

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The phone calls Friday, Apr 18 2008

In front of me, pinned to the wall is a list of all the teams in the NHL. That’s thirty (30) teams, in groups of five. For the past two hours I’ve stared at that list and gone “who should I call next”

After several phone calls I’ve found something out. If you call an NHL club you have two possibilities. Either you get A Very Rude Receptionist who connects you to who-knows-who or you get A Very Nice Receptionist who connects you to someone who could help you but you end up getting a voicemail.

I. Hate. Voicemail.

The only people who I got off the ground with were BF’s club (though I used a different name, ’cause I want to do this on my own, not because of what my name is or who I sleep with) and even with them I had to send an email as the person I needed to talk to isn’t there until Tuesday.

Oh, and that one Finnish guy I was counting on? They didn’t even recognise his name when I said it. Apparently I cannot pronounce it “the American way”. If there’s anyone there willing to help (no drunken dials, especially with my name, GB!!) I’d be more than happy. I have to warn you though. The receptionist sounded like someone put a hockey stick up her butt sideways. She kept giving me the PR department.

I have to say, though. This evening has completely gotten me over my fear of calling People Across The Atlantic Ocean Who Hold My Future And My Dream Job In Their Hands. In fact, I found it rather addictive. It must be the whole attitude of not giving up until you’re bleeding and even then only because the ref throws you off the game I picked up while cheerleading for hockey.

More on the calls after I’ve had some sleep. But before hitting the pillow, an episode of Babylon 5 (DD got me the DVD box) and my favourite doubble-date. Ben and Jerry.

p.s. I called the NHL Guy again. With some more silly questions (he already answered one by email but told me to call him about the rest). And he was so nice! I’m seriously falling in love with him, he’s that nice!

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Talk about recycling! (Random Likes) Thursday, Apr 17 2008

I have to post here these videos I found on JP’s blog who in turn had found them through GB. So it’s truly a game of round and round and round it goes…

These here are hilarious! But you have to watch them in order!

 

edit: I just wanted to add, for clarity’s sake, that in case you didn’t already know it, I’d totally f*ck Matt Damon. That’s all.

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