Shocktober; Or 'Predictable Horror Binge' Post

October is quite possibly my favourite month. It's a month where it's acceptable to pile on jumpers, wear anything decorated with bats or ghosts and include pumpkin in all manner of cooking. It's also an excuse to binge on horror: much like drinking before noon on Christmas, it's something you can do any time of the year but only during October is it truly acceptable. Lock yourself in a room (or in our case, a caravan on the coast of the Solway Firth), dim the lights and power through as many as humanly possible before the wee caunles flicker oot and every tiny creak becomes irrationally terrifying.

Also much like Christmas, there are a few classics I like to revisit every year: Hocus Pocus is the obvious and long standing favourite. It's full of black humour, set in Salem, features a talking cat and was quite possibly my first introduction to the word 'virgin'. I don't think I'll ever tire of this one. I missed it last year; unfortunately I thought I had it on DVD when I didn't, and I just never got round to buying it. As a result I enjoyed it doubly as much this year and am now wondering if a purple cape would be a suitable wardrobe investment.

 Yes kids, there was a brief period in the mid 1990s when Sarah Jessica Parker was actually pretty slammin'.

Another obvious choice is of course Halloween: not the crass Rob Zombie remake (eew) but the 1978 original. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it. There's nothing freakier than a dude in a mask standing perfectly still, and then disappear. I do have a slight phobia of masks, which makes it possibly more frightening for me than it actually is (I don't think The Strangers is an especially terrifying film but the night I watched the trailer I slept in my living room). HOWEVER, it's a genre classic; a simple story, well executed (harhar) without an over-abundance of blood, guts and exposition. Perfect. This film may be the reason I think I'm going to be murdered all the time, but that's just... that's just the sign of a good horror right...?

I AM SO NOT COOL WITH THIS.

I do try and mix it up around this time of year and use Halloween as an excuse to buy up new films purely because "it's a horror I've never seen, tis the season etc". I bought Berberian Sound Studio in a mammoth Amazon binge and have been saving it until now as I thought it'd be something special. I thought I'd love it due to it being set almost exclusively in a sound studio (the.... one in the title), based around the experiences of a sound engineer working on a horror film (one of many dream jobs) and is a modern entry into the 'giallo' cannon. So far, so good yes?

Hrmm. I really wanted to like it, and I think I did... but I think a lot of my enjoyment was down to the little insider nods. I too have hacked at vegetables to recreate the sound of stabbing. I too have wanted to commit bodily harm upon a producer. However, this isn't exactly an accessible film even for those familiar with the processes. It's hard to tell where it's going, and it crawls along at some points before plummeting into 'batshit crazy' territory. It's certainly spooky and atmospheric, and before long the close confines of the studio become quite stiflingly claustrophobic. Possibly a little curio that could benefit from repeat viewing.

I watched Don't Be Afraid of the Dark after seeing that it had been produced by Guillermo del Toro and foolishly thought this meant it was good. It wasn't. Opening sequence and nasty third-act leg break aside, it was one of the most frustrating wastes of a film I'd watched in a while. This was a good couple of years ago and I still winced at del Toro's producing credits on Mama, which we finally got round to watching recently. It's purely only taken so long to get around to because we were waiting for the price to drop in Asda: yes, we could've ordered it online, but that would've felt like losing. Or cheating. Or something.

Anyway. It was with trepidation I approached this one, unwilling to let myself get excited by the producer tag. I figured that nothing with Jessica Chastain in it could be all bad, so I softened a little. Even more so when I realised the male lead was Nikol.. Nicol... Jaime Lannister. Kind of made it harder to take it seriously, but too many horrors are let down by casts of bland unknowns, so I took it as a positive.

I could mostly relate to Jessica Chastain because this is how small children appear to me all the time. Even when they're being 'cute'.

 

The film's set up was pretty creepy, although I feel it played its hand early in showing 'Mama' before the credits. The two little girl leads were creepy and played their parts well, Jessica Chastain was less convincing as a goth rocker (I don't know anyone in a band who has ever said "I'm in a rock band!"), and at first her unwilling surrogate mum act made her seem selfish and whiny. However, she soon warms to her new responsibilities somewhat, and accepts the supernatural elements of the film surprisingly easily. It really annoys me when characters spend entire films refusing to believe in the obviously ghostly goings on, so it was nice that both she and the girls' psychologist buy into them without a huge deal of convincing. The film also veers from the typical syrupy happy ending, and despite some storytelling issues, was more satisfying as a result.

Also thrown into this year's spooky mix was Beyond Re-Animator, which if anything is possibly more ridiculous than the original Re-Animator film. It suffers a lot from being released in 2003, which was a good year for... well, nothing really. The acting is 90% terrible; the saving grace being whenever Jeffrey Combs is onscreen. Besides him, most of my enjoyment of this was based on me and the boy's running commentary. Oh, and a (shadow) fight between a reincarnated rat and a severed penis, which is TOTALLY worth sticking around for.

Lastly (so far, anyway, there's probably more I've forgotten and more to come), came An American Werewolf in London. I remember seeing the infamous transformation scene when I was far too young to have any business watching it. I'm fairly sure Thriller had something to do with it; I loved that video before I realised it was by the same White Michael Jackson I was so terrified of as a child. In any case, it still stands as one of the best uses of horror make up and effects I've seen, as does the decomposing state of David the Werewolf's travelling buddy, Jack.

Paper cuts are always so much worse than you think they're gonna be.

 

This is yet another film I've seen countless times but still creeps me out: I don't know whether it's the sprawling, drizzling countryside or the claustrophobic Tottenham Court Road station, but both the city and rural locations are used to great effect. The use of music is ridiculously heavy handed but the inclusion of songs with 'moon' in the title always raises a smile as well as an eye roll.

My spooky film watching seems a little down from previous years, but that's purely down to a) taking a collection of Spanish horrors to watch on a TV with no working remote, therefore no subtitles and b) an alarming upsurge in awesome things to watch on TV. Well. That were intended for TV and subsequently acquired. Sleepy Hollow has been surprisingly watchable and I'm super intrigued to see where it goes. (I did actually watch the Tim Burton film version recently too, although I'm fairly sure I blogged about it a few years ago. I doubt I'd have anything more to say on the subject: for my money it's possibly Burton's best). American Horror Story: Coven is only two episodes in, and already looks like it could be my favourite of the three so far. I was pleasantly surprised by Bates Motel: after initial disappointment that it was actually set nowadays, we got really into it and powered through the first season in a matter of days.

I'm sure after posting this I'll remember everything else I've watched this month but for now, my mind's drawing a blank. Which is probably just as well. It looks like the kind of night where I'd look out and see an oversized man in a white mask just staring up at me... I should probably go and look at pictures of pugs or something.

The Truth Is Out There. But It'll Cost You.

Ah, the internet. The great equaliser, international forum of fact and information sharing, home of amusing cats. Not even Jen from The IT Crowd could break it. Safe to say the internet has pretty much changed the way we conduct everything in life. Information we might never have known is readily available at our fingertips. We have the power to start revolutions. Or take pictures of cats sniffing our dinner plates. Whatever, I'm not governor of the internet. What you do with it is up to you.

OR IS IT? (ooh). There are many higher ups who would prefer the public are still kept in the dark when it comes to sensitive information, and those who sound the alarm are treated as outcasts, hounded down and often forced into hiding. The most famous and historically shocking was that of Wikileaks founder and platinum haired egotist/cyber prophet, Julian Assange.

Or quite possibly Ellen DeGeneres.

 

Depending on what you believe, he's either a freedom fighter for the digital age or sexually deviant blowhard who doesn't care about the consequences of his own actions. The anarchist in me likes to think the former, but there's no denying there's something a bit... odd there. The Fifth Estate attempts to lay bare the 'real story' of Wikileaks, which is somewhat difficult considering it's based on a book by his estranged former business partner Daniel Berg.

 

In any case, I enjoy a good biopic, and I also enjoy Benedict Cumberbatch. Despite bearing little physical resemblance to Assange (he kind of looks like a 6ft lizard crossed with Viserys Targaryen), he has the accent and mannerisms nailed. I also loved Daniel Bruhl in little-seen German film Goodbye, Lenin!, as well as Inglourious Basterds, and I'm enjoying his increased presence in mainstream Hollywood. So far so good, yes?

 

Well. Hmm. It's definitely a hit and miss affair. Being adapted from the side of the wronged party, The Fifth Estate paints a sympathetic portrait of Berg: a keen volunteer and initially Assange's biggest disciple, he becomes the 'straight man', reigning in his partner when he gets carried away by the bluster of his own ideas. Berg is seen here to be the one with common sense, who's looking out for people's well being while Assange seems intent of posting confidential documents regardless of the effect. Berg starts off as keen as Assange; posting the names and addresses of BNP members and proudly boasting to his kind-of girlfriend Alicia Vikander. He firmly believes that the information shouldn't be edited: this reflects bias, whereas Wikileaks only bias is towards the Truth.

 

"Look at my glorious beard, Benedict"

"I know, I Khan't quite believe it"

...sorry.

 

However, when super classified information about the Afghanistan and Iraq war logs is sent to the site, the bromance cools as Berg feels publishing the documents with names intact spells danger for those involved. It's all very tense, and they talk about it a lot in boardrooms and during heated hissy fits. This leads to one of my main problems with the film, and one of my pet hates: clunky exposition. The film's script is pretty explanatory, in that it doesn't leave much food for thought. It doesn't show anything; rather characters; backstories are revealed through lengthy monologues. Which wouldn't REALLY happen in real life.

 

Also, with the film being based on Berg's account of the story, much is made of his own private life. He was a Judo champion as a child. He has very supportive parents. There's a lot of time spent developing his relationship with his girlfriend. This would be a nice sub-plot in a fiction, but here I don't really care. It means  Assange is portrayed as some other worldly character, who we don't really dig under the skin of.

 

However, there's some attempt made to explain his motivations and why he is the way he is. The central relationship follows a nice arc, and the tension in their relationship is quite palpable. This, however, is down to the strength of the two lead performances. Quite often the supporting cast is left without much to do: David Thewlis is always a treat, but he does bluster an awfy lot. Peter Capaldi has a handful of lines, but sort of looks an ageing scarecrow wizard. Melisandre from Game Of Thrones shows up, leading me to the conclusion that the virus that eventually shuts down Wikileaks is in fact a cyber shadow child (I'm not sure; as I said it's not really explained). There's another subplot with Laura Linney as a US government aide whose career is put in jeopardy by the leaks, despite by (apparently) stellar track record. This one is probably the most developed, but it still feels a wee bit tacked on.

 

That said I did actually really enjoy this film. It's definitely a slow burner and the pace drops to a standstill at many points. It's definitely not for everyone, and some background knowledge/or interest in the scandal is probably necessary to see it through to the end. If you keep an open mind prior to watching, it's easy to get drawn into it: you're left wondering how much truth there actually is in anyone's story. Don't be put off by lazy comparisons to The Social Network: I for one liked it alot more than that. Although I really hated The Social Network. I kept wondering when Zuckerberg was going to send Spider-Man a box with JT's head in it. Or something. I definitely enjoyed it more than Assange himself. In the end, the truth of the story is so distorted that you're left to make up your own mind. Or find out more about it, at least. And isn't that really the point of a good controversy?



Insidious Really Isn't Very Good

I love me a good horror film. I also love me a bad horror film. However, when I say bad, I mean wobbly sets, wobblier accents and huge palmface moments kind of bad: think Demons, Return of The Living Dead, that kind of bad.

What really grinds my gears is a potentially good premise and a good first act thrown away by schlocky plotting and worse acting. The Conjuring was one of the highest grossing horrors of all time: good for the genre, bad for the endless vacuum of identifilms which will no doubt trail behind it. I wasn't a huge fan- there were a few good jumps but I rolled my eyes when the first ghost appeared and by the final act it had just descended into another by-the-numbers exorcism flick.

With Insidious 2 getting talked up a whole bunch, the boy and I decided to work on our ever-growing List and crack into the first one. The premise seemed interesting enough, if a little standard. However I did enjoy the first Saw (OK, the first three) and the writer/director combo of Leigh Whannel and James Wan was enough to sway me.

I had avoided Insidious because it had the bad luck to come out round about the same time as Orphan. If you haven't watched Orphan, don't. That's all I'm gonna say on the matter. I figured I'd be fair though, and give Insidious a fair chance. Turns out this was a mistake by my all too generous nature.

If you don't know or haven't guessed, the plot is fairly straightforward. Stressed out teacher dad Patrick Wilson and terrible ballad writer mum Rose Byrne and their floppy haired weans move into big, spooky house. Annoying oldest child questions lack of photographs of Dad then KO's into an inexplicable coma. Strange noises are heard on a baby monitor. More spooky things ensue. The family then move to another house (because it's that easy), where further spooky things ensue. Exposition dropping mother in law Barbara Hershey drops some exposition and tells them to call in a team of 'experts', batshit insane things ensue, BOOM, shovel to the face of a twist ending.

Thankfully I wasn't alone in thinking so. Rose Byrne thought so too.

Don't get me wrong, there were some very effective scares in this film. Mostly involving dancing children, which terrify me at the best of times. But this film is so keen to force scares in your face that most of them are hard to avoid. The lighting, sound design, hammy exposition: nothing's a surprise, so that when the good scares come along they're noticeably good.

Sadly anything which might have salvaged the film are ruined when the psychic investigator experts come a-knocking and the whole thing just becomes some weird inexplicable mess. When the link between annoying coma child and his Dad is revealed via some badly Photoshopped pictures, all logic (if that's even the word) flies out the door almost as fast as my interest.

All of this could have been somewhat saved if I had actually cared about any of the characters... but I didn't. Rose Byrne plays one bad ballad then sniffles and screams her way through the rest of the film. Patrick Wilson is predictably sceptical then buys right into it. The psychic investigators provide some laughs but they're dropped right in the middle of all the awkward hand-wringing that it feels a little cheap. There's a séance scene involving a gas mask that was unintentionally hilarious (at least I think it was), and then the climactic battle is a scare free zone that's like watching a bad stage play.

Overall, I'm very glad I watched Insidious. I could've watched the second one first and then went back to check out the original, but instead I've saved myself two hours. I'm... gonna consider that a win. Incidentally here's a better film that uses a baby monitor to beat you over the head with scares. You're welcome.

Catching Up, And Some Life Lessons

Sooo I pretty much all but abandoned this blog, along with my notion to WRITE MOAR, in the last couple of months. However ever since I posted an old blog on Twitter, I've noticed a wee jump in page views, and as anyone who's ever sat in a orthodontist's waiting room knows, it's nice to have something new to read. (My orthodontist's collection of gossip magazines is still speculating the sex of Kim Kardashian's human/camel hybrid. I expect more).

Kunts.

 

In any case I've been busy, so I've had excuses. I've been dipping a toe in the water of post-production sound (read: DREAM JOB), while making dollah doing location sound trainee work. For anyone unaccustomed to industry ranking, it's like flipping burgers in McDonald's when what you really want is to be a Michelin starred sociopath, screaming at potato peelers and spitting on guests for even daring to want to eat what you're cooking.

Still, all experience is good experience for a floundering freelance masochist like myself. It also meant I got my own digs for a month while working away from home. By digs, I mean 'student halls'. A step up from the halls I lived in aged 17, but halls nonetheless. At least these ones were en suite with a double bed. My old one featured an Oompa Loompa sized mattress and I had to share a prison style bathroom with five other girls. When it came to time of the month, it was kill or be killed.

The days were long, so my time in digs was minimal at best. I also had time to reflect on my trainee life, given that there were only two people living on each floor and I didn't hear as much as another door slam for my first fortnight. I hadn't done such a long term job in a while, and was clearly a teeny bit out of practise. After a month, I was a trainee machine. I could lift several heavy things at once while only breaking a very mild sweat. In the hope of retaining some of what I learned for 'next time', I compiled a list of all some of the lessons I learned along the way. Mostly for my own benefit and reference, but hey, I'm all about sharing information.*

*If I never get another job again and do actually end up asking you if you want to upgrade to a large for an extra £1, please feel free to disregard any of what you're about to read. I won't take offence.

1. There is no such thing as too many jobs at once.
Seriously. It might seem like you're being asked to do a million things at once and you'll never be able to do them all. That's because you are, and you won't. Not at first. When you first start out, the trick is to always look like you're getting on with things. Always stand next to a flight case or floor bag if you feel like a wee doss, but make sure it's not closed over fully. That way, you can slam it shut as someone comes in the room, as if you've JUST finished taking care of some business before you take on the rest.

2. Sleep is for the weak.
It's amazing how little you need once you get into a routine. It almost becomes a game, albeit the least fun game ever. As long as you know the words 'yes', 'no' and 'I'll get right on it' you can usually fumble through your day on autopilot. I usually find this ably supported by an over-dependence on caffeine. Which brings me to my next point...

Pictured above: a lazy intern who hasn't mastered the art of linking several straws so not even sleep can interrupt coffee time.

 

3. If you don't like coffee, you better start.
There's not much else. On-set tea generally tastes like someone's brewed an armpit, and no amount of milk and sugar will disguise it. On-set coffee tastes like brown flavoured water, but it's a vast improvement. It might also help to drink it straight out of the kettle or coffee pot; that way you might hopefully scald your tongue and therefore suppress the taste. For the most part this rule can also be applied to catering and copious sachets of salt.

4. Prepare for all climates by dressing unattractively.
Unless your job involves hair, make up or clothes. For the most part, you don't have much time to preen. As long as you, y'know, wash. Things like hair can slide. In fact it stays in place easier if you can slick it back into a ponytail using a sweet layer of natural oil, thus removing the need for hairspray. As for the face, carting batteries, mics and multiple rolls of carpet will give you a healthy sheen. Delicious!

5. Fill your pockets.
Not in a theft kinda way. Just make sure you always have pens (ball point and mini Sharpie if possible. Mini Sharpies just scream "I don't have room in my busy pockets for full sized pens!"). AA batteries too, just because they're kind of technical and someone will at some point always need one. This way you can creep up like a shadow, batteries in hand, ready to swoop in and save the day. Until you inevitably get in someone's way moments later. If you have room, stuff a copy of your script in there too. Thus should be marked up with a shorthand of your own making: it looks like you've made loads of super important notes super quick, and no one will be able to detect that you've actually just reminded yourself to get Febreze so you can continue to smoke in your room with your head out of the window. If you can remember what it is you've actually written.

6. And at the end of it all, SPEND.
SPEND LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW. You've worked for it. You've put your life on hold. And you've been really good not spending anything and squirrelling money away buying 10 fags and two pints of milk while on the job. Who cares if the next job isn't lined up right away? You've always got to look your best in case such an occurrence comes along.

Prior Preparation Prevents Poor Performance

It appears that I've broken through the first hurdle of legitimate job hunting. The first stage, applying to whatever I carefully select regardless of suitability, usually results in outright 'naw's. They tell me it's nothing to do with me but they went elsewhere anyway. Which is not entirely reassuring, but they've mind-banged me into thinking that it kind of is.

The second stage is where you liberally throw all of the shit at all of the walls, and actually start to get some feedback. This stage is features the occasional interview, which for me is a welcome relief. Unfortunately the danger here is that you forget what you've applied to, therefore are completely unaware of what shit has stuck.

Last week, I found myself being invited along for a cheeky last minute interview for what I assumed was a bar job. I was brimming with confidence. This is, after all, a job I can do in my sleep. (Sometimes I have. I dreamed I was doing a day shift and slept in for my actual day shift). I went along safe in the knowledge that I'd be at least qualified for the punting of swally.

As it turned out- and I instantly learned- you should ALWAYS KNOW WHAT YOU APPLIED TO when you go for an interview. Here is a rundown of mistakes that can possibly be made (that is to say, I actually made them), how humourless grey suited managers will interpret them (judging by the look in their eyes) and how to save face. In hindsight. Always in hindsight.

1. "Tell us about your friends and family, social activities etc".
What I said: "Umm my best friend lives in Aberdeen and I'm on Jobseeker's so I don't do much in the way of social actitivies, thank God for prepaid Cineworld Unlimited cards eh?"
What I SHOULD have said: "I enjoy a wide range of activities, such as running children's arts and crafts groups, baking, knitting, developing business strategies for funsies based on what I watch on the Stock Market channel and taking elderly people out for walks and stone skimming as they talk about yesteryear as if anything post 1960s had never happened. I have friends of all colours, races and creeds and my life is a sparkling rainbow of diversity".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I like to skin cats. Sometimes I don't even kill them first. I make the owners watch. After a while they just... stop screaming".

                                                                                      (Source: videoflavour)

Relax, kitty. I'm more afraid of you than you are of me. For serious.

2. "Tell us about your most prolific role and what your duties were"
What I said: "Ehh barmaid, but it was in a rock bar so I got to pick all the tunes which was cool, nothing worse than being stuck somewhere with rubbish music ahahahahaha! Umm apart from that I kind of done, y'know, like, everything. Table serving and stuff".
What I SHOULD have said: "As a supervisor my duties could include anything from daily set up, training staff, serving customers, counting all the pennies, totally not pretending to mishear orders so I could have a cheeky wee double Jack sitting in the wee dookit where we wash the glasses".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I totally pretended to mishear orders so I could have a cheeky wee double Jack sitting in the wee dookit where we wash the glasses".

3. "Can you give us an example of when another colleague has ever looked to you for support?"
What I said: "yeah man when I lived in town I picked up all the extra shifts when folk phoned in sick 'cause I lived round the corner. Easy money and I could get there in like, 6 minutes if I smoked really fast and didn't stop for oncoming traffic".
What I SHOULD have said: "I acted as a liaison between staff and management, a smiling face of the proletariat but one with the unbridled trust of the greater hierarchy. I was a woman of the people, addressing complaints and not minding when someone couldn't lift more than one box at a time from the stock room".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "People always came to me when they wanted good skag. I made more money from that in a day than I did in a week of underpouring shots".

4. "What's your availability regarding notice period and hours?"
What I said: "I live in Cumbernauld and my buses finish pretty early so I might not be able to hang around after like, 12. maybe 11 just to be safe".
What I SHOULD have said: "I'm available immediately and I can do any hours. I'll take out the last bin and mop up the last puddle of sick. I'll get taxis or rent a room in the Eurohostel if need be even if it means I'm not actually making any money".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "NEVER! (MANIACAL LAUGH)!!!"

5. "Do you have any questions about the job? How much do you know about it?"
What I said: "To be honest I've been applying for so many jobs lately that I'd actually forgotten what the job was... umm, I mean, until I got the phone call the other day".
What I SHOULD have said: "I am [insert job advert here] who is also [select from keen, enthusiastic, self motivated, team player, customer focused, driven by the best representation of the brand] with a can do attitude".
What I might as well have said, judging by the reaction: "I put the buffet out whenever there was a birthday party on. I didn't care how it went as long as there were spring rolls left".

                                                   (Source: menuism)

I REGRET NOTHING. NOTHIIIIIIINNNNGGG!!!!

They said they'd get back to me at the end of next week. Fingers crossed!

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Sit Ups

Like 975,000 others of my kind, my days are spent glued to a laptop effectively infertilising myself with the amount of time I spend with this machine on my lap. Technically I'm a freelance sound assistant, but in the eyes of the government and my mum, this lack of sustainable income translates as the less creative sounding 'unemployed'. Still, if the time I spend on the internet pretending to no one that I'm applying to all the jobs has taught me anything, it's that for every dark cloud of rejection there is a silver lining in the form of inspirational memes. I've mentioned them before but they seem to have exploded in number. Much like bunnehs. On a side note, who doesn't like bunnehs?

                                                  (source: omgsocute )

They say if you look at this photo adoringly for long enough you cry tears made of rainbow diamonds and all conversations are conducted in song, like in the Disneyverse or that episode of Buffy.

 

Awwhh. Well I feel better. In any case I still have some of my favourite ever inspirational memes stashed away in a photo folder, just in case I become hardened to the sight of tiny fluffy smooshy BUNNEHS.

 

I truly hope that day never comes.

 

                                                       (source: tumblr )

Sometimes I do actually in a non sarcastic sense think on how I'm actually pretty lucky in having a place to stay. Because if I were to be maintaining the foolish impression that I could keep up with rent that 'someone' would be a rancid tramp who'd be trying to share his last splashback riddled bottle of White Lightning with me and I accept because I ran out of mouthwash. Sometimes it's the umm, little things.

                                                       (source: tumblr )

If that person is in fact wearing scaffy looking white boxers standing next to an unkempt and possibly stained looking not-quite-double bed, they're probably called Travis and you're in a motel. Travis is paying you $100 for the night and he's even splashing for the room. He's calling you an angel but he's also calling himself Daddy Bear. He probably has Dorito dust under his fingernails.

                                    (source: tumblr )

I decided I didn't want to feel like a human anymore. I wanted to feel like a mermaid. I filled my pockets with boulders and walked into the ocean fully clothed, assuming that it'd be like the reverse of The Little Mermaid and would totally work as long as I sang about how I wanted to be where the fishies are. In hindsight it's lucky that I'm a strong swimmer because this was a horribly misjudged idea based on terrible advice.

                                                        (source: tumblr )

It's like that time I was late for the train because I'd left my lighter in the house and I was damned if I was paying for another one AGAIN. I got to the station as the train pulled up but I was still smoking so I let it get jogged on. I got the next train instead which didn't stop anywhere before town. I felt like I had been given the Gift Of Time, which I then squandered deciding which shade of red hair dye to spend my Boots Advantage points on before opting for the same one I always do.

 

                                                       (source: tumblr )

With all my time off I've been working on Plan X. I was inspired by the £3 copy of X Men: First Class I bought when I went to Tesco's to buy cigarettes and milkshake. I plan on putting a fork in the microwave so it explodes and sends nuclear waves into the kitchen and myself, giving me super cool radiation powers and qualifying me for a place in Magneto's gang. I've been practising stabbing Nazis in the hand and everything.

I Like My Coffee Black (With A Wee Straw)

If I were to calculate the amount of money I've spent in Starbucks over the years, I'd weep. I'd weep for the corporate stooge I'd become, hating myself for the meth-like grip the evil empire had over me. I used to go in every day when I was at college. In fact, we'd quite often be late just to ensure we got our daily fix. I'm not entirely sure anyone cared. You can't be a dark, brooding art student without coffee. And a copy of The Catcher in the Rye that you don't actually read.

I wasn't aware that the South Park goth kids were supposed to be some sort of ironic piss take. In fact I applauded them for creating characters I could actually relate to. Was my face red!

 

Anyway. Starbucks and I have enjoyed a healthy fruitful relationship. We both have a laissez faire approach to paying the Government. They've now decided that a multinational corporation needs to be seen as 'friendly', and 'approachable', and have some kind of human connection. After all, shops are closing every day. People need somewhere familiar. Somewhere they can forget about their financial woes while paying as much for a single coffee as they would for a jar. In order to do so, they've come up with the idea of taking names. Now, my name is apparently quite easy to get wrong. All of it. I never order taxis under my own name, there's just no point. So when I'm shouting it over a counter, surrounded by noisy buzzin' bean junkies, the results are always going to be... umm... mixed at best...

 

This was the first attempt. Before now, I just thought they were selective with who they asked. The last time I'd went into Starbucks, the girl in front of me had been asked her name. She was very classically pretty, like she'd waltzed out of American Apparel. She looked like she would smell nice, and her hair was swooshy. By comparison, I didn't get asked for my name. I wasn't wearing eyeliner and I'd had a long day at uni. The girl behind me didn't get asked for her name either. She looked like Hatchet Face from Cry Baby.

 This is the most common misspelling/mispronunciation of my name. For years all I got was, "is your name Adrian 'cause yer maw's pure intae Rocky?". In protest I didn't watch Rocky until I was about 18; old enough to be over the embarrassment and to also know that no, I was not named after Rocky's girlfriend. I mean I'm sure my folks liked the film, but naming your child after a supporting character is a pretty bold statement. An opinion my future son, Wayne Gale Magneto Peter Venkman Calgie, will undoubtedly share.

 

 I'm embarrassed to admit that the only time my name has ever been spelled correctly was on a non-black coffee related product. I'd smelled some Jack Daniel's in someone else's glass the night before, and it had left me feeling a bit worse for wear. I couldn't face my usual black tar, and I wanted something sweet that was also non-food based. Have you ever ordered a Frappucino? It's impossible to do so without mentally giving yourself the 'wanker' gesture. And also shouting 'wanker!' at yourself, in your own head. Damned if it was tasty though, but next time I might give a fake name. Just so, y'know, if said cup is found it can't be traced back to me. I've got a reputation to maintain.

 

And we're back. I've never had a correct spelling of my name since that first time. Usually I just stop being a wanker and say 'Ada'. It's easier. It's three letters. Sometimes I get 'Ava', but you know what, I wouldn't mind if that was my name, so that's OK too. Most times I remember I actually have none of the money I did at college and bypass it. However, yesterday I needed some perking up after facing town on payday Friday. That's a tough shift, I'd earned it. The one thing I do like about my name is that no one else has it. OR SO I THOUGHT. The guy in front of me had been sent on the office coffee run. He was getting BAGS full of coffee based goodness. He was rhyming off the names for everyone's drink. I was pretty agitated as he was taking FOREVER, and my caffeine supplies were running low. My ears perked up when I suddenly heard him ask for a "mocha, that's for Ada, A-D-A". I was too embarrassed to be seen having the same name as someone who'd drink a mocha. I didn't want to be associated with this impostor and her lack of commitment to one thing. Is it hot chocolate? Is it coffee? At least a Frappucino is self-consciously flamboyant, like a peacock. It doesn't try and masquerade itself as a legitimate coffee option. Boo you, mocha, and boo you Fake Ada for tarnishing the reputation I only just got away with after the Frappucino incident.