This is MY HOUSE!

6:33am, and I am heartily sick of the following words and phrases: 'journalism', 'blogosphere', 'tradional media standards', and 'mainstream journalistic organisations'. Also the word 'moustachioed'. Actually I'm not sick of that word at all, I think it's great, but I had to throw it in because it's the blog's running joke word, and hasn't been on the site since the comment for 1981 down there, which was made on the 5th of March...

Anyways, I own the Political Science department. Nyahahaha. I have thought long and hard over the course of the evening about what havoc I might wreak on it, but after ruling out the option of burning it down, I am reduced to spreading my thesisical (new word) accoutrements over a surface area roughly equivalent to that of a North Sea oil rig, although my own area does lack regular perambulations by grubby-overall-donning hugely-torsoed roughnecks named 'Scuzzer' who live on the edge by constantly defying those copyright infringement warnings at the start of hired videotapes. As if by way of karmic compensation, I have worked my way (with the earlier assistance of Nic and Tim) through two and a half 1.5 litre bottles of Coke, although I'm not sure the 750 mls of remaining Cokey goodness will be of too much use when we throw a bit in shaft 3 and the reserve line goes up in flames. You never know though.

Anyway, I was going to post a summary of what we came up with history game wise, so anyone interested would not have to scroll through all 157 posts, but we might leave that out for now, as strangely enough I can't be bothered scrolling through 157 posts. Interestingly computer games, Goon Show and Blackadder routines and seemingly every sightly significant event in Claire's life (Claire sits bursary! Claire listens to U2! Claire eats a bowl of cereal! etc.) have all been deemed historically noteworthy. I must congratulate all particpants on seeing it through, although for such a bunch of supposedly smart cookies, the manifest failure of some to follow the simple 'no consecutive posts' instructions is slightly concerning. But never mind, it worked out a treat. Now I shall have to think of another cunningly comment-greedy game. I'm sure Dave will beat me to it though, if he thinks it will get him some precious hits, which are of course like crack to him. He had you all following the 'Mysterious Girl' saga, didn't he? Well it was lies, people, all lies. There WAS no girl. There is only EVER a 53 year old truck driver named Rodney. Now that story arc is ended, watch for Dave's long-lost evil twin sister Davella, previously assumed dead in an ostrich-racing incident, to return in an upcoming episodes.

Oh and in other news, I am in the Dramasoc production of Alice in Wonderland, also starring the eCosm projector. There are two parts available; one of us will be the White Rabbit, and one of us gets to project a series of scenes and video montages onto a rather cunning stage screen arrangement. Consequently, I've had my bulb changed, and have been practicing my resolution changes hard over the past week. Let the projector wear the stupid bunny ears. Dan is the Mad Hatter, and is sufficiently mad. It should be good. Actually the script says the White Rabbit has pink eyes, so I'm thinking in order to be authentic for the part, I'll have to stay up for 3 days and then get totally smashed before every performance. I think it's within my range as an actor.

My ownership of the department is challenged, as a slightly crazy-eyed and generally strange looking North American woman has turned up, and offered to proof read my thesis without actually knowing my name. Clearly she is on the run from a mental asylum - I don't want to read my thesis, and I'm the one writing it. Still, it's more likely that at this hour of the morning, as two souls alone at a university, we share the unspoken 'I have no life' bond. You can tell that you have reached this mystic understanding with someone when you are working in the Loft what seems like 27AM with one other person, without saying anything, the two of you take it in turns to stand up and wave your hands at the motion detector when the power saver turns the lights off. It's perhaps something to do with your bio-rhythms tuning into the quiet air of desperation - that's what the scientists might have ou believe perhaps, but who knows what magic goes on in this strange, twilight world...people are afraid to tell the stories in case they are laughed at, of course, but many's the time I've been working in the lab late at night, blanked out, snapped to again, and discovered that somewhere in that lost time,I've written 500 words of essay...

Speaking of which, time to kill this chapter dead. And just cause links are good to have, go scope out Premiere magazine's recently released list of the top 100 movie characters. Interesting.

Right then. 1000 words to go. Forth to fight the fire.