My Forgetter's Getting Better, But My Rememberer's Broke
I just wasted half an hour of my time walking up and down a slope to get my schoolbag back from where I'd forgotten it. Fortunately nobody else had seen it and the contents were all intact...
It's been a weird week.
First off, I guess there was that Math test on Tuesday--all the mugging seems to have paid off a little, since this time the complaint is there wasn't enough time to do it all, rather than that I forgot all the necessary formulae. Well, actually I did forget some of those formulae, except that I managed to remember them again with about ten minutes left to do them with; so I ran out of time before managing to apply them. Rather frustrating really.
And then that night, I got introduced (through Silver D and Clay Sister) to Brain Rink, which set off a bunch of decidedly strange happenings. Because, you see, Brain Rink is also in Spore, and although she's 21 and Muslim, she's definitely very, hmmm, liberated: her conversation tends, more often than not, to be very, hmmm, spicy, if you understand. She's got a very good idea of the reproductive system of both genders and what to do with each, and she certainly says so. (Or, since we were on MSN, she certainly typed so.)
I found out on Wednesday that she had a growth in her brain, which the doctors have pronounced to be a benign tumour; Divinity and Silver D immediately went into hysterics at Brain Rink's declaration that she would absolutely not go for the operation to remove it and so condemn herself to one more year of life before dropping dead.
And then I was somehow convinced to give Brain Rink a phone call to update Silver D and Divinity on her condition (since both of them were out of credit and I had 100 minutes' free call time). And apparently my voice changes over the phone or it develops unpredictable characteristics when I'm trying to talk softly, but the net result was that after the phone call (during which I extracted various cancer-related information from Brain Rink) she SMSed Divinity and Silver, burbling on and on about my "sexy manly voice" (I quote).
The next day, she decided to go for the operation after all--she'll be having it next week, so the funeral's been postponed by several decades--so Silver D became happy again--she's Sanguine, very much so, and decidedly emo as a direct result.
But the net result of me calling her (and, later, succumbing to more nagging by Silver D and calling her) is that they now persist in admiring what they call my "manly" voice. Brain Rink later found out I'm Chinese, and has updated her opinion of me to "hot". It's quite horrifying, I tell you, when people you meet online are diagnosed with brain cancer the next day and then proceed to decide that you have a voice that (again, I quote) "sends tingles down [her] spine" when you laugh.
I asked Cheeky and the Emoticon about their opinions of my voice, and they said I sound normal to them; so apparently this effect is restricted to over-the-phone speech. The Emoticon added that the conventional next step in the conversation is to thank them for the compliment and leave it at that; but knowing Brain Rink, she won't.
It's scary, OK? I don't know how to respond to this sort of thing. Flirting is so definitely not me...
It's been a weird week.
First off, I guess there was that Math test on Tuesday--all the mugging seems to have paid off a little, since this time the complaint is there wasn't enough time to do it all, rather than that I forgot all the necessary formulae. Well, actually I did forget some of those formulae, except that I managed to remember them again with about ten minutes left to do them with; so I ran out of time before managing to apply them. Rather frustrating really.
And then that night, I got introduced (through Silver D and Clay Sister) to Brain Rink, which set off a bunch of decidedly strange happenings. Because, you see, Brain Rink is also in Spore, and although she's 21 and Muslim, she's definitely very, hmmm, liberated: her conversation tends, more often than not, to be very, hmmm, spicy, if you understand. She's got a very good idea of the reproductive system of both genders and what to do with each, and she certainly says so. (Or, since we were on MSN, she certainly typed so.)
I found out on Wednesday that she had a growth in her brain, which the doctors have pronounced to be a benign tumour; Divinity and Silver D immediately went into hysterics at Brain Rink's declaration that she would absolutely not go for the operation to remove it and so condemn herself to one more year of life before dropping dead.
And then I was somehow convinced to give Brain Rink a phone call to update Silver D and Divinity on her condition (since both of them were out of credit and I had 100 minutes' free call time). And apparently my voice changes over the phone or it develops unpredictable characteristics when I'm trying to talk softly, but the net result was that after the phone call (during which I extracted various cancer-related information from Brain Rink) she SMSed Divinity and Silver, burbling on and on about my "sexy manly voice" (I quote).
The next day, she decided to go for the operation after all--she'll be having it next week, so the funeral's been postponed by several decades--so Silver D became happy again--she's Sanguine, very much so, and decidedly emo as a direct result.
But the net result of me calling her (and, later, succumbing to more nagging by Silver D and calling her) is that they now persist in admiring what they call my "manly" voice. Brain Rink later found out I'm Chinese, and has updated her opinion of me to "hot". It's quite horrifying, I tell you, when people you meet online are diagnosed with brain cancer the next day and then proceed to decide that you have a voice that (again, I quote) "sends tingles down [her] spine" when you laugh.
I asked Cheeky and the Emoticon about their opinions of my voice, and they said I sound normal to them; so apparently this effect is restricted to over-the-phone speech. The Emoticon added that the conventional next step in the conversation is to thank them for the compliment and leave it at that; but knowing Brain Rink, she won't.
It's scary, OK? I don't know how to respond to this sort of thing. Flirting is so definitely not me...
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