Ice cream makes everything better

What a peculiar day. My seminar tutor and I had a difference of opinion. He spent ten minutes defending something that I wasn't intending to attack; pointing out that there's no point my being here unless some things are wrong and some are right. I know that. I'm no relativist. But I didn't see how that equated to me being wrong and him being right, and it would have been just wonderful if he could have explained that part.

So, I felt quite got at, zoned and, and drew cartoons on the back of the poem instead. A girl in my seminar group said how ridiculous it was for him to attack the one person who actually contributes stuff in discussions. And now I'm worried that I might a) go completely silent, b) disagree with him on everything, or c) nod and smile at everything he says until he cries or something. I bought comfort ice cream on the way home. I'm buying too much unhealthy stuff these days, I feel all fat and gross. Boooo.

That was quite rubbish. And now I'm home with an essay to finish, and that's quite rubbish too, but I'm in a much better mood than I was due to a rather odd phone call I got from Gavin. He's gone mountain-climbing with his friends (Ben Nevis apparently, well done them), and the following was a conversation between myself, Gavin, and Stu.

Hey honey!
Hi girl, how are you feeling?
Better thanks. Done emo-ing now.
Have you met Stu?
Errr don't remember...
Say hello.
Ok, hi!
Hello! I'm in my pants!
*laughs* Great. Is Gav in his pants too?
No. He's not looking.
*couldn't make this bit out but I swear I heard the word 'twitching' in there*
Ok honey I'm gonna leave you to it...
Alright sweetie. Love you, bye!

So that cheered me up, and then I went downstairs for some trashy sitcom action and more ice cream. Ah well, back to that essay...

Mobular Telephonium - aka Phone Rage

In a letter to the Independent last week, Ashley Martin wrote: “Congratulations to the scientists who have developed technology that enables mobile phones to be used under water. Perhaps they could now invent technology that enables mobile phones to be used in north Norfolk.”

I'd like to propose the same technology to be trialled in Plymouth. Please. I'm remarkably patient about the terrible signal, considering what it does. Which is the following.

Incoming calls:
It rings, I answer the phone. I can't hear you. The signal cuts out. You ring again, and again, and again, until finally I have some signal and the call connects. Then it's (mostly) fine.

Outgoing calls:
Oh, it didn't work. No signal.
Oh, it didn't work again. Wait until I have signal.
ONE BAR!! GO GO GO!
...
No bars. Dammit.
Repeat until it finally goes through and pray to God that it holds while I get the Very Important Information / soothing noises that I so sorely need.

My service provider, three, actually called me once, miraculously getting through for long enough to ask how happy I was with their service. You can bet the signal got 'mentioned'.

Honestly though I think it's harder on other people than it is on me. Months and months of a crash-happy laptop have taught me to be supremely patient with flaky technology.

And while I'm complaining about this, because heavens help me I'm getting so good at complaining that it seems a shame to stop now, my phone's camera is broken. Every time I try to take a picture or video, it crashes my phone and I have to turn it off and on again. That would never have happened to my 3310 (for the obvious reasons that it only has two buttons, "stop" and "go"). I honestly think I'll get one of those fabulously retro beauties next time I buy a phone.

Interesting thing of the day: Spy Phones. Utter genius. Highly immoral of course.