31 October 2005


This afternoon I was sitting in front of my computer, planning my Halloween evening of sitting at home, by myself, watching all the Halloween episodes of Buffy and eating popcorn, when the following Email arrived in my inbox:

Fancy joining myself and Nat in Ben Crouches for halloween drinks tonight?

I had thought the other day that Ben Crouches would be a fun pub in which to spend Halloween. After all, the place is adorned with such spooky goodness as this funky gremlin all year round:

A gremlin with wings and a cyborgy eye

So, I accepted the invitation, and headed off towards the pub.

On our table was a pumpkin, all ready to be carved. So, after we ate, Nat and I used our knives to carve a face into it.

Nat carving a face into the pumpkin

I did the right eye and the nose. Nat did the left eye and the mouth. Rob refused to participate in the carvage because he feared the pumpkin would collapse.

It didn't stop him playing with the removed pieces once the carving had been done:

Nat and Rob posing with the removed pumpkin pieces.

Very soon, our pumpkin looked like this:

Our pumpkin

And Rob decided to name him "Eric."

We did not have any candles about our persons unfortunately. We did however have mobile phones, so we managed to make Eric glow:

Eric glowing from the backlight of three mobile phones inside him.

At some point during the evening, I acquired a hat:

Me wearing a witches hat with silver cobwebs on it

Of course, Eric tried it on:

Eric the pumpkin wearing my witches hat

Turns out that Eric's a smoker:

Eric with a fag hanging out of his mouth

And when he ran out of cigarettes, he got desperate and tried to smoke a tube of Smarties:

Eric with a tube of Smarties hanging out of the corner of his mouth

Eric and Rob had a deep and meaningful conversation:

Rob listening intently to Eric the pumpkin

Though, at some point in the conversation, Eric said something shocking:

Rob looking dramatically at Eric

Eric and I got on well:

Me and Eric

Perhaps a little too well:

Me snogging Eric

And then, after I'd worked my way through over half of the Seven Deadly Sins cocktail menu, it was time to go. Nat gave Eric a very sweet goodbye kiss:

Nat kissing Eric the pumpkin on the cheek

And we left Eric on the table for others to appreciate our creativity (but I wore my hat all the way home).

25 October 2005

Back to uni

Don't read the subject line and panic. I haven't gone back on my vow that I never want to write another essay in my life and gone and signed up for a Masters or something equally silly.

It's bad enough that I still have nightmares that I've got upcoming deadlines and I'm not sure what I'm meant to be writing about, or when exactly the deadline is. At least these days I can reassure myself that it was just a bad dream. My degree is all over now. Yes, I did rubbish in it because I never did any work. But, it's all in the past. Now go back to sleep Lisy, it's alright.


On Saturday night I performed at the Comedy Night in the students union at Brunel.

And I thought that place was a shithole when I was a student. It's now just one great big building site (though it does still in places have the A Clockwork Orange look going on. Unsurprising really as it remains depressingly concrete which was what made Kubrick think it an ideal location for shooting the film. For three years I had my lectures in the building which made for the block of flats in which the protagonist in that movie lived). Twenty five minutes it took me to find the way in to the SU because they've moved and hidden the door. When I finally followed someone going in I realised that I'd passed the door twice. I just got confused by the sign next to it saying "Protective headgear must be worn beyond this point." I knew The Academy could get a bit rough, but...

I must confess, I had been dreading the evening. Once during my three years at Brunel I went to the comedy night. The audience were so rude to the acts (not even heckling, just flat out ignoring) that I decided that, actually, I'd head into Central London to get my comedic fixes. And then, 2 and a half years after leaving, here was I not only going back, but, actually getting up on the stage in front of these people.

As soon as I entered the building, I thought I was going to be sick. That wasn't nerves mind, that was because of the smell of alcohol and still being hungover from 2 nights earlier. Then I went to go to the bathroom and some delightful student had chundered in the sink in the crip bog. That smell didn't help my uneasy stomach either.

The difference about between being a "performer" and being a student became clear then. A member of venue staff had had to show me where the disabled toilet was, seeing as it had moved since I graduated. If I tried to go in the spot where the disabled toilet used to be, I'd have ended up squatting behind the bar. Upon seeing the sick filled sink, he went, "Oh, no! Don't go in there! I'll clean that up first!" I do seem to recall several times whilst a student mentioning that the disabled toilet was flooded and being greeted with a "yeah, so?"

In amongst my dread of going back, there was one thing I was desperately looking forward to. I was going to get to perform upon a stage which had been performed upon by none other than the great Tiffany herself (yes, the one who thought she was alone now) just two and a half years earlier. Imagine my disappointment when the new look Academy came into full view, and the stage had gone and been replaced by another!?! My hopes dashed, I decided to go and sit backstage and hang out with the other comics until showtime.

It appears that when they refurbished The Academy, the one bit they forgot to do was "The Guest Room." When I say "it was a toilet" I don't mean it was a bit icky. I mean it was an actual toilet. With no seat. And a paint spattered brown sofa in the corner.

One of the comedians I recognised as soon as I entered the room. Which surprised me because my face recognition is appalling. Very often comics will say to me "Oh, I remember you, we gigged together at ......," and I never recognise them. Until they get on stage and suddenly I find myself about to recall their set almost word for word. And, sure enough, she got about halfway through her set and suddenly I was able to recall where, when, and who promoted the gig we did together.

The night was MCed by the comedy double act best known as Big Cook Little Cook. It is remarkably entertaining to watch children's TV presenters singing silly songs about sex. It feels slightly naughty, even though no-one in the room is in fact under 18.

I was on in the middle section of the show. I went on stage, still disappointed that it's not the same one on which Tiffany had walked. I told my first joke, and the audience laughed so loudly for so long at one point I feared I wouldn't get another one out in my allotted time slot. My nerves and nightmares had all been for nothing, as Brunel apparently now has nice students. Well, they'd have to be to put up with paying all that money to do their degree on a building site I suppose. When I came out to them as a Brunel graduate they all cheered at me, surprisingly not quite as loudly as when I came out to them as an Essex girl though. It was quite nice to be gigging on familiar territory as even "so, does the fire alarm still go off in Mill Hall five times a night?" got a laugh (Mill being the hall of residence in which I resided in my first year).

I fear that several of my punchlines may have gotten drowned out by the laughter which kicked in two words into the line. But, fuck it. I was there to make them laugh, and I did. Even if I couldn't even hear my own punchlines over the laughter because it was so loud.

As I said my farewell, I said "It was a pleasure to come back." And, you know what? I actually meant it.

I came off the stage and a girl I'd never met before flung her arms around me and told me how amazing I was. She seemed "bubbly, friendly and outgoing" rather than "scary," so I hugged her back and said "thanks," rather than flinching and shrieking. I like that kind of feedback, so whenever I see an act I enjoy I make every effort to tell them. Mind you, I do also try to keep my arms to myself as I'm sure that to most folks I come across as "nut."

This time last week I couldn't imagine me typing this... but, I want to do it again!

18 October 2005

Incurable Hippie has tagged me to post 20 random facts about myself and then tag the same amount of people as minutes it takes me to write the facts. Except, I'm not going to tag people. Mainly, because I don't really know who reads my blog regularly.

But, have some facts:

1) Last night I had a bubble bath for the first time in years. It was very bubbly, thanks for asking.

2) I dislike feet. They smell. My biggest foot hate though is people with skanky fungal toenails who wear sandals. I firmly believe that wearing sandals should be made a criminal offence.

3) I hate mushrooms. I'm allergic to eggs, but, I'd rather eat an egg than mushrooms. That is the extent of how vile and evil I believe mushrooms to be.

4) The stapler on my desk currently contains pink staples. But, purple staples are my real stapling passion.

5) Despite identifying as a lesbian; I do have a crush on the character Spike from Buffy/Angel. I can justify this by saying "But, he's a fictional character. They could've cast a female actor to play that role." But, if I'm honest, I do think that James Marsters is unusually hot for a guy. Or, at least he was when he was blonde.

6) The majority of pens laying around my flat are purple. Some are perfumed, some are glittery, some are metallic shiny, but, purple is the over-riding theme.

7) I only wear novelty socks, because, they're easier to pair up when you pull them out of the wash.

8) One of my feet is a size 4. The other is a size 2.5.

9) My right leg is 2 and a half inches longer than my left.

10) I'm left-handed. When I was a child I was ambidextrous because I had to learn to do everything with both hands due to always having one or the other in plaster. But, now my right hand is definitely my non-handed hand.

11) My eyes are greeny hazel with blue whites.

12) I have a mini-mirrorball above my desk (can you tell I'm just looking around me for inspiration?)

13) I'm not superstitious, and I don't really believe that the number "13" is unlucky. But, I never have my stereo or car radio on volume setting "13".

14) I do not have a favourite film. I've seen and loved too many.

15) I could quite happily live on a diet of Pesto Pasta.

16) I hate washing up almost as much as I hate mushrooms. I wish my kitchen was big enough for a dishwasher.

17) I am incredibly severely punctually challenged. I can never be on time for anything. No matter how hard I try. If I set off early enough to plan to be somewhere early there will be some traffic/public transport nightmare that will inevitably lead to me being late.

18) Someone just buzzed my door saying "Did you ring for a taxi?" Um. No.

19) I have a burning desire to make some yummy vegetable soup. But, I'm not sure I can be bothered.

20) This has actually taken me 47 minutes to complete because I got distracted by the telly.

17 October 2005

Last week was an odd week. I kinda knew it was going to be right from the start.

I woke up on Monday morning, went in and said "Good Morning" to The Swede on my sofa, and then went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face to rinse away the crusty sleepy gluey crap that was stopping my eyes from opening. I turned on the tap: No water came out. Great way to start the week... huh?

So I wound up going to see Serenity smelly. Even The Swede sat one seat away from me rather than next to me.

After the movie, we went out for a final night dinner as The Swede was returning to Sweden first thing on Tuesday morning. As the bus pulled up at the stop nearest to the restaurant, I rang the "special" bell in the cripple enclosure not once, but twice. The driver did not get the ramp out, so, I shouted down the bus "Driver, can you get the ramp out please?"

He turned around and leaned out of his cab and said; "Oh, do you want to get off?"

No. I just like the siren noise the ramp makes as it extends and retracts. I think it's pretty. I actually want to stay on the bus until Clapham Common so I can get beaten to death by homophobes.

I've already mentioned Tuesday. No need to revisit.

Wednesday was fairly normal for me, except for the fact that I've suddenly become popular. The vacancy on my couch left by The Swede was soon replaced by a more locally based friend of mine. And there was the fact that a supermarket shelf stacker had the audacity to correct my pronounciation when I asked him for "bu--er." It's not my fault I was brought up in Essex and got lumped with the accent so don't pronounce my "T's".

On Thursday I gigged in the evening. It was actually a really nice comedy club, though my sofa-dwelling friend disagrees as she was the one tasked with carrying my wheelchair up and down the stairs, and became fairly convinced that this was how she was going to die. She didn't, thankfully, and was still alive to bring me a cup of tea on Friday morning before she set off for work at around about the time I was thinking about getting up to go to work. Tea in the mornings is good. Tea in the morning that you didn't have to make yourself is even better.

The audience were quite friendly. After the show one woman came up to me and told me how funny I was. "I really respect people who can do stand-up. I'd love to, but I don't have the nerve."

I wanted to say "And I really respect women with Scottish accents." But, I didn't. Because I'm shy. Or, something.

Though, some people were a little too friendly. I had one woman telling me for about 5 minutes how inspirational I am. Yup, inspirational, that's me. If only I could inspire myself to get out of bed on days when I don't have to go to work.

Then I got the ultimate: "It's such a shame. If there is a God, well, there can't be because you're such a nice person, you don't deserve to be in a wheelchair, it's just not fair!"

I did proceed to point and laugh at him at this point. He still seemed to think I was nice.

And then on Friday I saw someone I haven't seen for years.

As I was getting ready for work that morning, I randomly found myself reminiscing about the Red Nose Day when I was doing my Film Studies A Level.

I walked into the class, late, as usual. I sat down and immediately said "As it's Red Nose Day, I think that instead of watching whatever boring film our teacher has got planned for us, we should go to Blockbuster, rent a decent movie, buy loads of popcorn and coke, etc, and all pay £1 to Comic Relief for the privilidge."

Our teacher gave me, and the whole class (all 6 of us) an almighty lecture about how our exams were coming up and we didn't have time to piss about, blah, blah. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a fiver, handed it to me and said "Go on then, go to Blockbuster."

Me and three friends bundled into my car and set off to Blockbuster where we stayed for about half an hour trying to decide what to get. By this point I was feeling slightly guilty, not just for being my usual disruptive self, but also for the fact that we'd had to leave two classmates behind to watch something dull. In the end we settled on The Big Lebowski, went back to college and watched it. And raised £13 for Comic Relief!

I don't know why I was remembering this on Friday morning, but I was. Imagine my shock as I pushed past Kings Cross station, only to spot my A level Film Studies teacher. He was down in London for a Film Studies conference. How very bizarre. He laughed when I told him that I now do stand-up. I wonder why...

Then, in the evening, I had Sharleen Spiteri mocking the volume at which I can cheer. It started off as "Bloody hell! Even I couldn't hold that!" but then progressed as the evening went on.

Though, I did acquire this:

If you can't read the black writing across a picture of a black top, it reads "To the lady with a louder voice than me."


Well, that's another one to add the fact that Mel & Sue always refer to me as "The Hyena" because of my laugh.

I often wonder if my voice is a blessing or a curse.

11 October 2005

This evening I had a very attractive lady Off The Telly ask me:

"Was it good for you?"

But, she was enquiring if I had enjoyed her stand-up set. Dammit.

09 October 2005

This is just a courtesy post to let you know I'm still alive.

I've been remarkably busy, yet, I don't have anything to say. Not that I ever do, of course. But, usually I manage to use a lot of words to say not much.

Until I do have something to say, or at least I can think of big words to convey nothing, enjoy some photos I took at a Texas concert in Birmingham on Thursday... here.

I'm well aware that a lot of them are shite.

I've turned on Word Verification on my blog. I didn't mind the spammers until Friday morning. They had made me feel like at least someone was out there reading my wifflings, and spam comments always start so flatteringly telling me how wonderful my blog is, before encouraging me to visit their penis enlargement site. But, on Friday morning, I switched on my computer (having not been online for over 24 hours *gasp*) and I had 80 Emails from spam blog comments. That's far too much spam for my liking. I am a vegetarian, don't you know.

Spam is morally wrong.

I just had to post that to wind up one particular person who probably isn't still reading my blog anyway. I feel smug knowing I've posted it so, ner.

If you have any problems with the word verification (e.g. if you use a screen reader) let me know (by Email might be the easiest means if you're having problems with commenting in the first place), and I'll turn it off.