armyofsnails: (time snail)
I shall precede this brief observation with a wonderful and poignant video I have come across recently.



I realise I'm probably doing little to dispel the myth of the Effortless Architect by this story, but it's too amusing not to share.

This morning, my boss J is talking to one of the project leaders about a new masterplan for a site in central London. She is gesticulating at several new buildings on the site plan that are oblong in shape.

J: So this is your sausage, right. These are your sausages.
Project leader: Um.
J (points at one of the buildings): There is a problem with this particular sausage. It doesn't make sense. I think it should be over there.
Project leader: Well, I thought it could be here because...
J: You must understand the sausage first. I'm not sure you do at the moment.
Project leader: Yeah, working on it, but...
J: You must understand the nature of the sausage.
Project leader: Um.

I chuckle at this, as I hear the cackling sound of laughter all around the office. A few moments later, my e-mail client flashes with a new message. It's from a chap called Ken who is sitting a couple of desks away from me. The e-mail has only the following image... )
armyofsnails: (fear me)
A may not be the next T S Eliot but I find his bursts of creativity immensely amusing and very relevant.

[02/05/2013 22:38:12] A: I going to write you some bad poetry here, please check back from tie to time to see what awful chleckt I've come up with next:
Read more... )

He did actually record a T S Eliot poem once, The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock (it's A's voice in the recording; apparently this is attempt no. 20). The obsession started when S told me that the name of our favourite London coffee house, Prufrock, may have been inspired by the poem of the same name. A ended up reading and re-reading it, then finding an online recording of it by T S Eliot himself, hating the recording and doing his own version. Objectively, A's version is much, much better.
armyofsnails: (time snail)
Drawn by my LJ friend [livejournal.com profile] edgecondition, translates as,

"Did you see that scene yesterday?"
"A-ha! Women at the construction site!!!"


Clicky for image )
armyofsnails: (Japanese)
I feel like I should start apologising for my Prozac-like posts of late... Or maybe not. Deal with it. :P

I wrote this in response to an e-mail from my boyfriend the other day. Nothing particularly ground-breaking in it, but it does structure my thoughts on the subject a little, so here it is for what it's worth.... )
armyofsnails: (snail boob)
A's excuse for only having had three hours of sleep the previous night: "I was baking brownies of several different levels of density, then playing harmonica for three hours practising a song for my niece's birthday." He was going to give me a demonstration too, but I told him to go to bed. I woke up the following morning to a tray of brownies cut into squares and arranged into a giant Space Invader shape.

This is the man who walks into his office dressed in a Stitch kigu suit just because he feels like it (he works in a software development company). Honestly, these days I'm beginning to forget what normal means... Hahaha...  
armyofsnails: (Simpsons)
So on the back of my birthday A. and I decided to do the drag act again for Valentine's. The idea was to pick an incredibly posh restaurant - one that has a dress code and at least three waiters per customer - and test their acceptance boundaries a little. A. suggested Fortnum & Mason's The Fountain. I managed to get a reservation there for the 14th.

Read more... )
armyofsnails: (Simpsons)
First day on new project - a new build academy in the East of England. The principal has somehow managed to get hold of 3 tons of original oak and copper from Lord Nelson's HMS Victory and wants to use it as part of the building. My colleague suggests street furniture, I suggest a feature wall (in the style of Sandy Wilson's King's Library at the BL). We have no idea what condition the ship remnants are in. Have arranged to visit the warehouse of some chap called J Body where the stuff is supposed to be lying around.

No money for it in the budget though, so I say, how about an office outing with 70 architects moulding copper and chopping wood, taking beer as payment??

Apparently the academy principal often wanders into meetings, talks about how she knows a relative of Ian Fleming and wanders out again. We were semi-seriously discussing naming the departments in the new building after James Bond novels. "Goldfinger" Design & Technology wing, "Pussy Galore" Hair & Beauty salon, etc.
armyofsnails: (fear me)
A few text messages describing my adventures in the land of academy design yesterday.

Moss: Arguing with client at the moment who wants hideous maple finish to teacher wall furniture. 1970s all over again!!

A: Tell them they can have it on condition that the boys wear spandex, the girls rayon, and absolutely everybody wears maple finished 4" platforms!

Moss: Lost that battle... Must get T Rex and Ziggy Stardust records to go with that sleek maple spandex look...

A: Hmmm! Maple Spandex - nice!

Update: And then we get this from the site manager... )
armyofsnails: (Default)
...unkind and stereotypical... and PROUD OF IT.



Discussion in the office the other day. )
armyofsnails: (food snail)
armyofsnails: (snail boob)
I was planning to do an update on the Eden Project trip, but instead I'm going to write about hedgehog penises.

The tiny Cornish village we stayed in consisted of approximately five residents, six B&Bs and seven diving equipment shops. On, and one pub. And rain. Lots and lots of rain.

So, whilst we were escaping the weather in the B&B room with a murky view of the sea, [livejournal.com profile] romanthefirst, [livejournal.com profile] kostriko and I entertained ourselves with wine, Youtube and discussions about the size of hedgehog penises )
armyofsnails: (snail boob)
I am taking preventative anti-malarial pills in anticipation of a visit abroad. One of the known side effects is vivid dreams. Well, I think the second week in they have begun. Last night, I dreamt that I was a midwife to several animals, namely a hamster, a pig, a cat and a sea lion. The latter was "cherry coloured" and produced five babies, all of them smaller than my thumb and also cherry coloured. I nearly stepped on one of them by accident. I was worried that the various mothers would eat their young if I didn't feed them enough. Especially the hamster, she looked evil.

And the night before that I dreamt that I was climbing huge pine trees in search of pine nuts. I got three pine cones from the first tree and four from the second one, but it started to sway back and forth under my weight and woke me up.

Met up with an ex-coursemate of mine from Cambridge last Sunday. Lost touch for almost nine years, found each other on Facebook, the usual. Only Christ, I forgot just how strange this guy is. He talks with such conviction that it's impossible to tell whether he's tongue-in-cheek or not; I know him well enough to guess that quite often he is actually serious. Read more... )
armyofsnails: (Simpsons)
An amusing random Thursday night. With friend S at a friend's comedy gig near Vauxhall. We arrive early and are told to wait downstairs until "the place is a bit more full", but half an hour later we remain the only two people in the audience, versus two presenters - my friend being one of them - and four comedians!

So the first thing we know, the obligatory "engage with the audience" thing happens. The presenter asks S to describe her day. She goes, "I pootled around the house naked, read the Daily Mail and bought two kilogams of frozen octopi" (on the scale of weirdness this is quite low for her, by the way). This amazes all the four performers so much that they just can't leave her alone. So every one of them starts and ends their stand-up with clumsy jokes about either the Daily Mail or the goddamned octopi (which are happily unfreezing in a bowl of cold water).

Despite the high cephalopod content, two out of four acts were actually very good; one chap was talking about becoming a father at 17 (poignant but funny), and one fat half-Korean, half-Swedish guy delivered a monologue about pissing himself and spotted that I had a "funny face", meaning I was also mixed race. He didn't spot S's mixed race background though. I didn't elaborate on mine, because explaining why I look the way I do would have taken longer than the whole duration of his performance.

We forgot to pay the £2 entry fee, but when the performance ended and I offered the money to the friend, he refused and bought me a drink instead. Score.

Somewhat jittery today due to coffee and a looming deadline... Nothing to do with all the wine I drank last night, I swear...
armyofsnails: (mosshood)
armyofsnails: (PVC)
Visiting my friend S and her fiance's new flat. "So, this is our kitchen. Did you say you wanted some coffee? Here we go, top drawer, this is where we keep our coffee and sugar, as well as our anal lube, condom dispenser, remote controlled G-spot stimulator and a selection of cock rings..."
armyofsnails: (snail boob)
"I love doing laundry. It's one of my guilty pleasures. I really hope my laundry gets totally dry. I hate moisture."

HAHAHAHA

armyofsnails: (time snail)
Soon after my birthday in early February I saw a ladybird at the bottom of the west stairwell of our three storey office building.

The next day I spot two specimens - a shiny little blood red droplet and a deep amber one.

A week later they are all over the stairwell - some alive and crawling about, and a good few accidentally flattened into tiny red or orange pancakes by my less careful colleagues.

Another week passes and most of the live Coccinellidae crawl away, leaving behind a trail of their dead brethren.

Yesterday cleaners came with big, big hoovers and vacuumed up the remainder.

THE END.
armyofsnails: (man replacer)
G is ironing my trousers. As he slowly makes his way up the trouser leg a look of confusion sets in.

"Wow, this is... complicated."
"What is?"
"All these..." He waves the iron in the air a bit.
"You mean curves?"
"Yes."
"Haven't you ironed women's clothes before?"
"Um, no."
"Well, they tend to be... you know, curvy."
"Excuse me! My clothes are curvy too."
"Not compared to mine they're not."
"My waist is only an inch wider than yours. Try wearing my trousers."
"Pfft, sure."

So I put his trousers on for a laugh, and even though they are tight on the hips they make me look like I've climbed into a potato sack.

"Told you so! Wait until you get to my shirt."

He duly obliges and gets even more perplexed.

"How the hell am I supposed to iron that??" pointing at the bust area and giggling like a schoolgirl.
"You just... erm... push the sharp end in and work in circles in a smooth round motion..."

I hasten to add that despite these difficulties the end result of the ironing was quite impressive.

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