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Here’s Andy:

He played:

• The Evening Sun
• This Town
• Long, Long Road
• Crystal Sparkles
• ‘Round the Bend
• My Train
• I’ll Be Your Mirror
• Coming Down the Mountain

Some of which will be on a five-track EP that Andy’s starting to record this week with Guy Randall, the same guy who recorded Andy’s dad’s album.

Here’s Joshua:

And here’s a chicken. (There was an assortment of taxidermified beasts at the show, funnily enough):

I’m aware that that’s the second Lostprophets song title I’ve substituted as a post title. I’ve been unearthing my most horrible music collections while trying to get healthy by running in circles at the BYU indoor track.

Well. Long story short, we’ll be moving to NY this September for my Master’s as opposed to London. I’m gutted about not going home and graduating debt free, but the advantages to staying in the US actually outweighed those things (just).

So now we’ve made the decision, I guess I need to tell my bosses I’m quitting in a month. I wish I’d been able to give them more time, but since we only just made a concrete decision, I’ve been unable to. I have no idea how to tell my bosses I’m quitting since there’s three of them. It’s also the first job I’ve had in years that I’ve actually enjoyed, and the first company I’ve ever worked for that I’ll actually miss, since I like the way they do business and all that. I’m nervous about shedding job security for this move to be honest. I’m also pleased I’ll be able to free up an amazing job for someone else searching in this bleak market. I haven’t really figured out how to tell my bosses that I’m quitting yet. Maybe I’ll serve them some my four week notice. Har har har.

Joshua: i wish i were a japanese 5 year old. i would be adorable.

Joshua: haha.
if i were a japanese baby i would just hug myself all the time

I got some new white-out tape stuff today.

I swear, there are 300 office minutes in every office hour.

Some people at work have been giving me props for coming in 339th out of the 339 participants Nu Skin had in their March Madness competition. I think I should get a scooter for getting last place, just like the first place winner did, I mean, statistically speaking I was just as bang-on as the winner, only inversely so.

Good Timing:

Andy put his palm through the kitchen window (in all it’s 1928 original glory) minutesafter some house-hunters inspected our house.

Bad Timing:

Late in the evening, which is when most bad decisions are made, I dyed my hair coppery-mousey brown but only one inch of my roots took the colour (so my natural hair colour now looks like a dye job gone wrong and the dye job looks like my natural colour) and then this morning at work, someone took a photo of me for some brochure. Fantastic. If I had Courtney T’s hair, this would never have happened because she has ideal hair.

When I was at uni, I had a weekly lecture on a Thursday night that ran from 6:30-10:30pm. Everyone knows that Thursday night is practically the weekend so I was always antsy and had a hard time paying attention. The teacher was smart/mean and did quizzes at random points in the class that constituted 35% of your grade, so I had to stick the class out, week after week. To make it bearable, I would draw as many chairs/people/fonts/dogs/tables as I could imagine. I drew a couple of chairs today.

The scan of the drawing isn’t very good, but that’s ok, because the drawing isn’t very good either. Maybe I will get better.

I was going to post the lyrics to “Stressed Out” by A Tribe Called Quest, but I didn’t want to offend anyone. So I thought I’d post Google Image’s idea of “stressed out”. Arguably just as offensive as profanity. Arguably.

Don’t front; you love it.

I always feel a tad pessimistic on Monday mornings. I’ve been known to hum “Weekends” by The Perishers in the shower because my Monday melodrama feels like the lyrics are just so relevant. What a joke. I don’t have to take a bus or tube to get to my office, I have lots of activities other than television to keep my nights busy, and at least I have a job to complain about. And seriously, as much as office work itself isn’t exactly a joy, my particular office, bosses, and company, are incomparably brilliant.

Melodrama aside, Monday mornings do actually leave a bit of an awkward taste in my mouth. The initial elevator ride requires one to complete all permutation combinations of “how was your weekend?” with co-elevatorants, but not knowing them well enough to ask what they did means the conversation kind of goes like this:
‘Did you have a nice weekend?’
‘I did thanks, and yourself?’
‘Great, thanks’
You repeat this until all elevator riders have accounted for their weekends.
At this point I usually check my phone/look at the elevator buttons until I get to my floor.

Then, when I get to my desk, I spend twenty minutes staring blankly at my computer trying to retrace the work-related train of thought I abandoned halfway to the station the previous Friday in my hasty bid for weekend freedoms. Then when I do remember what I was doing, I have to fight the procrastinationy desire to pore through online news articles and do some work.
(I read this article this morning).

Usually, after I drop Andy at the Cadaver Labs early in the morning, I eat breakfast and read for a bit before work, but because I felt especially tired this morning, I hopped back into bed for an extra hour kip instead. I forgot to reset my alarm though, so I awoke at 8:37am (37 minutes late for work), freaked out, dashed out of the house pulling items of clothing on and somehow made it to my desk by 8:46am. Magic.
I usually wake up and feel wide awake, but this morning (after a week of sleepless nights) I felt like a slug. So I was surprised when I took a kind of spatial orientation test online and did alright. I found the test on Andy’s cousin’s wife’s (dog’s groomer’s postman’s) blog. I got a 2.70 first time around, which might not sound that good, but it made the top scores board. I thought I better print-screen so you’d believe me.