It's too fucking hot...

to do anything apart from watch bad American porn. I'm slightly obsessed with pornography. Not so much in magazines but on DVD. It's the sounds I like almost as much as the images. Muscley American jocks grunting and moaning 'fuck yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck me hard, yeah, fuck me, yeah, harder, yeah...'.

I mean, how HOT is that?

I think I might explore the possibility of becoming a script writer for porn films. I've never done it before but surely anything I come up with will be better than the stuff currently out there, no?

Currently listening to: Best Bit by Beth Orton.

Thank fuck for flip-flops.

The weekend was unbearably hot. Friday involved lots of cocktails, eating, a lame party, more drinking, getting stopped by the police for drinking in the street- swigging from a bottle of wine in Cornmarket is illegal?! Hullo?! It was good wine, too. Cornmarket is full of pikey, thieving chavs, who, whilst not TECHNICALLY doing anything against the law are offensive by their mere presence. And chav females? Sluts. Every single pram-faced one of them. Every fucking Gemma, Kylie, Brittney, Sharon...etc...Do the police hassle them? No! They hassle law-abiding, responsible, respectable pillars of the community like me. Bastards.

Now listening to Common People by Pulp.

Still wanting to lick my flip-flops to show them how much I appreciate them. But resisting.

Anyway, Saturday: felt like shit and caught the sun. Factor 15? Factor nothing! Lazed in various College gardens with Hot Bescher (who, incidentally is leaving me (they always leave me. Why do they always leave me?) at the end of the month. Bastard.

Sunday: had a mate from my Cambridge days visiting for the day. Tedious! Was good to see him but it was far too hot to be social. Far too hot to make polite chit-chat. Certainly far too hot to do tourist shit in Oxford.

Rang my dad to say he's the BEST DAD IN THE WORLD!!! I felt the lie was justified.

This week sees me working my lovely ass off. Again.

Wednesday is Encaenia (look it up, plebs) and Piers Gaveston. Should be good.

Now listening to: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

Who's in Oxford over the summer? Be my daddy.

Things in the office are a bit tense. I love the drama. I feed off of it. As long as it doesn't involve me. The woman next to me had a breakdown or something. She works part time and can't cope with that, combined with looking after her children. Lazy bitch. Most women don't have the benefit of a nanny, flexible working, free tea and coffee at work and a fruit table. What's her fucking problem?! Get over yourself, bitch.

The Administrator/secretary person who handed in her notice last month walked out 2 days before she was supposed to. She went to lunch and didn't come back and has left a mountain of invoices unpaid, loads of filing un-, erm, filed, and generally dropped everyone in the shit. Fucking bitch. Not me though. Oh no...I made sure she did my filing as soon as I gave it to her. I jolly well kept her nose to the grindstone.

It's great fun, really it is. People get so stressed here, though. It's fun to watch. I'm such a voyeur.

Now listening to Gabriel by Lamb.

Oh dear flip-flops, how I love you so...you are more dear to me than life itself....beautiful, fragrant flip-flops, how do I love thee...let me count the ways...


Foot fetishist. Pervy bastard.

Lunch time. Back later...