The Tank

Yesterday, we rowed in the tank at the University Sports Centre. It was a good session- we focused on technique (hand heights, catches, slowing the slide down etc...). Our coach was mind-bogglingly repellant. He was enormously corpulent and looked like he'd never been near a boat, let alone in one. He turned out to be a pretty good coach though, much better than our regular one (who's a twat). Just goes to show; those who can't, teach.

The tank has mirrors around it so you can watch yourself and the rest of the crew. This would be a bonus if my crew was even marginally attractive. Instead, I was transfixed by the amount of perspiration pouring out of them. I've never seen such over-active sweat glands. Fortunately, the smell of chlorine was strong enough to mask the stench, otherwise, I'd have been retching all over the place. The crew, apart from 1 person (fucking German), is comprised of pleasant, if slightly dull people. Also known as 'scientists'. Still, you can't have everything.

Currently listening to: Supergirl by Reamon. I listen to the song daily. Just fucking deal with it.

Currently wearing: damp clothes. Fucking weather.

Hot Bescher's parting shot as he left Oxford was that I abuse the English language by swearing too much in my blog. He's American. He's fucking American. I ask you...talk about the blind leading the blind.

The weekend consisted of a sojourn to London. Tedious. Some enormous concert was happening in Hyde Park and the gays were having their Pride parade thing. Anyway, the traffic was horrific. I was tripping over do-gooders and gays. Went to the Tate Modern. It was pleasant. A gayer place you'd be hard pressed to find.

Gym after work. I'm on a mission to have BULGING muscles like Marketmosley.

Mosley oh mosley
where are you, my muscular
medical Mosley?

Aren't haikus wonderful?

Now listening to: Twist in my Sobriety by Tanita Tikaram. Anyone remember her?

Now, serious question:

Suppose you have a friend you fancy but you're pretty sure he/she doesn't fancy you. He/she has had plenty of opportunity to make it known that they fancy you but no such information has been forthcoming. What do you do? Do you tell your friend you fancy them and risk the friendship being strained afterwords? Do you say nothing at all? Do you get them drunk and make a move on them?

Please tell me. I, erm, have a friend who wants to know...

Now listening to: Be Still My Heart by Silje Nergaard

Clearly my readers in Washington DC have forgotten that I want to move there for a little while (6 months?). A job...give me a fecking job out there...I'm super-qualified to do loads of shit, I have more letters after my name than I know what to do with... just give me a fecking job.

I'm not really qualified to do anything. I studied Renaissance Literature for fuck sake.

The Big Brother housemates are gormless cretins. Yet, I watch avidly.



Home time.