Holidays...

I booked my flights today. I'm off to sunny Toronto in September for 10 days. I say Toronto but I really mean Mississauga. I just say Toronto because no one has heard of Mississauga. Have you? Well? I 'grew up' in Mississauga. It was fucking horrible. Very bland...

I've not posted in a while. So here you are, freaks...

The last few days in Oxford have been exhausting. I've been spending far too much time rowing and in the gym and not enough time doing other stuff.

Rowing: I had an outing yesterday morning at 7am. Days like that make rowing worthwhile. Temperature wise; it was pleasant, the sun was shining, the river was sun-dappled, there was a light (lite?) breeze. All combine to make a good outing. And, AND, we were rowing in an 8 which is much more fun. Yesterday's outing focused on technical stuff.

This evening, I have a session in the Tank. Our coach is bringing a camera so he can record us. Fucking pervert. I know what I'd be using that tape for if I was filming an attractive crew...sadly, he'll be filming my crew.

Anyway, speaking of the coach, I saw him at my local Co-op a few days ago. I don't like speaking to him at the best of times. He's only able to talk about rowing and when I'm not in a boat or wearing lycra, I'm just not interested. Seeing him in the shop, I thought, "shit...now what?" I had to walk past him to get to the aisle I wanted (the egg aisle, if you must know. I LOVE eggs). I made sure it was obvious I was wearing headphones by holding my head at an angle, mumbled 'hullo' and hurried past. I spent the next 10 minutes playing 'dodge the coach' whilst clutching my eggs nervously. He's a persistent bastard, that one. He FINALLY gave up and I lingered a bit longer in the shop in case he was lurking outside.

Anyway, short story, long...when I saw him the next day, he said 'I was going to ask you if you wanted to come do some chin-ups with me in the playgroung behind the Co-op but I couldn't find you'. I just looked at him.

He wanted to know if I wanted to do some fucking chin-ups in a fucking playground?! How would that have looked? A pair of grown men lurking in a playground full of young children...can you say 'paedophile'? Can you? Fucking freak.



Currently listening to: You Cut Her Hair by Tom McRae.

Had lunch at Georgina's again, yesterday. I'm becoming addicted.
Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter, Quiche Platter.

There are ALWAYS fit people in there, too. Not yesterday though. I was flaccid the whole time. Not even the sun-dried tomato quiche and amazing Greek salad got my juices flowing. Damn.

Why is it so expensive to fly short distances? Eli, Sam and I want to go to Barcelona in September for a few days but the flights cost almost as much as my return flight to Toronto. I mean...what the fuck?!

I've never been to Spain and there are large swathes of the country I wouldn't go to (too chavy) (to which I wouldn't go, Hot Bescher) but Barcelona should be fine. The food, the wine, the architecture...I'm very excited. I'll probably pickle myself with Sangria and Calimocho (red wine and Coke. Sounds rank but is DELICIOUS).

A while ago, I mentioned the non-flusher at work. For those of you not in the know, someone in my office has a daily dump at work but doesn't flush. That in itself isn't terribly alarming (see my post about beetroot/housemate) but, there is never any toilet paper in the toilet-bowl. Never. Just a lonesome turd. Someone is walking around with a very shitty arse. Anyway, Evil bosslady and Busybody are away this week and the turds have disappeared. Aha! I thought, one of them is the phantom non-flusher. No joy though; there was a fuck-off HUGE turd in the bowl today. The mystery deepens.

I find it very difficult to live within my means. Is this normal? I hope so...

Still no takers for my offer to accompany me to a colonic irrigation session. Fuckers. You're missing out.

Now listening to: Discractions by Zero 7.

Now that I'm going home (well, my parents' home) next month, I'll be able to buy a laptop there. So much cheaper than in the UK. No swish Apple shop, though.

This whole linking lark is great fun.

Currently wearing: my beloved flip-flops, jeans, a lovely blue and white checked shirt and a maniacal expression.

Chin-ups indeed.


A lot has been happening in the world:

-My porn-related injury is healing nicely.
-My 'friend' no longer needs/wants to tell the guy he really fancies that he
fancies him, as he no longer does. It's weird the way feelings change like that.
One day you like someone romantically and the next day, you don't.
-I'm experimenting with facial hair.

That's all, really.

Barnaby is going to be away from Oxford for a while. I'll miss him.

Now listening to: Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds