Time after time...
The weeks seem to fly by. Sadly, the weekends fly by even faster.
On Monday, I did something, I just can't remember what.
On Tuesday, I went to a slam-poetry reading thing at QI Bar. It was very preachy and wet. Poems about the awfulness of war, crime and poverty and poems about love are deeply boring. I resent being told I should feel guilty about the war, crime and poverty (not my fault. Really.) and I resent being forced to listen to teen love angst. Please, just fu ck off. I went with Annie who attracts strange men. This time it was Alessandro the hairdresser, his attractive fellow Italian mate and some common girl from Wheatley. Alessandro keeps trying to get me to come in for a haircut. "I charge you only £27.50". He can shove his scissors up his ass for nothing and fu ck off whilst doing it. I cut my own hair on Sunday and I'm very pleased. A pair of scissors (I used the ones I use to trim my nasal hair), clippers and a mirror are all you need. I'm sure it looks better now than it would have done had I shelled out £27.50. £27.50 is a lot of Happy Hour cocktails, I don't mind telling you...
On Wednesday, I went to a conference in Reading. I had an argument with some bint about institutional racism. I said it didn't exist and she said it did. Apparently, her husband applied for a job and didn't get it and it must be because he is black, innit? Fu cking bitch. She then went on about how racist Oxford is and how 'they' like to keep 'non-whites' out. Fu cking bitch. Anyway, upon my return to Oxford, I went to the gym, had dinner at Magdalen with Max, Sophia (who gets more neurotic by the day), and James.
On Thursday I had lunch at Magdalen with Big Straight Phil's less straight brother. It was better for him than for me. Apparently, he's missing a toenail. Not good. Especially if you have a foot-fetish like I do. Do I have a foot-fetish? Maybe, maybe...That evening, I went to a photographic exhibit at a small gallery in Oxford. There was a series of photographs of people who work in the retail park in Botley Road. It was very depressing and made me grateful I stayed in school. School's cool. Yeah. Now you say it...
Met some students from the Ruskin School of Fine Art and chatted to them about art. It was interesting and not even remotely pretentious. And you KNOW how pretentious arty students can be. As I was leaving, some chav asked me what I thought of the photographs. He was from Ruskin as well and was very pleasant in a chav kind of way. Anyway, turns out he had an inch wide marble up his ass and wanted to know if I had any idea how to remove it. I suggested laxatives and he said that's what the nice woman on the NHS Direct Helpline suggested. We had a drink and it was interesting. Very interesting (email me for details).
This evening, Max, Sophia, James, Paul, Kammy, Alex and maybe Chris are coming around for drinks and trash television. Off to London tomorrow evening for a night of strutting my stuff at Wig Out.
I've taken up running on a treadmill. I think it's working.
I've also had Nancy Boy by Placebo on repeat all day. I think I might be a Nancy Boy but I'm not sure.
On Monday, I did something, I just can't remember what.
On Tuesday, I went to a slam-poetry reading thing at QI Bar. It was very preachy and wet. Poems about the awfulness of war, crime and poverty and poems about love are deeply boring. I resent being told I should feel guilty about the war, crime and poverty (not my fault. Really.) and I resent being forced to listen to teen love angst. Please, just fu ck off. I went with Annie who attracts strange men. This time it was Alessandro the hairdresser, his attractive fellow Italian mate and some common girl from Wheatley. Alessandro keeps trying to get me to come in for a haircut. "I charge you only £27.50". He can shove his scissors up his ass for nothing and fu ck off whilst doing it. I cut my own hair on Sunday and I'm very pleased. A pair of scissors (I used the ones I use to trim my nasal hair), clippers and a mirror are all you need. I'm sure it looks better now than it would have done had I shelled out £27.50. £27.50 is a lot of Happy Hour cocktails, I don't mind telling you...
On Wednesday, I went to a conference in Reading. I had an argument with some bint about institutional racism. I said it didn't exist and she said it did. Apparently, her husband applied for a job and didn't get it and it must be because he is black, innit? Fu cking bitch. She then went on about how racist Oxford is and how 'they' like to keep 'non-whites' out. Fu cking bitch. Anyway, upon my return to Oxford, I went to the gym, had dinner at Magdalen with Max, Sophia (who gets more neurotic by the day), and James.
On Thursday I had lunch at Magdalen with Big Straight Phil's less straight brother. It was better for him than for me. Apparently, he's missing a toenail. Not good. Especially if you have a foot-fetish like I do. Do I have a foot-fetish? Maybe, maybe...That evening, I went to a photographic exhibit at a small gallery in Oxford. There was a series of photographs of people who work in the retail park in Botley Road. It was very depressing and made me grateful I stayed in school. School's cool. Yeah. Now you say it...
Met some students from the Ruskin School of Fine Art and chatted to them about art. It was interesting and not even remotely pretentious. And you KNOW how pretentious arty students can be. As I was leaving, some chav asked me what I thought of the photographs. He was from Ruskin as well and was very pleasant in a chav kind of way. Anyway, turns out he had an inch wide marble up his ass and wanted to know if I had any idea how to remove it. I suggested laxatives and he said that's what the nice woman on the NHS Direct Helpline suggested. We had a drink and it was interesting. Very interesting (email me for details).
This evening, Max, Sophia, James, Paul, Kammy, Alex and maybe Chris are coming around for drinks and trash television. Off to London tomorrow evening for a night of strutting my stuff at Wig Out.
I've taken up running on a treadmill. I think it's working.
I've also had Nancy Boy by Placebo on repeat all day. I think I might be a Nancy Boy but I'm not sure.
posted by OrlandoCatastrophic at Friday, March 24, 2006
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