You shall go to the Ball...

I wish I'd saved my £120 and stayed home watching porn.

The Ball was good but not great. For that price, you'd have gotten something wwwaaaayyy better in Cambridge. Plastic champagne glasses?! I mean, what is the point? We might as well have knocked back Styrofoam cups of the stuff.
Went to the Ball with Sophia on one arm and James up my ass. Not really, but it felt like it. That Sophia has a really tight grip.
The food was crap and ran out quickly, there WAS lots of booze though but nowhere to sit and you know a Ball isn't very good when the bumper cars (dodgems?) and the fireworks are the highlight of the night. The musical act was Pharrell Williams who was surprisingly well mannered and polite. You know, given that he's, erm, you know...
There was also some band whose name I can't remember and they were good too. Really fucking hot...

Anyway, survivors' photo was at 6am, staggered home with my Molton Brown goodie bag and collapsed in a heap, looking resplendent but spent.

Met up with Mirek that evening for a stroll and a snooze beneath at tree in New College and made plans to meet up the following day which we did. Mirek is Czech but not pale and skinny at all. No, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. He proved this twice on Sunday evening and once on Monday morning. I could barely walk by Monday afternoon. Not really!

It was more like Monday evening that I was walking normally again. My jaw still aches though.

On Monday it rained and rain means it must be the annual Central Admin Garden Party in Somerville College (by kind permission of the Principal and Fellows). I lasted for all of 10 minutes. The 'party' was in a marquee which was too small so some people had to go to a room in another quad. There were strawberries, elderflower cordial, juice and fake champagne. We had to wear name badges (probably as the Clerical/Ancillary staff can't be trusted to behave properly and would probably drink until they passed out and would need to be identified and, let's face it, one chav in a drunken stupor looks like the next chav in a drunken stupor). I was approached by many people saying "thank you for your email, it was very informative" or "thank you for being so helpful in the matter of xyz...". In reply, I had to say "so, you're the stupid bint who can't do her job and needs me to do it for her" or "isn't that top rather low-cut for work?".
The only consolation is that people had to stand outside the marquee to smoke and they got terribly wet and there is nothing like a soaking wet common person wearing polyester to brighten my day.

After my 10 minutes at the 'party' I legged it to Magdalen to have dinner with Sophia, Barnaby and Alexandra. Alex and I had a drink at the King's Arms afterwards where we were joined by Marik and his Czech mate (see what I did there?). Alex was well up for a threesome with me and Marik but I couldn't do it. Looking into Alex's face as I brought her to orgasm would have been weird. Despite what she says. Yuck.

Currently listening to: Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin

:-(
Alexandra has gone to Geneva for 3 weeks. That sucks, man.
Big Straight Phil has gone to the Netherlands for 1 week. That sucks, man.
Big Straight Phil's less straight little brother ('Dave', we call him) is going to Japan to train as a Geisha. That sucks, man.

BUT,

:-)
Hot Bescher will be in London this weekend! And that is wonderful.
I'm going to Prague with Hot Bescher! And that is wonderful.
I'm going to Geneva to visit Alexandra! And that is wonderful.

I love Prague and have never been to Geneva so I'm very excited. Hopefully, we'll meet up with Matt who's been in Prague for 18 months or so teaching English. I say 'English' but he's from Wrexham so it might be more accurate to say that he is teaching some approximation of English. There are some things not even a Cambridge education can cure you of and I'm afraid being from Wrexham is one such affliction.

I had the most tedious lunch today. I was on my way to Magdalen as usual when I bumped into Mark T from Keble College, Oxford. I asked if he wanted to come to lunch too. I owed him a meal as he took me and Johnny to Formal Hall 2 years ago. I'd not seen him very much since. Probably because he described me and Johnny (not 'Johnny and I', you Americans) as being Cowardesque. As in Noel Coward not lacking in courage. Also, he smells perpetually of damp. Anyway, he's always down on Oxford saying how elitist this is or that is or how silly it is to wear gowns or how black tie events are outdated. I mean, what a cock. What an utter cock.

Now listening to Oh Mandy by The Spinto Band.

Currently wearing: black pointy shoes, black jeans, white shirt, sweat patches under my arms.
As if. You KNOW I don't perspire. Ever.

So long, farewell...

David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley, David Mosley!

Who says I don't mention David Mosley in my blog?

David, you've only been gone a few days but I miss you already.





Currently listening to: Mass in C (Coronation Mass) by Mozart

Defriending...

The weekend started off well. Black tie dinner thing at Green College, Oxford with BSP, Sophia and Oz! The meal was excellent, sadly, the company less so. Whilst the four of us were having a gay ole time chatting and laughing, the people next to us were cocks. A blind man and his 'girlfriend'. I'd met the girlfriend before. Nice but bland. Blindy was just a cock. So fucking conceited and critical of everything. Shocking. I'd hate to be like that, wouldn't you? I'm glad I can see. Vision, oh vision, how I love you, my wonderful vision. That's not a song Blindy will be singing in a hurry...

After dinner, we were joined by Annie, Mo and Thimon. Mo is very pleathant as are Annie and Thimon. We went to Angels for a drink then back to Green for a boogie. Alex joined us at that point and we had a turn around the dancefloor and then went outside for a fresh of breath air. Alex and I climbed a tree, gave one another piggybacks and generally had a good laugh. BSP is a very thoughtful and solicitous host and I rewarded him by allowing him to mount me. Also, it's amazing the number of breasts I've touched by saying 'don't be alarmed, I'm a homosexual'. It works everytime. Even the boyfriends don't mind.

Most of Saturday was very pleasant. Lunch with Alex, coffee with Bodman who was visiting with Rob on their way to South Africa for 6 months. 6 months?! Better them than me. I made a list of their stuff I wanted should they get murdered there. You know what a lawless place it is. Went to an outdoor concert sung by Magdalen College choir and generally lounged around and chatted to people. Thing went downhill later though. The 'friend' who was visiting (who was vaguely normal last time) texted to say he would be arriving at 7pm. I got home around 18:45 and waited for his imminent arrival. And waited. And waited. Texted him to ask if he was lost. Waited some more then rang. 'Oh, I stopped off to see a friend and stayed longer than I thought'. Not a problem had he let me know, but I would have been waiting for ages wondering what had happened to him if I hadn't got in touch. Rocked up to my house at 20:45 without a word of apology but carrying an enormous basket of smelly laundry and a HUGE black bin liner full of smell kitchen waste. 'what the fuck is that?'. I asked? 'Oh, can I borrow your washing machine? I don't have one and I just do laundry wherever I happen to be staying'. WTF?! Not a good start to his visit, I don't mind telling you.

He then spent the rest of the evening telling me I just had to go to North Oxford with him to see some fucking garden he designed . We went out for drinks and he moaned very loudly about the lack of ice or lemon and the plastic glasses. Sophia and I were like, FFS (for fuck sake) IT'S FREE, just drink it and shut up. Went to the Bridge which was okay and then to bed.
Awoke to him telling me I had to come see his garden and what did I think of a picnic? I thought 'I'm going to dig that fucking garden up and you can stick the picnic up your arse.', but instead I said, I don't like picnics and I still didn't want to see the bloody garden.
Tried to go back to sleep but failed as he kept yammering on about his fucking garden. Finally got up to get a glass of water and have a pee only to discover that he was having a dump whilst reading Men's Health. Now, having a dump and reading Men's Health are two activities I engage in frequently. Infact, often simultaneously, but the difference is that I CLOSE THE DOOR. Not only do I CLOSE THE DOOR but I also don't pebble dash the toilet. I could have forgiven the open-door-defecating and the pebble-dashing but what I can't forgive, either now or indeed, ever, is the fact that he didn't wash his hands after having a dump. I had to follow him around the house discreetly spritzing with Dettol everything he touched. On the plus side, we now have the cleanest door knobs, light switches, television remote control, fridge handle etc...in the whole of Oxford. Still, what a price to pay.

Went to Joe's for brunch with Barnaby where he proceeded to complain that the menu wasn't extensive enough. What a cock. When I suggested punting, he had the audacity to say 'I like to get wasted when I punt, I could stay another night then head back to Henley tomorrow.' No you fucking can't I thought and invented an evening visitor. Finally got the cunt to leave around 5pm. He wants to come back in a couple of weeks but I reckon I'll be busy, don't you?

MCR banquet at Magdalen on Tuesday evening with BSP, Barnaby, Sophia and a few other people I like. And James. Black tie, of course. I seem to spend more time in black tie than out.

I did get some good news on Friday, though: Hot Bescher is coming to London! It'll be magical.

Currently listening to: Wonderful by Adam Ant.
Currently wearing: very little. the air-conditioning in the office is malfunctioning and apparently, a crane is needed to repair it.
Currently looking forward to: a long sweaty session at the gym. AND I'm going to do some exercise.
Currently regretting: not being in Cambridge. It's May Week and May Week is the best time to be in Cambridge.

Things I'm grateful for:
-my health
-my family
-my friends
-having somewhere to live
-having a job
-rohypnol

Compsci or Psycho...

I only scored 5/10...and I'm usually such a good judge of character too...

Had the best night on Wednesday. BSP and I rocked up to Rhodes House for the Henry Birrell Scholarship Trust fund-raising thing. For £15 you get free and unlimited booze and food. The food was no good to me but the booze was quite something. Shots of some South African spirit, wine and lots and lots of beer. LOTS of beer.
The weather was pleasant and both BSP and I felt a stiffening in our pants when we walked in. Almost everyone there was attractive. Tanned, muscled, toned, glowing with health, sparkling white teeth. It was like we'd crashed a Mormon prayer meeting but no...no Mormons in sight. Thankfully.
Most of those attending seemed to be medics and or rugby players/athletes in general. It was thrilling.

After getting more than our £15-worth, we went to Jongleurs which was a bit shit. Headed back towards the King's Arms where we bumped into lots of people we knew. That's the beauty of the King's Arms. You always meet people you know. And they are very attractive usually. This is all making me sound rather shallow, I know. And I suppose I DO rather go on a lot about sex and sex-related things but gosh darn it, I'm just so damn horny all the time. It's unfortunate. Really it is.

Work is really pissing me off at the mo. I used ot really like the job but it's become increasingly boring and I find it very hard to motivate myself to do anything. This boredom manifests itself as insubordination. Do people really get sacked for insubordination? Shall we find out? Shall we? Huh?

Currently listening to: The Boy With The Arab Strap by Belle and Sebastian

This evening, I'm off to a black tie dinner at Green College with BSP, Sophia (who will, no doubt, be bra-less) and Oz!. 'Oz!' is short for 'Osbourne' but he insists on the exclamation mark. If It was anyone else, I would have hit them really hard and belittled them but Oz! is just so nice that I have spared him the sharpness of my tongue.

And old chum is visiting tomorrow and Sunday. Should be good. Might be really shit though.

Now listening to: So Here We Are by Bloc Party. Good song. I listen to it lots of times per day but never tire of it. Still can't make out all the lyrics though.

I do have the drive and ambition. I just don't care.

No problem is so large or so complex that it can't be blamed on someone else. Fact.

Social butterflies...

I have been stung by Max's accusation of infrequent posting. From now on, I will post daily. DAILY, MOFO, daily...


On Friday, Phil and I had a drink at the King's Arms followed by drinks at New College. FREE Drinks at New College. FREE, STRONG drinks at New College. It doesn't get much better than that. The only place in Oxford where the gins and tonic contain wwwaaayyy more gin than tonic. They were almost unpleasantly strong but we knocked them back all the same. We were joined by Alex, Max and Sophia and we bumped into Oz! and Kahleen. After drinks we went to Merton's where cool but slightly chubby bloke from a few weeks ago bought us drinks. After Merton's we walked back to our bikes but were waylaid by a party at the University Church. At the party, Phil and I chatted with Simon. I thought Simon was rather pleasant. Phil thought he was a moron. BSP was jealous. JEALOUS! Anyway, we left the party and I carried Phil on my back, apparently, to our bikes where he assailed a breeder couple and offered to go home with them. They declined. Fuck, I thought, I'm going to have to be Phil's bitch tonight. Fortunately, Henry rang just then asking if I wanted to come over. I screamed 'yes' and off I went.

On Saturday, I had coffee with Glenn and a stroll around the Botanic Gardens. We chose a lovely tree beneath which to sit. We had a good ole chinwag until a bird shat on Glenn's had. The lovely tree had a lovely big nest in it and Glenn ended up with a lovely big turd on his hand. I pissed myself. I rang Barnaby to ask if we could borrow his sink (Barnaby's room overlooks the Gardens) to wash Glenn's shit covered hand.

At 17:15, I made my way to Holywell Manor where 3 shiny coaches were waiting to whisk a bunch of us to Festival Pier in London. New College MCR had organised a cruise up and down the Thames. He had a drink at Festival Hall then boarded the boat at 8. We ate, drank, danced and made merry with New College, Balliol and Magdalen MCRs. It was great fun. I met several interesting people, 2 complete cunts, 1 mythical boyfriend and a partridge in a peartree...
One of those is a lie.

The mythical boyfriend in question being James' man. I say mythical as they can't be seen together on their own, they can't hang out together in case someone sees them, they can't fuck in public...I mean, what is the point? I have a more intimate and physical relationship with the postman than they do with one another.

The cruise was eventful for Sophia as well as she discovered that she is a lesbian. 'Nuff said.

Had a lazy day on Sunday. Tossed a frisbee around with Max, Alex and Elin, went for a walk around the University Parks with Barnaby. Ended up in Parson's Pleasure where dons used to sunbathe in the nude and had formal hall at Lincoln College followed by drinks at the King's Arms.

Currently listening to: Kelly Watch the Stars by Air
Currently regretting not having an umbrella with me.

Sun stroke.

"I wanna see sunshine after the rain, I wanna see blue skies shining...etc, etc... "

Well, the sunshine is here. And sunshine means warm weather. And warm weather means people wearing as little as possible. People wearing as little as possible means me in a perpetually semi-erect state. I am beside myself. I flop around semi-hard all day with no outlet. Anyone looking for a job?

Currently listening to 'Supergirl' by Reamon, which is my Washington DC song.

Not a great deal has been happening since I last posted. I have been eating and drinking rather too much. Not so much eating, but definitely drinking. I have also perfected the art that this the Perfect Manhattan. Canadian Club whiskey, martini, bitters, vermouth, maraschino cherries, ice. Sublime...warms you up in winter, cools you down in summer.

I have also discovered the Apple Pie. An Apple Pie consists of Zubrowka Bison Grass vodka and apple juice. Sounds mundane but has hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. Some Pole plied me with them at a bar and I've been drinking them with reckless abandon ever since.

Weird coincidence: Last week, Barnaby was invited to tea with the President of Magdalen College. The invitation stated' smart casual'. This gave rise to a discussion about what constitutes 'smart casual'. I suggested trousers and a polo shirt. This got me thinking...I only have 1 polo shirt and yet, I'm constantly invited to smart casual event. Must get more polo shirts, I thought to myself. Anyway, took myself off to GAP on Saturday to buy a polo shirt (£15). At the shop, I noticed some guy circling the polo shirt section as I was. We exchanged smiles and moved on. There was a shirt hanging in another section which we reached at roughly trey same time. We smiled again and he took the shirt and went off. I picked a polo shirt and went to the huge queue to pay for it. Shirt-boy was standing in front of. Not bad looking, I thought. And you KNOW how selective I am about things like that. Anyway, he paid and turned to leave and smiled at me. I paid and left.
That evening, Alex and I went to a bop at Linacre. I accidentally spilt some beer down Alex's top. She tried to jerk my arm so I got some on myself but I ducked out of the way neatly and the beer with flying, landing on someone's arm. I went over to apologise and the guy said "don't worry about it. By the way, we met at GAP this afternoon. This is the shirt we were both looking at." I was flabbergasted. Fuck me, I though. What a coincidence.
Short story, long, we spilt our seed in Linacre gardens. It was magic. Pure magic. And I only felt a little bit dirty. My arms and legs are terribly scratched now, though. To say nothing of my arse.

Now listening to: Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass

Last Wednesday, the Belgian, the German, the German's boyfriend, Barnaby and I dined at Harris Manchester College. For a shit College, the people are surprisingly attractive and up for it. Got so very drunk that I felt ill. ILL the next day.

Last Thursday, I dined at St Cross College with Annie, Diarmaid, Philip, and some Dutch people. Funny people those Dutch people. Not in a laugh with them sort of way but definitely in a laugh at them sort of way. Cunts.

Sexy semi-naked man is out on his balcony again. It's quite distracting, really. Shorts and nothing else.

Went to a Swing Band concert at Wycliffe Hall on Saturday evening. Who should I see but the SEXY VICARS.
You remember the sexy vicars, no? No? Well go back a reread my musings from Michaelmas. The concert was good but the audience and College were catastrophic. I mean, Wycliffe Hall? WTF?!

Currently looking like a gigolo. Apparently.