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.