And so, there's this thing...

How disappointing...

2008-03-04T00:31:00.002-07:00

Okay, so I read about some commandos who were going to row across the Atlantic Ocean to raise money for charity. Eagerly, cock in hand, I followed the link from the BBC website and found this: http://www.commando-joe.co.uk/Atlantic/index.htm

I mean, WTF?! I went from ROCK HARD to wiltingly flaccid faster than you could say 'fat ugly cunts'...

Anyway, I'm back with a vengeance.

I've returned. Again...

2007-03-14T00:35:00.000-07:00

Like a phoenix, I have risen from the ashes...

It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I KNOW I promised to update more often, but really, you shouldn't be so gullible.

YOUR POO IS INTOXICATING!

Says Dr Gillian McKeith. Hungry bitch. She can poke around in someone's shit and call it being a 'nutritionist'. I do it, and get labelled a 'filth pig'. Where is the justice?

I think I am addicted to sex. Of all the addictions t have, I reckon that's a pretty good one. It could have been worse...drink, drugs, loose (wo)men etc...

It seems Spring is upon us. The problem with the sun shining outside, is that it is less conducive to work inside. Today, I seriously considered having a pint (Kronenberg Blanc) at lunchtime. I discovered Kronenberg Blanc on Sunday. It is one of the best things ever. What is not so good , is the price. At £4.10/pint, I won't be knocking back pints of the stuff in a hurry.

On Saturday, I met up with Mark (I'm holding my hands 12 " apart) K, in London. I'd not seen him since February 2006. We drank and ate and drank some more then ended up at Ghetto where once again, I bumped into Cambridge friends.

Currently listening to Bohemian Like You by The Dandy Warhols. Good song. Clever lyrics.

I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in 6 weeks. I am in pain today. It is good pain though. Not like the time I slipped whilst getting out of the bath and fell on an upright courgette. I never did figure out how that courgette found its way into the bathroom. Must have been one of my housemates playing a trick on me. Or something.

ANYWAY, I want to go on holiday. I'm thinking Spain or France. I've not been to Spain but I have friends in Paris who keep telling me to visit them. I mean, I'm sure they mean it and don't just say that to everyone. Right? Right!

Wisdom...

2007-01-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

New year, new post...

2007-01-04T15:24:00.000-07:00

First post of 2007 but definitely not the last. My 1 resolution for 2007 is to continue to amuse and delight my loyal readership. And I know you are legion. Literally 8 of you.

I will begin with a list:

My year in cities (February 2006 (when I last did a cities list)-January 2007):

-Toronto
-Prague
-Geneva
-Cologne
-Munich
-Toronto

I clearly need to travel more.

People I've met who have ROCKED MY WORLD:

-The man in the mirror.

Did you see what I did there? I'm the man in the mirror. I ROCK MY FUCKING WORLD, MAN.

Anyway, I know I promised to post more regularly and I have failed, but failed, to do so. So I offer humble apologies. My lack of posts wasn't my fault though. I was felled by the shits at the beginning of December. I blame 1 of 2 things. Maybe both. (1) I MAY have consumed feces (but not the human variety) with traces of puss. Alternatively, (2) I may have eaten a bad egg. The shell was cracked, the membrane was intact. How was I to know it was bad? After night sweats, soaking sheets, fever, headache etc...I took myself off to my doctor. It was a locum. A freakin' locum. She of the 'it'll get better by itself variety'. I asked for, nay, DEMANDED drugs but the bitch wouldn't prescribe anything. Apparently, it was either something viral or bacterial and the treatment is the same. Plenty of clear fluids and BRAT (bananas, rice, apple sauce, toast). Not a curry, which is what I had. I was up half the night pebble-dashing the toilet. I still have nightmares. And stains in my pants.

I don't really have stains in my pants. I am far too clean for that. FAR TOO CLEAN.

Speaking of stained pants...the worst thing in the world is when you go through the trouble of stealing someone's pants and you get them home only to discover a skid mark.

I know you're all dying to know what I did for Christmas, so I shall tell you. I went to Canadia for 16 days. It was pleasant. No snow, mild temperatures, cheap stuff. I was afraid I'd have to shovel mountains of snow as I usually have to do when I'm there. The only downside was the journey there and back. As god as my witness, I will never travel on Air India again. The only good things about the flight were that it was cheap (Â£245 return) and it departs from Birmingham International Airport (more convenient to get to than Heathrow). On the minus side: the flight to Toronto was 4 hours late departing. The flight to Birmingham was 2 hours late arriving, the food was inedible, the plane stank at the beginning of the flight but was unbearable (I almost fainted) by the end of the flight. I had to literally run off the plane and take in deep lungfuls of fresh air. The in-flight entertainment system only had 2 channels, the bint stewardess wouldn't let me use the toilets closest to my seat because they were reserved for Executive Class passengers (all 2 of them). Fortunately, I remembered that I am essentially an Englishman and chosen by God tocivilizee the heathen masses so I came over all imperious and used the Executive toilets anyway. I got dirty looks from the stewardess the rest of the flight though. Incidentally, 'stewardesses' is the longest word you can type with your left hand if touch-typing. I am the font of all knowledge. Being essentially an Englishman. There were several attractive people on the flight though, but I wasn't seated anywhere near them. Instead, I had some oaf on one side of me who insisted on using his Blackberry during the flight and kept trying to speak to me (I hid it when he went to the loo. He was frantic) and on the way there, I had some freak who kept asking for weird shit like herbal tea and soya milk for his coffee. He tried to speak to me to but I quelled him with a glance.

At the gym yesterday (my first time in over a month. I ACHE), I had erection after erection. Wednesday at 6pm is evidentally the time the HOT people go. I almost fell off the treadmill, so mesmerised was I by the perfectly formed, lycra-clad ass of the guy running in front of me. Somehow, he ended up near me at each piece of equipment. First it was the treadmill, then the cross trainer, them the mat, then the erg and then the sauna. Coincidence after coincidence. I think he may have been checking me out.

Self-harm

2006-11-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

Goodness, my liver hurts.

Drank vast quantities of Calimocho on Friday at a party in my road. Calimocho, for those of you who don't know, is a Spanish drink. A Spanish peasant drink. Well, not only peasants, but young pissheads too. Anyway, it is a mixture of red wine and Coke. Sounds revolting but tastes like Sangria. Only better.

Anyway, went to this party with BSP (BIG STRAIGHT PHIL) and drank and chatted and perved. There were several attractive people there. I met a guy who apparently has a beautiful schlong. His face gave no indication as to the beauty within his pants though. He was repellant. No, that's not true. He just isn't as attractive as my friend he was courting. But doing a terrible job of it. Breeders should leave the courting to benders. We're wwwaaayyy better at it.

Woke up with the worst hangover ever. Fucking Spaniards. Went into town to help BSP choose spectacles (whenever he tried on a ridiculous pair, I squeezed his testicles). Spectacles...testicles...it almost rhymes...it does if you say it in a gay way.

On Saturday evening, Tom, Natasha, Aaron, Jenny and Jack came around for supper. I am slightly in love with Jack. By that, I mean that I want to have sex with him. He is a rugby player and I can think of nothing better than waking up beneath him. Well, I can think of several things better than that but they are too obscene to be posted here. I am willing to demonstrate so get in touch if you are even the least bit curious. And attractive. Do it now. But send a photo too.

Jack stayed after the others left and I casually brought up the subject of pornography (I'm getting quite adept at that)...short story, long...we ended up watching a film called 'Mrs Steele, My First Sex Teacher', in which some silicone-titted slut rolls her eyes as she talks dirty and refers to her pussy in the third person before taking a load in her mouth. It was well hot.

On Sunday, I went to the Remembrance Sunday service in Magdalen Chapel. Just like a normal service but it started at 10:55 instead of 11:00 and we sang 'God Save the Queen' at the end. I think we should sing GSQ every week. Or at least monthly. Nothing wrong with a bit of patriotism. Ask Nick Griffin.
After Chapel, I went to brunch where B and I were cornered by Lord Hurd (as in Douglas Hurd, the former Foreign Secretary). Lord H gave the sermon and it was exceedingly poor. The only excitement during the service was provided by Jesus in the form of:

-My phone going off during the service. I turned around an glared at the woman behind me so everyone would think it was her. If it works for flatulence why not mobile telephones?
-An incredibly hot boy (whose name I now know thanks to facebook)
-A woman dressed like a Nazi dominatrix/Nun (fish-net tights, short skirt, black leather jacket, poppy and a fuck-off-huge jewelled crucifix around her cum-soaked throat. I made up the bit about her throat being cum-soaked. But it probably was. Filthy whore).

After chapel, I had fencing which was tiring but good. I laid waste to some bitch who wasn't gracious enough to accept my apology (for telling her to shut up a couple of weeks ago).

The way to a woman's heart/anus:

One must rub the head of one's penis against the labia majora, followed by the perineum and finally, the anus. Plenty of lubricant is, of course, mandatory. With regard to men, skip the labia majora bit and the lube bit. It's not really necessary.

Just kidding. Use oil-based lubricants. Latex condoms work especially well with them...

Have you missed me?

2006-11-08T13:38:00.000-07:00

Lordy, lordy...it has been a long time. I bet you, my loyal readers, have been distraught at my absence. Perhaps thinking that I was grievously ill or even dead. But no. Neither of those, you stupid fucks. I just couldn't be bothered. But now I can. You'd better put on your seatbelts; It's going to be a bumpy ride...

I bought myself a tiny, shiny (well, not shiny as it's brushed aluminum) iPod Shuffle. Perfect for the gym and for those long, sweaty runs I go on. The ones without the aid of laxatives. Did you see what I did there? Long runs, the shits...? Clever, eh? That's Cambridge for you...

Anyway, the temp in my office has just fallen off the turnip truck. Not only is he as thick as shit but he butts into every conversation with some inane, stupid comment. I'm going to get him sacked. Apparently, his knob is pierced too. What a cock. AND he walks like he's just been fucked up the ass. Which isn't inconceivable as he's a filthy homosexual.

Has anyone, you, perhaps, stolen someone's pants and used them for masturbatory purposes? Is it wrong to do this? Suppose the person in question (the victim of the theft, infact) is really HOT and really sweet (and suppose, hypothetically, that the pants had been worn earlier in the day whilst the person was doing some hard-core gym training and they were damp from the sweat. Hypothetically, I mean)? Does that justify the theft? I think it does.

I've met a load of really lovely people since Term began. Lets see...the French (2 HOT girls and a HOTTER guy), the bender American musicologist, the dyke American classicist (really very dyke), the bender Australian politician (HOT), the breeder South African who I thought had AIDS but turned out to just speak really ambiguously, the American bender politician, the HOT breeder medic with the gap in his teeth, the breeder ex-Yale person who uses my gym (and sweats like a pig), the breeder philosopher from All Souls, the undergraduate who is wavering between breeder and bender... etc...all lovely, lovely people...

I had a very informative conversation about anal penetration with some gayboys yesterday. Yes...very informative indeed. Not so much from their point of view but I learnt a lot about the kinky shit they get up to. They are clearly going to burn in hell.

I dined at High Table at Mansfield College last week. It was much better than I thought it was going to be. I mean, the College is so poor they don't have a pot to piss in, but they do themselves well when it comes to food and booze.

Oh, and I've taken up fencing. Really hard on the legs but the Kevlar kit is sexy.

Things I want to do soon:

Have a go on the helter-skelter in the Turbine Hall of the Tate Modern
See the Hockney exhibit
Have colonic irrigation (no still haven't done it)
Get new spectacles (I don't need new ones, I want new ones)
Go to Paris
Go to Barcelona/Madrid
Go to Iceland (the country not the shop)
Lick a perineum

There's a good chance I could fit those in between now and Christmas, no? Any takers?

Lists...

2006-08-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

Go see Warrior King. Brilliant film.

Things that have been getting my goat lately:

-The weather
-The German
-The cock in my office who wears shiny polyester suits
-The whole 'taxes and charges' thing that adds about 30% to the price of an airline ticket
-The rudeness of not RSVPing to invitations
-The people against profiling by airlines. I'd like to be able to take a book and iPod on board
-The people who should remain silent and be thought fools but who speak and remove all doubt
-The people who describe themselves as having a 'rugby build' when they are, infact, just plain fat
-The people who say they are into bondage and sado masochism but really aren't
-The fucking bitch at the cinema yesterday who talked through the film. Very satisfying watching her get splashed by a car
-The misguided cu nts known as 'animal rights activists'
-The absence from Oxford of Big Straight Phil and Tom the Gay
-The self-important bint in the office who doesn't realise her job can be done by a monkey and is going to be automated when she retires next month
-The people who refer to single entities in the plural- "the University are hoping to..." or "Nat West have raised bank charges..." instead of the correct- "the University IS hoping to..." and "Nat West HAS raised bank charges..."
-The people who go on and on about the size of their stipend but never buy a round of drinks or bring wine/anything when invited to supper
-The people who get offended when you point this out to them

The ultimate iPod playlist:

-Tidal Wave by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
-Kelly Watch The Stars by Air
-If 6 Was 9 by Axiom
-Supergirl by Reamon
-Remember by Air
-Lay Lady Lay by Magnum
-The Drugs Don't Work by The Verve
-Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley
-Destiny by Zero 7
-Push the Button by Sugababes
-What Gives With You by Abraham
-Walk on By by Dionne Warwick
-Here's Where The Story Ends by The Sundays
-Mysteries by Beth Gibbons
-Lost and Found by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
-Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez
-Ooh La La by Goldfrapp
-I Did It My Way by Frank Sinatra
-Making Plans For Nigel by Nouvelle Vague
-Tear Drop my Massive Attack
-Mrs Robinson by Weezer
-Killin' Time by Matt Lewis Band
-So Here We Are by Bloc Party
-As Time Goes By by Billie Holiday
-Dream Is Over by Milli Vanilli
-Winning A Battle, Losing a War by Kings of Convenience
-Toy Soldier by Martika
-Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin
-Wrecking Ball by Viva Voce
-Dramamine by Modest Mouse
-Dream A Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass
-Bloody Motherfucking Asshole by Martha Wainwright
-Glory Box by Portishead
-Yes Sir, I Can Boogie by Goldfrapp
-Don't Stop Me Now by McFly
-Brand New Car by Feeder
-Bermuda Highway by My Morning Jacket
-Cocktails For Two by Spike Jones
-Under The Tree by The Water Babies
-Seether by Veruca Salt

Kinky pervert...

2006-08-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

Making someone call me 'Daddy' whilst I urinate on them doesn't make me a perv.
I (and several friends) got a free meal out of it and I found the whole situation strangely erotic. There's no accounting for taste. I mean, I KNOW urine is sterile (even if many Oxford medical students don't) but I certainly don't want to make someone kneel in the bathtub whilst wearing a complimentary British Airways eyemask and beg Daddy to punish him because he's been playing with himself. Oh no...not me. Not that I've ever been in that situation, of course...still, there is that free meal to think of...and an academic salary doesn't go far. I'm just saying...

So, after the imaginary incident above took place, I skipped off to the Tingewick Garden Party at Green College. It was pleasant enough but would have been more so if a certain short, balding (blonde highlights only call attention to the problem, not hide it) with lesions around the lips (labia?) medic hasn't been there. Things didn't really kick off until Phil and Morven (almost 30 minutes late) arrived. James M was also there as was Phil's ginger friend Hamish who looks better in photographs but is very pleasant. And he likes his dairy products. Kurds and whey. Did you see what I did there? He's courting an Iraqi woman....Iraqi, Kurd...no? Fuck off.

After quaffing lots of fizzy stuff and downing scones and clotted cream (and the odd wasp) we took ourselves off to Pizza Express at the Castle Prison place. I could eat at Pizza Express everyday. Infact I did go through a phase of eating there everyday for 10 days in Cambridge. After the 6th day, they threw in the dough balls for free. On the 7th day they offered a free glass of wine and on the 10th day, the waiter gave me his number...

Phil, as usual, disgraced himself and us by stuffing his trousers with paper towels in the loo. I mean, I went along with it but there was hardly room for one folded up paper towel in my pants but Phil managed several dozen.

After dinner, we went to The Living Room (I was expecting it to be full of chavs) and do you know, it was full of chavs. But in a pleasant way. James M and I had a good long chat and met some lovely townies.

Currently listening to: 'Snippets' by Amateur Transplants. Hilarious.

Birthdays...

2006-08-14T00:45:00.000-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRIAN!

I'll visit you soon, I promise. We'll show the DC gays how to party. Yeah...

Our House...

2006-08-09T14:06:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

A truer word was never spoken.

Just thought I'd pass those words of wisdom on. Nothing at all to do with my weekend though.
The weekend was interesting. On Saturday, the German and I interviewed potential housemates. Of the 26 people who responded to the ad, we invited 10 for interview. 2 came on Wednesday and the rest on Saturday. Apart from one of them, they were all reasonably pleasant. Yep, only 1 freak. I was responsible for arranging interviews so I of course only invited the ones I thought would be fit. And male.

I did let 'Ingrid' come see the house and meet us though. I was expecting a buxom German or Scandinavian. Tall, leggy blond, enormous jugs...you get the idea. Instead, Ingrid turned out to be a vertically challenged Taiwanese female. Yuck. Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of time for the Taiwanese. They are a noble people. I do all in my power to buy cut-rate goods manufactured by young, underpaid children who should be at school but instead are slaving away in factories.
Anyway, Ingrid was catastrophic. She rang me to say 'I am at your house. Please can you open the door'. Why didn't the bint ring the bell? I thought to myself. I opened the door to not find her. I walked to the pavement to see her standing about 5 doors away with a man. I beckoned them over and sat them down in the living room. Had a brief chat and showed her the kitchen and garden. Took her upstairs to show her the bathroom and the room in question. 'Only 1 bathroom?'. Erm, no. There is another one but it's invisible to all but me. Moron. After raising objections to wireless broadband, parties/noise, drinking, she announced 'I will take this room'. Like fuck you will, I thought. I mumbled something about having more people to see and that we'd be in touch on Sunday. 'How can I secure this room?'. I will sign the lease today.'. No you fucking won't. Finally got rid of her. We didn't even bother making notes or awarding her a score. We just topped up our pink G&Ts and shook our heads in disbelief that people like that existed outside the realms of fiction.

Heavenly Host...

2006-08-03T01:02:00.000-07:00

I am such a good host. It's not easy being such a good host. Making sure the food is delicious, glasses are topped up etc...Being the solicitous host is terribly hard work. And thankless. Completely thankless. Sure, the guests have a good time but what do I get out of it? I get to arm-wrestle Big Straight Phil (BSP) and come away with a few wank fantasies...
I ask you...why do I do it? Huh? Why?

On Saturday, BSP, Morven, Alexandra, Tom and Guy came around for supper. I had a marvellous time. Even though Morven gets a bit randy when she's pissed. I've lost count of the number of times I had to say "No Morven. I do not want to have sexual relations with you. It's Phil, Tom and Guy I'm interested in, not you". But she was having none of it. She's relentless. And the number of times she just happened to brush against me...I felt dirty and used.

Speaking of relentless, had to endure sangria and cheese on Friday night. Fortnately, Sophia and Ben Van D were also in attendence. I made friends with 2 lovely females (Harriet and Grace) and got the hell out of there as quicky as I could without arousing suspicion. And certainly without being aroused.

Spent Sunday lounging around New College Gardens with Phil and Tom. I'd rather have had Guy but Tom came instead. It was better for him than it was for me. We invented a new game called Flip-Flop Flicking. It is a game of great skill and requires hours of daily training for many years before one becomes proficient in it. We were joined by James G and headed over to Quod for coffee. All the waiters at Quod are of the homosexualist variety. That is, they like to undulge in a bit of cockplay every now and then. I know this because I read a lot.

Currently listening to: Lost and Found by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!

Le weekend...

2006-07-25T00:40:00.000-07:00

People complain that my blog isn't topical enough or that it offers no political commentary. To those people, I say, FUCK OFF. Immediately.

There are some lovely photos of me on-line. You just need to know where to look. In a bid to preserve my fast waning anonymity, I am not going to tell you where they are. Those of you who need to know, can ask me. Those of you who merely want a photograph of me to jerk-off over, can ask me too. Everyone else can kiss my brown ring.

On Thursday, I had dinner at E & S's place with the German, Christian (who also happens to be Christian) and Corin (probably a heathen). Photos available on-line if you know where to look. Same rules apply as above. Dinner was, as usual delicious. The conversation flowed and the booze was plentiful. E & S are moving to the States for a while (7 months?) and I am thrilled, simply thrilled about this. I will miss them of course, but I'll get over that pretty damn quickly. Out of sight out of mind and all that. But, BUT, I'll be able to visit them in the States. Please, please, please move somewhere good.

Woke up with a hangover on Friday but put on a brave face and made it through the day. Met up with Alexandra and some others later that evening for some wine and chat. Was accosted by some quite attractive chavs in High Street who wanted to take my photo. Not sure why. But I'm hoping it's being used for masturbatory purposes. I was wearing the black leather fuck-me necklace thing, so I live in hope.

Currently listening to 'Future' by Cut Copy.

I was awoken on Saturday by a headache and the need to empty my heaving bladder. That done, I wandered around the house in just my pants (underwear, for my American readers), something I am rarely afforded the opportunity to do. Faffed around a bit then wandered into town with my gym kit to have lunch with James. Went to Hall but it was shut so decided to go to Alpha Bar in the Covered Market. Sat in Exeter Fellow's Garden but the thunder was ominous so we legged it to Blackwells for coffee. It PISSED down for about an hour.

There was a deluge, a veritable DELUGE. The heavens opened up and the wrath of God was rained down upon us. I knew the Lord had a sense of humour when the fu cking animal rights protesters scattered mid-chant to seek shelter. That'll teach the fuckers. I hope they develop pneumonia and are offered the choice of either a slow and painful death or drugs which have been tested on animals. How ironic would that be? Oh, how I'd laugh and laugh...
Some bint tried to give me a flier with a picture of a mangled monkey on it but I just gave her a withering glare. She scurried off...She shouldn't have been within 50 yards of me anyway as I'm covered by the 50 meter exclusion zone. She's lucky I was feeling generous otherwise I'd have reported her to one of the HOT policemen on horses nearby. Stupid misguided bitch.

Went to a lezzer's farewell drinks at Magdalen on Saturday evening. Chatted to some people but legged it around quarter to one for a booty call. Erm, I mean to have a drink with a friend.

Met up with Alexandra on Sunday for coffee and a nose around ChristChurch where she is teaching Introduction to Philosophy to 12 Americans. Her rooms are lovely. Panelled in dark wood, separate bedroom, a couple of sofas, beautifully carved built-in bookcases. ChCh: shit college but lovely rooms.

Met up again with my 'friend' from the night before and had a walk around town. Then went home to await the Czech, who duly arrived bearing some quite delicious wine. Got tipsy, got naked, got sticky...

Now listening to: 'In Manus Tuas I' composed by Thomas Tallis. Sublime. Plainsong is beautiful.

Awoke with a terrible hangover and wandered around the house naked this time. It's the perfect cure for a hangover.

Some new bint was supposed to start in the office today but she hasn't arrived. Start as you mean to go on, I always say...we'll have some sport with her, let me tell you.

The woman across the office has been picking her nose for about 30 minutes. She's broken her own record.

Hilarious...

2006-07-19T00:21:00.000-07:00

Reminiscent of the days when 'Saturday Night Live' was good.

Procrastination tool...

2006-07-19T00:20:00.000-07:00

Sex tourism...

2006-07-18T13:19:00.000-07:00

Dear God. I've become one of those fat, common men who go to Thailand to pick-up young boys. You know the ones I mean....the ones called 'Barry' but who prefer to be called 'Bazza', order Champagne in bars and think Harrods is well classy. Or those older Sharons who go to Africa specifically to meet young black men.The tarts who don't realise that they are just being used for their foreign currency and their UK passports. Okay, maybe I haven't quite sunk that low but when in Rome (or the Czech Republic) do as Romans do and in Rome, everyone has sex with reckless abandon. Geneva was much the same. The amount of sex people were having is mind-boggling. I'm surprised people can walk at all.
The only problem with the Czech Rep and Geneva is the people. Firm, toned, tanned bodies but catastrophic faces. Body by Baywatch, face by Crimewatch, infact...

My liver hurts. I have HUGE blisters on my feet and, AND I have sun-stroke. It's not easy being me but it certainly a lot of fun. Don't just take my word for it. Ask anyone.

It's been whirlwind, a veritable whirlwind of social activity since I last posted anything. Since I last posted:
-I have become increasing more addicted to facebook (so much better than myspace)
-I went to a 4th of July barbecue (not the real thing as there was no watermelon, biscuit, chitlins' and grits etc... AND it was on July 3
-I have been to Prague with HOT Bescher
-I have been to Geneva to visit Alex
-I have bonded with a homosexualist couple about whom I have been having dirty thoughts
-I have been to Green College Ball
-I have cut my hair several times
-I have perfected the Perfect Manhattan (again)
-The Czech and I have been engaging in sexual acrobatics
-I have become the king of table football
-I've been applying for jobs
-I have been to see a mortgage adviser (jumped up little shit with 2 O-levels, wearing a polyester suit, smelling of Lynx)
-I have realised that property in Jericho is alarmingly expensive
-I have seriously been considering moving to London, but then came to my senses. Who the hell would want to live in London? Not me...
-I have been told that I have a 'spiky personality'(!)
-I have been working on my abs and I am almost pleased with them. But not quite.
-I have discovered the joy of running. Admittedly on a treadmill, but directly below an air-conditioning outlet

Anyway, enough about me. How are you?

Currently listening to: Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Currently wearing: white shirt, jeans, flip-flops but no underwear. Going commando is very liberating. And what's a little chafing, afterall?

I'm not really pleased with my abs.

You shall go to the Ball...

2006-06-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

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...

2006-06-22T00:23:00.000-07:00

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...

2006-06-19T12:21:00.001-07:00

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...

2006-06-18T16:35:00.000-07:00

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...

2006-06-13T18:47:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-06-07T00:41:00.000-07:00

"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.

Summer...

2006-05-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

Summer has arrived. I'm not getting used to it though as it'll probably be freezing tomorrow and pissing down with rain. Still, I suppose I'd better enjoy the sunshine whilst I can.

Currently listening to Heartbeat by Jose Gonzalez. It's the theme tune of the Sony Bravia advert. Quite possibly one of the most beautiful adverts ever. The one with the multi coloured bouncing balls...sublime.

The office is in turmoil. Evil bosslady is leaving at the end of the month. I certainly don't want her job. Too much work, too little money. There are days I feel like Elaine from Seinfeld working at Pendent Publishing. You know, days when she does nothing, but nothing...and yet does so much. I also have those Elaine days when the stuff I do is as worthwhile as Elaine buying white tube socks for her boss. Not that I've ever done that. I mean, white tube socks? What the fuck...?

Today I am wearing very comfortable brown shows. They are quite wide, almost like Ronald McDonald's shoes but not quite. And certainly not red. Ronald Mc D...that paedophile.
Anyway, brown shoes, white shirt, jeans and a brown corduroy jacket. I mean, how liberal arts professor is that? I'm practically the professor-guy Joey was fucking in Dawson's Creek. Hot.

Now listening to 'I want to be Sedated', the Shonen Knife version.

BSP has gone and abandoned me. He's looking at vaginas in Ireland. Purely as part of his medical training. I assure you. Or rather, he assures me. BSP's less straight brother is still around but refuses to come out and play as he has exams. EXAMS?! I ask you...

I think a defriending is in order. I have too many people called 'James' in my phone anyway. One less won't make a difference.

Brian and Hot Bescher- I am still inflicting myself on you this summer.

I performed a testicular self-examination in the shower this morning. I perform them weekly. Usually, I try to get someone else to do them for me and I reciprocate, but today, I thought I'd do it myself. It was great fun. I couldn't stop. 45 minutes later, the bathroom was so steamy it was like a, erm, steamroom. The German and the Belgian were pounding on the door, desperate for a dump. But I didn't care. On no...I was in a world of my own. Just me and my testicles. 'Scrotum' is a much under-used word, no?

And old friend I haven't seen in AGES is coming to Oxford this weekend. We were at Cambridge together but then we lost touch and whilst I used to think about him sometimes, I didn't bother getting in touch. Mainly because I thought we'd having nothing to say to one another after all this time. Anyway, Conrad, photographer extraordinaire mentioned a guy he knows who was at Cambridge who he met in NYC last year and they'd kept in touch and what a great guy and did I know him? Turns out I did know him! Anyway, short story, long...he's coming to Oxford this weekend.

What a weird coincidence though. Cambridge friend left Cambridge bummed around for a while, ended up in London, went to India, did some other stuff, went to NYC on holiday, met Conrad, went back to NYC, stayed with Conrad, Conrad comes to Oxford to see and photograph me, mentions Cambridge guy, I exclaim 'holy fuck!', I get in touch with Cambridge guy, Cambridge guy comes to Oxford to visit me. Strange but true.

Now listening to: Love Is No Big Truth by Kings of Convenience.

I rose again from the dead...

2006-04-19T15:16:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah...I haven't posted in ages, so here you go.

The flight to Toronto was bizarre. There were so many people in wheeled chairs that I had to ask the stewardess, "excuse me, is this flight going to Lourdes or Toronto?". Instead of smiling sweetly, she practically snarled at me. Fucking bitch.
The flight itself was uneventful. 18 channels to choose from and the best things on were Little Britain (hilarious but one I'd seen) and Pride and Prejudice. Good, but I could have done without seeing it again. I had no choice but to get tipsy.

Toronto. 'nuff said.

The flight back was special. For the first time ever, there were HOT stewards on board. The Purser was so tanned that he looked like a kipper but fortunately, he was attending to the chavs in First Class. The hot stewards were truly hot. A scally with tattoos and shaven head, a swarthy Spaniard, and a slightly mincy Essex person. Hot, Hot, Hot. There was also a gayboy couple sitting behind me and quite possibly one of the hottest people I've seen in a while sitting in my row. His HOTNESS dissipated when he covered himself with the blanket (like a granny) and put on the eyeshades (like a freak). Still, it didn't stop me from staring and having dirty thoughts. Besides, with the fucking eyeshade on, it's not like he could have seen me staring. He was also wearing one of those yellow rubber 'Live Strong' things on his wrist. That would have put me off immediately if the blanket and eyeshade hadn't.

Had cocktails with Phil (BSP) at the Duke yesterday. It was heaving with homos. Then off to Pierre Victoire for a cheap meal. Very cheap. Very, very, cheap. Then the King's Arms where we were joined by BSP's less straight brother, his rower mate and Charlie and his mate, who was lovely. For a rank female.

Awfully hungover this morning though.

Currently listening to: Don't Take it Personal by The Spinto Band.

Things that are taking up a lot of time at present:
-work
-facebook
-msn
-Renaissance Literature
-eating
-drinking
-porn (watching, not making. But that may be about to change)
-writing (for pleasure, not work)
-lounging in cafes
-learning Latin
-learning web design

Now listening to: Blue Prints by The Dust Jackets

Currently wearing: black skinny jeans, green t-shirt, black sweater, black pointy shoes, supercilious expression, a weary air.

Whilst I LOVE going abroad for holidays, the time difference always wrecks havoc on my bowel movements. I'm ordinarily (and believe me, there's nothing ordinary about me) a once a day man. That is, I have 1 bowel movement per day. In the morning. BEFORE having a shower. Now, in Toronto, I was up to two per day. Two shits per day = 2 showers per day. I don't mind two showers per day and most days, have two showers per day. But I like my shower times to be chose by me, not dictated by my bowel movements. It's a worry. It also leads to dry skin and chaffing. I'm still on Toronto time which is 5 hours behind GMT so I need to have a dump around mid day GMT (approx. 7am Toronto time). This in turn means legging it home to have a dump and a shower OR having a dump in the office and then legging it home to have a shower. That too, is sub-ideal. It's hard being me. I might petition the Estates people to install a shower in the building. Gawd knows we need one. Some of the people who cycle to work are incredibly whiffy. Passing them on the stairs is always an ordeal. I almost fainted yesterday. Fortunately I was able to clutch the bannister and stagger up the stairs.

SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER, SHOWER!

Now listening to: Remember me by British Sea Power

WTF?!

2006-04-12T09:39:00.000-07:00

OMG!

Currently listening to Top of the World by Shonen Knife. I love the Japanese.

Affrontery...

2006-03-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

Being offered money for sex is not flattering. I thought it would be, but strangely not. The indecent proposal in question occurred on Saturday night. I mean, do I look the type of person that would accept payment for sex? Not payment in the form of cash, anyway. Drinks, meals, trips abroad- yes. Cash, no. Besides, the person in question wasn't really my type...

Currently listening to: Kissing The Lipless by The Shins

On Friday, Max, Alex, James, Kammy, Sophia, Paul and Sophia came around for a big night in. We ate, drink and made merry. Oh, how we made merry. The only thing that would have made us merrier is a whore or two.

I've realised Green Wing is based on my life. Of course, the producers have set it in a hospital, but otherwise, it's autobiographical. Weird. AND I'm not getting any royalties. Fuckers.

"Titration" and 'nebulised' are words that do not belong in a song. Tell me the song and I will allow you to buy me dinner.

Now listening to: Such Great Heights by Iron and Wine (thank you, Annie).
I've been listening to it and Nancy Boy all weekend.

Time after time...

2006-03-24T12:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Try your luck...

2006-03-21T08:05:00.000-07:00

Around half of all Americans believe in astrology, and 72% believe in angels. Belief in 'good luck' and ways of ensuring it, extend to the superintelligent. The Nobel prizewinning physicist Niels Bohr kept a horseshoe nailed to the wall above his desk and, when asked whether he believed it would bring him luck, replied: Â“Not at all. I am scarcely likely to believe in such nonsense. However, I am told that a horseshoe will bring you luck whether you believe in it or not.Â”

I believe in the power of porn. Does that count?

Currently listening to: Crush With Eyeliner by R.E.M.

Men are so fickle.

Phil came through on his birthday. I knew he would. I have absolute and complete faith in Phil's dinner booking abilities. It was magic. Pure magic.

Went to a conference last week at the British Academy. Good fun, but as I expected, everyone was very earnest and anti-Oxbridge. Well, they can all fuck off. They all wanted to know why the University of Wolverhampton does so much more for refugee academics than Oxford. I told them it's probably because no one wants to go to the University of Wolverhampton and they need refugee academics to fill vacant posts whereas Oxford has no shortage of people wanting to work here. Fools.

Currently into The Spinto Band in a big way. A BIG WAY.

There isn't a lot of good stuff on television these days but I could watch the Ask.com advert for hours and hours. The song in the advert is called Such Great Heights by Postal Service but I'm not sure who does the acoustic version used in the advert.
The tagline is "if you don't ask, you don't get". How true. I'd still be virginal, if it wasn't for those desperate, intoxicated acquaintances and strangers.

Now listening to: Our New Home by The Boxer Program

Alexandra again made me a lovely supper last night (and last Friday but that one wasn't very good). We had chocolate fondue for pudding with chunks of banana and strawberries for dunking. I almost shot my load. It was just the two of us last night. Us and some soft porn on Sky TV. We tried to watch it without giggling but we couldn't. How does ANYONE watch heaving, wobbly, vacuous women spanking themselves and dry humping matresses without laughing out loud?

iPods are amazing but the constant need for recharging is deeply tedious. Why oh why can't the good people at Apple sort it out? The battery in mine only seems to last 4 hours.

On Sunday, I met up with Annie for coffee, then cocktails then dinner and an Agatha Christie, Poirot (Belgian not French) mystery (Cards On The Table). I LOVE Agatha Christie. I'm such an old woman. Anyway, it was one with Ariadne Oliver who is one of my favourite characters but they had Zoe Wannamaker playing her. I like Zoe but the role required someone a bit fatter.

Now listening to: Blue Prints by The Dust Jackets

Another conference tomorrow, this time in Reading. What a shithole.

Strange but true...

2006-03-21T08:01:00.000-07:00

An Australian, an Irishman and a Scouser are in a bar. They're staring
at another man sitting on his own at a table in the corner. He's so
familiar, and not recognising him is driving them mad.

They stare and stare, until suddenly the Irishman twigs:
"My God, it's Jesus!" Sure enough, it is Jesus, nursing a pint.

Thrilled, they send him over a pint of Guinness, a pint of Fosters and a pint of bitter.

Jesus accepts the drinks, smiles over at the three men, and drinks the
pints slowly, one after another.

After he's finished the drinks, Jesus approaches the trio. He reaches
for the hand of the Irishman and shakes it, thanking him for the Guinness.

When he lets go, the Irishman gives a cry of amazement: "My God! The
arthritis I've had for 30 years is gone. It's a miracle!"

Jesus then shakes the Aussie's hand, thanking him for the lager. As he
lets go, the man's eyes widen in shock. "Strewth mate, the bad back
I've had all my life is completely gone! It's a miracle."

Jesus then approaches the Scouser who says, "Back off, mate, I'm on
disability benefit."

Currently listening to: Radiation by Exit 51

Deja Vu...

2006-03-09T09:27:00.000-07:00

This whole wheat-free lark is amazing. I feel much better and strangely feel quite energetic. Off to the gym after work then jazz at the City Tavern.

So far today, I've consumed:

1 bowl of porridge
1 banana
3 dates
a slab of nut roast with tomato sauce (courtesy of Lincoln College)
2 scoops of mashed potatoes (courtesy of Lincoln College)
1 thing of peas and carrots (courtesy of Lincoln College)
1 bowl of exceedingly good fruit salad (courtesy of Lincoln College)
2 litres of water
2 cups of coffee
1 cut of tea
And some of what I found whilst picking my nose.

NB. One of those is a lie.

Currently listening to Nancy Boy by Placebo.

The twat who works in my office is so fucking Christian and not in a good way.

What is the point of rugby players if they wear clothes that leave everything to the imagination?

Saw Mandelay last night at the Business School. Better than Dogville but not much.

Now listening to: Untouchable by Rialto.

jetzt mach ich dich so richtig scharf

2006-03-09T01:58:00.000-07:00

Headed down to Rose Lane with Alexandra today to catch James, Max, Richard and Chris in action for Teddy Hall Relays. People do not look attractive when they run. No they don't. Was good fun. We cheered and clapped and generally made a lot of noise when they came by. Not sure how they did though.

Currently listening to: Don't Need a Reason by Beth Orton. Very good and highly underrated. Actually writes and sings her own songs. What a novel idea.

Max sent me this the other day: http://www.readitswapit.co.uk/ . A good idea, I must say as I'm in favour of whatever gets people reading more but sadly, not for me. I like to hang on to books. The thought of giving them away frightens me. Books are like old friends. You want to keep them. Dip into them from time to time. And you can only do that if they're actually there, on a shelf, within reach.

Have I mentioned that Phil failed to book dinner at Green on Friday? No? Well, let me do it now. Phil failed to book dinner at Green on Friday.

The earphones that came with my iPod are shit. The left one never stays in. I need to find a suitable replacement. Thoughts?

Also, have a look at http://www.thestateoftheart.co.uk/ and buy something.

Now listening to: Baby One More Time by Travis. So much better than the other version.

Facebook is taking over my life.

Estate agents...

2006-03-07T15:33:00.000-07:00

Best quote ever:

"I didn't really notice him. He was an estate agent...measures things and wears ill fitting suits.".

How scathing. I wish I'd said it first.

Voyeurism...

2006-03-07T15:20:00.000-07:00

Teenage Fanclub is good, no?

Oxford is cold and miserable today. It's been raining all day and my thighs are wet from cycling in the rain. Ordinarily, I wouldn't object to wet thighs, but I'd rather the cause of the wetness was more pleasant and titillating.

I had a deeply tedious meeting this morning with some very provincial people. All very sweet and earnest but ever so simple. They were amazed by the venue, amazed by the view, amazed by the coffee and biscuits, amazed by lunch...sweet but oh so annoying. At what kind of place do these people work? I was so touched I offered to host the next meeting. I've booked a room in the Ashmolean Museum. They'll cream themselves. They'll fucking cream themselves. Sadly, they are terribly unattractive and I am the youngest by about 10 years so no chance of sex.

The high point of the meeting was discreetly staring at the Secretary. She looked like Catriona from Absolutely Fabulous.

The other high point of my day, has been watching the naked people in the flats opposite my office. They are always there, in various states of undress. Not unattractive so I'm not complaining or anything. They must be exhibitionists as they can't not see me staring at them from my desk.

So far today, I've eaten:

1 bowl of porridge
1 banana
2 satsumas
8 crisps (ready salted)
1 cup of coffee (organic and fair-trade, actually)
2 cups of tea (organic and fair-trade, actually)
1 cup of licorice and fennel tea (organic and fair-trade, actually)
I am so hungry it's unbelievable. Dinner at Magdalen this evening where, I hope, the food will be good and plentiful (it usually is).

Currently listening to Wrecking Ball by Viva Voce

BSP (Big Straight Phil) failed, but FAILED, to book us in for black tie dinner at Green College, Oxford (the last such dinner this term, I might add). I am barely coping with this crushing blow. On a brighter note though, Rory is coming up for cocktails at The Duke of Cambridge on Friday and Phil is joining us.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the Said Business School to watch 'Mandelay', the last Lars von Triers film with Alexandra, Max and several other reprobates.

Now listening to: Freak Like Me by Sugababes

Damn...naked man has put some clothes on.

I've booked my flight to Toronto in April. Even though I'm going for 8 days, I'm only using 3 days oh holiday. I LOVE the extended University closure periods.

Housman & Hunger...

2006-03-07T01:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going through an Housman phase. Again...it happens every spring. Not sure why though...

Because I liked you better
Than suits a man to say,
It irked you, and I promised
To throw the thought away.

To put the world between us
We parted, stiff and dry;
`Good-bye,' said you, `forget me.'
`I will, no fear', said I.

If here, where clover whitens
The dead man's knoll, you pass,
And no tall flower to meet you
Starts in the trefoiled grass,

Halt by the headstone naming
The heart no longer stirred,
And say the lad that loved you
Was one that kept his word.

Currently listening to the Japanese national anthem. Not the words, just the music. Limewire is incredible.

Quotes I've read/heard recently that speak to me:

" I drink to make other people more interesting"
"You will pay for your excessive charm"
"She does everything. And very quickly"
"Why do you want to get married? Marriage just splits people up"
"I get knocked down but I get up again, nothing's gonna keep me down"
"What a stupid gay"
"Early to bed and early to rise might make a man healthy, wealthy and wise but it don't make him cool, it don't make him fun, it makes him a little bit lazy, a little bit crazy, a little bit boring..."

So far today, I've consumed:

2 fried eggs courtesy of Magdalen College
A ladle of baked beans courtesy of Magdalen College
2 tinned tomatoes courtesy of Magdalen College
A bowl of porridge courtesy of Magdalen College
1 apple Mueller Rice courtesy of Magdalen College
1 cup of coffee courtesy of Magdalen College
2 dates
2 tablespoons of psyllium husk
3 litres of water
1 cup of vanilla Earl Gray tea
1 cup of Marigold Vegetable bouillon
1 cantaloupe (over-ripe)
2 Nairn's Rough Oat biscuits

I am starving. STARVING.
I've given up wheat for lent and I'm chronically hungry as a result. Like 'Dr' Gillian McKeith. Only I look good.

Now listening to: Killin' Time by the Matt Lewis Band

Babes in toyland...

2006-03-07T01:22:00.000-07:00

Blair can keep his babes. Mine are like, wwwwaaayyyy better.

Babe #1: On Wednesday, I dragged Sophia to the Imposition of Ashes service for Ash Wednesday at Magdalen. She is just so sweet. She wanted to know if she could take a cup of coffee with her. I'm surprised she didn't rock up in pyjamas. Moron. They take just anyone at Harvard, clearly. Anyway, the choir was singing Allegri's Miserere Mei which is commonly described as one of the most beautiful pieces of Christian sacred music and I'm inclined to agree. Sadly, the choir didn't do it justice. I should have gone to Exeter instead. The choristers at Magdalen, whilst very good don't do Miserere Mei justice. It requires a richer female voice. The service was quite long but it was very good and Sophia enjoyed it, I think. She managed to stay awake for the whole thing which is a miracle in itself.

Currently listening to: Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder.

Babe #2: Alexandra is all wrong. She's a bunch of contradictions and it's f ucked up. But in a good way. Coffee with Alex is never just coffee. It somehow morphs into drinks then dinner then long drunked chats about love, life and men. And we sometimes talk about her too. One such evening was on Monday. She rang up in a tizzy saying "I haven't been able to sleep for 2 days so I took a tranquilizer. Maybe several." Good grief. Anyway, we met up for coffee. I was desperately hungover and she was drugged up. Needless to say, our conversation was bizarre. Lots of people sitting near us seemed to be enjoying it, though. That is until we were asked to leave. Alex is also into erotic literature in French (who isn't?). How hot is that?

Now listening to: Northern Birds by Amateur Transplants

Babe #3: Annie, Annie, Annie...with her penchant for dragon flies, cocktails and jazz, I can barely keep up. I managed to catch up with her at jazz at the City Tavern last night though. It was magical. The band was really good and there were several attractive people in attendance, both playing and spectating. Over whiskey, we discussed our love lives. We still go for the same type (indie/skater boys and clever jocks. I think Annie's Oriel friend JT might fall into that category...). Anyway, Annie can put away any number of cocktails but she never seems to get drunk. Tipsy, yes, but never drunk. I don't know how she does it. Perhaps she has an big liver? Afterall, everything is big in Texas...

Now listening to: For What It's Worth by Sergio Mendes

This evening (Friday) I am heading to The Middle Temple for a concert, sung by Schola Cantorum followed by cocktails. Speaking of cocktails, I had a delicious pear and cardamom cocktail last night at Angels. The sweet barman knocked 25% off too because I said I worked at the Jericho tavern.

Ash Wednesday...

2006-03-01T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm wearing horizontal stripes today. I can get away with them as I am svelte. Slender. Slim...I could go on...

I had a delicious warm sandwich from Alpha Bar in the Covered Market today. It had olive tapenade, marinated and grilled tofu and tomato salsa on rye spelte. It was delicious. It also cost around £10 but it was worth it.

It may actually have only cost £2.95 but I am prone to exaggeration.

I really, really miss http://www.unicen.cam.ac.uk/catering/ul.html
I has the best Battenberg cake in Cambridge. And not just anaemic little slivers but f uck-off huge chunks. They used to employ a lot of people with Downs Syndrome and juveniles in the Tea Room as part of a make-work/welfare initiative. The Downs Syndrome workers would always be training the gormless Fen-bred locals on cash register usage. It was hilarious. One of the people they employed had Tourette's and it was great fun guessing if you were going to be told to 'f uck off' or not when you got your change back.

Some of the juveniles tried that on me but I got them sacked. F ucking pikies.

Currently listening to: Allegri's Miserere Mei (It IS Ash Wednesday).

This morning, I caught the crazy Belgian's even crazier sister's gormless boyfriend jerking off under the duvet in the living-room. I'm not judging him. I mean, we've all done it, right? I just didn't get caught...loser.

Some bint said I was vitriolic. Shocking.

I protest...

2006-02-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

I have had so little sleep over the last 5 days that I am dead on my feet. I need a vacation but will settle for a weekend in Paris. Any takers? Despite all that, I remain the best dressed person I know. I mean, it's becoming embarrassing now.

On Friday, I dined at Magdalen (again) and then went to Green College for a bop. It was awfully good fun. I had more luridly coloured 'cocktails' than I care to remember (or rather, than I can remember). Danced the night away (i.e., lurched around the dancefloor) and managed to stagger home around 2am.

Saturday started off pleasantly enough. I slept in, had lovely fresh pasta for breakfast (I was craving carbohydrate and there was nothing else in the house), went into town to support the Pro-Test protest and stayed to mock and jeer the SPEAK protest. Do people not understand?

TESTING ON ANIMALS IS A NECESSARY EVIL AND SAVES HUMAN LIVES.

Headed to London to meet up with Mark K for dinner and drinks. It started off alright but 5 hours later, deteriorated. I'm not one to slag people off so I won't go into details here...

On Sunday, went to the service at the University Church of St Mary the Virgin (SMV). James was singing there as usual and it was a special service in honour of the 20th anniversary of Cannon M at SMV. Had a marvellous organic lunch provided by the Vaults Cafe (I have to go there more often. It is seriously good. If only the portions weren't so small...).
Relaxed for the rest of the day then went to evensong at Exeter (HUGE freakin' mistake) and then RAN to Magdalen to meet Phil and Annie with whom James and I were dining. Dinner was very pleasant and comprised a lovely béchamel sauce. I could eat béchamel sauce everyday and never grow tired of it.

Who the fuck came up with béchamel sauce? Flour and butter do not a sauce make.

Went to Mertons for a drink where we were joined by Max and Sophia. The barman was supremely charming and quite attractive and informed us that Amoretto despite tasting of almonds actually comes from apricots. Actually.

The crazy Belgian arrived back in the UK from Barbados this morning at 6am. Her even crazier sister and the sister's gormless boyfriend arrived last night from Cardiff so they could go down to the airport with the German to welcome her back.

A note about the boyfriend. What a freak. Watching him attempt spreading Nutella on a croissant this morning was the most hilarious thing I've seen in a long time. An enormous dollop of Nutella ended up on his face so he looked like he was into scat. None of us told him it was there though. Not hot at all, I'm afraid. And he's just so big and lumbering and STANK this morning. I almost fainted...it was all I could do to remain upright. I had to grip the edge of the kitchen counter. My knuckles were turning white. He asked if there was anything he could do and I barely managed to mutter through clenched teeth that everything was under control and why don't you sit down OVER THERE. Catastrophic situation. It was a good 5 minutes before the odour dissipated and I was able to breathe normally again.

So far today, I've drunk:

2 cups of tea (milk, no sugar)
1 cup of coffee
2 cups of fennel and liquorice
1 cup of apple and cinnamon tea (tastes and looks like urine)
3 litres of water (tap water is fine in this country)

I've been invited to a HIGH level meeting, lecture and reception at the British Council. Piccadilly is my spiritual home, afterall. The lecture is called "Of Academic Freedom" and is being given by Dr John Sexton the President of New York University. It's in association with CARA (Council for Assisting Refugee Academics). Should be interesting. Have arranged to meet up with Nat afterwards so even if it's shite it won't have been a total waste.

Currently listening to: Something by Castanets.

I am the resurrection

2006-02-24T11:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know I've been crap about posting regularly but I've just been so gosh darn busy, that I simply haven't had the time. I'm back and raring to go though. Fear not.

Lessee...since I last posted, I've developed a penchant for lists. A fetish, if you will. So...

February 2005-February 2006 in cities:

Toronto
NYC
Washington DC
Toronto
Philadelphia
Toronto
Delhi
Haridwar
Hrishikesh
Jaipur
Agra
Bangalore

Bands I constantly listen to:

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Go! Team
Ladytron
Nouvelle Vague
The Greenhornes
Air (but only Moon Safari)
Suede (especially Suede)
Martha Wainwright (with a bit of Rufus thrown in)
Sugababes (only in moments of weakness)
Bloc Party
Kings of Convenience
Tallis
Byrd
Victoria

People I've met in the last year who've made my world a better place:

Annie M (the prettiest girl in school but doesn't know it)
Phil M (why won't you go out with me? Girls don't deserve you)
Mark K (sweet gym/cocktail buddy)
Mark B (hot, hot, hot; a cad and yet a gentleman)
Sophia S (a fratboy in a girl's body. HOT!)
James G (puts up with my crapness (and I, his)
Alexandra C (the cleverest girl in school but doesn't know it)

Some things I've read (and recommend) this year:

Porterhouse Blue
Grantchester Grind
Indecent Exposure
Vintage Stuff
Riotous Assembly
Wilt
Wilt On High
Blott on the Landscape
The Great Pursuit
Ancestral Vices
If God Spare My Life (a biography of William Tyndale)
The Collected Works of A.E. Hausman
Brideshead Revisited
A Room With a View

Lots of other stuff, but you HAVE to read those.

I've developed a taste for:

Whiskey
Whisky
Calimocho (red wine and Coke. The Spanish love this shit)
The colour black
Leather
Pointy shoes
Belts
Jazz
Hedi Slimane
Feather boas
Hands
Perfect Manhattans
Sweet Manhattans
Dry Manhattans
Bitter chocolate
Americans
Canadians

Vices, I'm trying (but not very hard) to overcome:

Jaffa Cakes
Porn
Figs
Fresh dates
Cashew nuts

Currently listening to: Love Will Tear Us Apart Again by Nouvelle Vague

How too, too sick-making...

2006-02-06T18:00:00.000-07:00

My sciatica is out of control. I've taken so much Ibuprofen in the last 7 days that I'm sure I've done my liver harm. My doctor, the Head of the Medical School, no less, told me to stretch my leg and continue taking the Ibuprofen. Disaster. This would never happen in Canadia. Ah...my beloved Canadia.

Currently listening to: There is an End by The Greenhornes.

On Friday, I went to Kazbar with Max, Catherine, Sophia, Paul and a couple of other people but they were dull. DULL. Okayish meal followed by a debate about where to go next. I was up for Liquid Lounge at Magdalen MCR but the others were in favour of £2 Fridays at New College MCR. For those of you who don't know, every other Friday at New College MCR, you pay £2 to get in and drink as much as you like for FREE. Yep, a big, fat NOTHING. It was pretty crowded but everyone was very pleasant and quite beautiful. Anyway, as we were queuing up to get a drink, Sophie asked "on a scale of 0-10, how pissed are you?" "Hmmm....a 2, I think.", I replied. So we proceeded to make our way towards 10 on the pissedness scale. The problem is, it was quite crowded and the bar is quite small so it took ages to get served. When we finally did get served we decided it would be easier to just get 3 or 4 drinks each and down them so we wouldn't have to carry them around. The Committee started chucking people out at 11 so we decided to collect James and go on to Love Bar. We were there all of 20 minutes when the New College cheap booze kicked in. Big stylee.
I was on the floor. I knew I'd be fine if I could just down a pint of water and have a little sit down. No such luck. The bouncer asked us to leave saying "Can't sleep here, mate". I hate being called 'mate'. SO, James had the unenviable task of getting me back to Magdalen. Several strangers apparently asked if I was alright and offered to help James carry my prone body home. Oxford is just so NICE.

ANYWAY, I ended up hurling all over James' room that night. I'm not pleased with myself. I've apologised profusely and have even attempted to unblock the drain...

The rest of the week was spent recuperating. And apologising.

I DID purchase a very cool jacket from Section 9 on Sunday though.

Now listening to: Playgirl by Ladytron.

Pedro Almodovar is the best director ever. EVER. I saw What Have I Done to Deserve This yesterday. It was weird and amusing.

The Belgian is away for 10 weeks. HURRAH. We have a friend of the German staying with us for a few days. He is very pleasant to look at. The stupid bastard keeps leaving the toilet lid up though. And we all know that that is a no-no. I saw him emerge from the bathroom today wearing nothing but a tiny pair of briefs. Practically a bikini. Yuck. New College thinks "Manners Mayketh Man" but EVERYONE knows it's all in the pants ('underwear', for my Transatlantic readers. You do exist, no?).

On Saturday, in my feeble state, I shaved James' hair off. It was very therapeutic. Afterwards, we went to a memorial service for Mary Bennett, former Pro-Vice-Chancellor of the University and former Principal of St Hilda's College, Oxford. James was singing and I was being a voyeur. I love memorial services. In Cambridge I used to go to as many as I could. Only once did I actually know the person who was being memorialised though. Still, they are good fun. The service on Saturday consisted of some very good music and several readings (a very good one from Job 28:18)...

"But where shall wisdom be found?
And where is the place of understanding?
Mortals do not know the way to it,d
and it is not found in the land of the living.
The deep says, 'It is not in me,'
and the sea says, 'It is not with me.'
It cannot be gotten for gold,
and silver cannot be weighed out as its price.
It cannot be valued in the gold of Ophir,
in precious onyx or sapphire.e
Gold and glass cannot equal it,
nor can it be exchanged for jewels of fine gold.
No mention shall be made of coral or of crystal;
the price of wisdom is above pearls.
The chrysolite of Ethiopia cannot compare with it,
nor can it be valued in pure gold.

"Where then does wisdom come from?
And where is the place of understanding?
It is hidden from the eyes of all living,
and concealed from the birds of the air.
Abaddon and Death say,
'We have heard a rumor of it with our ears.'

As well as excerpts from her unpublished memoirs. Very amusing. She was 93 so most people attending the service were like wwwaaayyyy old. I was one of the youngest. Certainly the most youthful and dewy.

Now listening to: Wrapped Up in Books by Belle and Sebastian. There are dozens of them in that band. Weird.

Now, where was I?

2006-02-02T15:20:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I KNOW, it's been like, forever since I posted anything. But I'm back and I'm RARING to go.
You'd better put on your seatbelt...it's going to be a bumpy ride. Yeah.

Well, Christmas has come and gone. It was chilled. I was in Oxford, all alone in my big, cold house. My only solace being an almost limitless supply of food and drink. It was magical.
On Christmas Day, I went to the service at the University Church (http://www.university-church.ox.ac.uk/). It was appalling. The 'music' was catastrophic. It was all very amateurish, but it was a family service so was geared to little children and their proud parents. Sickening. ANYWAY, as anyone who knows me can attest, I HATE the bit of the service in which one offers a sign of friendship (The Peace). I usually just shake hands with the people immediately to my left and right and look menacingly at everyone else. I thought I'd gotten away with it on Christmas Day. But no. Some bint sitting behind me, jabbed her boney finger into my ribs and held out her hand. I grudgingly shook it (I'm no Scrooge, you see) and turned back to face the front. When the service was finally over, I got up to leave but was accosted by the bloody rib-digger. "So, tell me about you". "Fuck off" I thought. I mumbled something about me and tried to extricate myself from the situation. She was having none of it. She told me ALL about her, her husband and her daughter (who was at Cambridge when I was, but I didn't know her. She was at a THIRD rate College (http://www.magd.cam.ac.uk/). Anyway, short story, long, they invited me to have lunch with them and a visiting Columbian 'friend'. It all sounded quite dodgy but I said 'yes' regardless.
Whilst walking with them in Radcliffe Square I was overcome with horror at the predicament in which I now found myself. Fortunately, my phone rang just then to say I had a voicemail. It was Divine Intervention. Nothing less. Oh no. I prayed and the Lord heard my prayer. Whatever. WHATEVER. I used the phone call to say I had to leg it home asap. Whew.

For New Year's Eve, I went to a club called The Egg in King's Cross. Cassius was DJing as were Seb Fontaine and some other guy. It was good fun but very tiring. And not at all cheap.

Off to India in January. Went to Delhi, Jaipur, Agra, Bangalore and several smaller places in between. I didn't get ill at all. Nope. No soupy stools for me. No siree.

Back at work now and I'm finding it deeply tedious. Thank fu ck the weekend is almost here.

Currently listening to: This Modern Love by Bloc Party (http://www.blocparty.com/go.php?object=home)

The Prime Minister, Tony Blair is in Oxford today. He's giving a talk or something at St Antony's College. I'd go but I'm ever so busy and my real friends require my presence elsewhere.

It has been ages since I've been in touch with:

Hot Bescher in D.C. ( I WILL call you back)
Johnny in Panama (I MIGHT visit you)
Brian in D.C. (I DEFINITELY will visit you (and Bescher)
Tuvia in London (you MUST come to Oxford)
Keith in, erm, Yorkshire somewhere (you don't love me anymore!)
Odette in B.C. (I still love you, I'm just a bitch about keeping in touch). Really.

Last Friday, James and I had drinks with Phil and his lady friend and then went on to St Anne's to celebrate Dave's birthday. It was hot. St Anne's College has a high proportion of very attractive people. Not terribly bright but pleasant to look at.

Last Saturday, I went to the Australia Day bop at St Antony's College with James, Max and Chris. We had dinner at Pizza Express first. It was very pleasant. Neither Max nor Chris had been before. They were amazed such places exist. They're from South Africa. Poor simple souls. At the bop, I bumped into Jenny and Aaron from John's. It was good to see them as I'd not seen them in AGES (I blame them entirely) and Jenny invited me to MCR exchange dinner next week. St John's is hosting Catz. The prince and the pauper...

On Sunday, Elly and Sam very kindly invited me to their place for lunch with Martin who was up from London. The German joined us later and the flirting going on between him and Martin was shocking. It was painful to watch. Practically pornographic.

Now listening to: Details of the War by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.

I am so addicted to Facebook it is frightening. I'm also seriously in danger of becoming addicted to Friendster. Help!

On Monday, Christian, the German, Patty and I went to MCR Guest Night at Keble. It was very pleasant. I had Patty on one side which was very pleasant. We chatted about coffee enemas (highly recommended, apparently) and post anal intercourse bowel movements. Highly informative. On the other side, I had some American chick from Boston who was 'nice'. The type of friend your parents would have chosen for you as a child.

Since Monday, I have been working my lovely ass off at work and the gym.

Also, I have decided I ought to make more use of my super-duper computer. I had it upgraded with so much shit it is super-fast and super-powerful. I must be able to use it to make some money, no? Suggestions, please. I could always become an escort, I suppose.

Now listening to: Glory Box by John Martin

Someone has been foolish enough to consent to 'go out' with me. Fool.

I'm back!!!

2006-01-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

I've been to hell and back. Or maybe it was India.

I'll post more in a sec.

My liver...

2005-12-12T19:20:00.000-07:00

hurts.

I KNOW I've not posted in ages but I've been really busy. Really very busy.

Last Friday, I went to Gust night at Magdalen. The food was delicious, all 5 courses and the wine was plentiful. For part of dinner, I had a cock sitting next to me but after we swapped around for dessert, all was well. After dinner, we went to the MCR for mulled wine and I bumped into Chris the South African rugby player and Max, his hot friend I've been corresponding with on Facebook. It was good fun. Jamie, who I know from Caius is one of the MCR Social Secs. and we had a good long chat about how superior Oxford is to Cambridge. After the MCR, some guy from New College MCR we'd been chatting to suggested to go to the Bop there so we did. We're such sheep when alcohol is involved. At the Bop I chatted to random people, stumbled down some stairs bonded with some random American chick who lives opposite me(!) and then went to New College MCR (the ugliest MCR I've been in). That was good fun too.

Finally staggered back home around 4 and looked at my phone when I got up. Noticed I had dialled a number I didn't recognise and texted it saying "Hullo, who are you?". The person replied with their name and asked who I am. Anyway, 8 text messages later, we were having coffee at QI...he turned out to be very pleasant but I was slightly put off as he went to have a shit during our chat. Catastrophic situation.

On Saturday, Mark was in town and Annie, Allyn, Alice, another Mark and I went out on the town. It was pleasant but terribly, terribly alcoholic.

It was the German's birthday on Friday so we went to The Duke for cocktails, dinner at Branca and then cake at the house. Saturday, we were inundated with Germans and assorted non-native speakers of English,, most of whom were catastrophically rude and lacked social skills to am ost alarming degree. Disaster.

On Sunday, I went to the carol service at Magdalen with Barnaby and James and then to Pizza Express for dinner then back to Magdalen MCR for a drink.

This morning, I did something to my back whilst Russian rowing and I am going to sue my boatclub like the good North American I am.

Currently listening to Untouchable by Rialto

The new Harry Potter film isn't as good as previous ones. Snape and McGonagall have the best lines in the book but in the film they get nothing. NOTHING. Potter is an annoying little shit and Ron is incredibly wet and should be made to stop saying "git" and "hell". fucking cock. Dumbledore's accent occilates between Oirish, English and American and he's not the loveable, wooly headed wizard he is in the books. Not he just comes across as a paedophile. Yuck.

Q- What comes in a posh box?

A- David Beckham.

I laughed for days.

Now listening to: Just Can't Get Enough by Nouvelle Vague

'Friday' is the most beautiful...

2005-12-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

word in the English language.

Well, it feels like it this week.

Had the most tedious meeting this morning with some very provincial people. I mean, have these people been to school?

Once again, it's happened...

A likes B
B likes C
C doesn't like B
B won't even look at anyone else but C.
and D just smells.

Catastrophic situation.

Currently listening to: Mr Burton by Amateur Transplants

Will someone in Washington DC please headhunt me? PLEASE?

I'm addicted to this stuff. I've been drinking it like water.

I am not as cruel as Max. Who is teasing one of my great friends mercilessly.

I am not as raunchy as MarketM. Who would like to get raunchy with me. But I keep saying 'no'.

I also don't have time to post or complete those ridiculous quizzes of which they are so fond.

This takes up all my waking hours.

Yet another black tie dinner to attend this evening. Everyone wants a piece of me. That's what comes of being a charming, amusing, attractive guest.

Now listening to: All I Need Is A Miracle by Mike and the Mechanics

The Divine Host...

2005-12-01T10:14:00.000-07:00

Is of course, me. But Jenny is a close second. Dinner at St John's was a fun affair. Lots of booze, good company in the form of St John's and Merton MCRs. Drinks in the MCR followed by dinner in Hall with pleny of booze then back to the MCR for dessert, port and Bailey's. It doesn't get much better.

This evening, is mulled wine and home-made (of course) mince pies at my place.

Currently listening to Beef Jerky by Cibo Matto

Barnaby REFUSED to smell my pits yesterday. I keep telling him I'm very clean and NEVER smell. Ask anyone, I urged him...

I thought the Japanese were supposed ot be demure and defferential? Not the ones at the King's Arms who were bellowing across the pub. Obviously the evil half pint of cider at work.

Term is almost over. Another 3 days and it will be 9th Week. Where has Michaelmas gone? Where has the year gone? Who knows? I just wish everything would slow down a bit.

Max is a bad man. I introduced him to the person he is mocking. Of course I fully support said mockage.

Now listening to: Milkshake by Kellis

This afternoon, I returned the little black dress I've worn on several memorable nights. The bint asked if anything was wrong with it. I replied "there isn't enough room in the crotch area". She just looked at me and said "wot?". Anyway, that's £50 I didn't think I'd see again.

Go Oxford!

2005-11-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

Fucking pikies.

Saw The Constant Gardener last night. Silly name, really. Ralph Feinnes didn't spend nearly enough time in the garden to warrant the title 'constant gardener'. 'Occasional gardener' would have been more fitting. Anyway, the film wasn't as good as Hotel Rwanda. Go see it. I should be on commission.
The whole film experience was marred by a fat man sitting next to me. I like to sprawl out in the cinema with limbs going every-which-way. I like to twist and turn. Contort my lithe, nubile body during a film. I was denied the pleasure last night though. Fat bastard. Fortunately, I had Anthony C (who bizarrely, had a bouffant hair-do) on the other side of me so I was able to invade his space.

Currently listening to: Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin

Work is becoming increasingly tedious. It cuts into the things I'd rather be doing like sleeping, going to the gym, having coffee with people, drinking during the day, staying out all night with drugs and drink and loose wo(men). I need to win the lottery big-stylee. I'd be self-improving myself left and right. A course here, a class there. Little jaunts to Florence and NYC to take in the culture and sample the locals. But no. It is not to be.

The problem with not working is that I'd get frightfully bored. I like my job most days, just not lately. I am also sorely underpaid. I knew working in the public sector was the wrong move. Still, at least I'm making a difference in the world. I'll just keep telling myself that. Yeah. It'll make it all better.

Fuck that. The feel-good factor doesn't pay the bills. Does it?

Now listening to: These Are The Things by Black Box Recorder

This evening, I'm dining at St John's. Should be good. I hope. Thank you Jenny.

Thursday is mulled wine and mince pies at my place for the dinner-off crew (see a post from April/May?).

Friday is MCR Guest Night at Magdalen. Thank you Barnaby.

Saturday I will pickle myself as Mark K is in town for the evening/next morning. Annie, Alice, some random Mark and maybe Allyn are going out on the town. We'll show the undergrads how to party. Yeah we will.

Best description of someone ever: "Body by Baywatch, face by Crimewatch". Hilarious.

Was lurking outside the bathroom this morning waiting for The Belgian to emerge. And emerge she did. Towel around the waist but tits hanging out. What a beautiful image with which to start my day. It was positively bowel-loosening. I'm sure SOME sickos would have appreciated it but not me. No sir. Disgusting.

Now listening to: Saturday Night by Suede. Damn good band.

Had my hair cut today. I look dashing. Even more so than usual.

You know there is something very wrong when the sun sets at 15:30. I mean...WTF?!

Coup...

2005-11-29T04:46:00.000-07:00

There has been a coup (of all things) in Canadia! I knew my people would rise up against the tyranny...Yay!

Currently listening to: O Canada (the national anthem).

The last few days have been hard on my liver. Oh so hard...

On Friday, Chapelboy, Chapelboy's visiting cousin and James the Singer came around for supper. The meal was, as usual the best thing they'd ever tasted. The accolades were coming thick and fast and after a while (admittedly, a long while) it just got embarrassing. We drank an awful lot. If we'd stuck to wine, we'd have been fine but we moved on to spirits and that's what did for us. Choirboy and cousin left around 1:30 and James left around 2:30. It was a very pleasant night.
The highlight, well, for me, anyway was when Chapelboy removed his sweater and his t-shit went with it. OMG is all I can say. I think my jaw may have visibly dropped.

Now listening to: Love Machine by Girls Aloud

Up at 6 on Saturday morning to make our way to IKEA and then Dover to catch the ferry to Calais. A word of advice, if you've never been on a P&O ferry- don't. It was diabolical. It was quite possibly the largest gathering of chavs I'd ever seen. And, AND, they were immensely fat and spent the voyage shovelling lard into their mouths. MEGA-sized full-fat soft-drinks in one hand, deep-fried lumps of lard in the other. It has to be seen to be believed. Really. I thought I'd seen it all, but then there was the voyage back...SeaFrance is the way forward. Certainly the way to France.

Anyway, in Calais, we went to several booze emporiums, ate at a catastrophically mediocre restaurant and came back laden with over 100 bottles of wine, 4 bottles of vodka, 3 bottles of gin, 3 bottles of whiskey, 3 bottles of port, 24 bottles of good champagne, 24 bottles of slightly less good champagne, jam, nibbly things for the party, beer, and a bag of brioches for me. I rock. Oh yes I do!

Bit of a sticky moment at the Immigration check thing in Dover though. We were in a German car and the Immigration Man asked how long we were staying in the UK. The German didn't know what to say so he said "indefinitely". The Immigration Man didn't like that one bit. No sir...he didn't.

On Sunday, I took myself off to Chapel (without Barnaby who has missed most of the services this term and is surely going to Hell as a consequence) and had Chapelboy sitting next to me. Sadly, Chapelboy smelt of cooking odours. But I still fancied him, obviously. Obviously. After Chapel, James invited me to MCR brunch. Disappointing at best. So much carbohydrate but little else. After that, we went to the Grand Cafe (nice room, terribly over-priced though and you get treated like shit if you only want coffee).

Now listening to: Tomorrow by Slightly Drawn

On Sunday evening, Sweet Barnaby, Lovely Annie and I went to the Advent Service in Magdalen Chapel. It was soporific. After the service, we and James went to Cafe Zouk for supper (mediocre food, worse service. Everyone always raves about Cafe Zouk but it's, like, waaayyy over-rated and over-priced). After supper we went to the bar in Pizza Express (good room, cosy by night, light and airy by day) for a drink and then on to G & D's opposite Christ Church for something sweet.

Monday morning was spent on the river. It was an average outing. The best thing about it was that the river was deserted.

Observations:

-The LRB has the best personals column ever. Absolutely hilarious.
-I am FINALLY off the newsstands as a new issue of Attitude is out.
-I am not terribly enamoured by my job. I'm hoping this is just a phase.
-I am no one's type.
-I miss my parents (I will, of course, never admit this to them).
-I am the best dressed person I know. Just kidding! (or am I)?
-The fatter the people, the smaller the clothes they choose to wear.
-It is difficult to be vegetarian in France.
-Facebook is the best thing ever.
-Friendster, not so much.
-Fat people obviously don't know that black is slimming, preferring instead to clothe themselves in garish pink and lime green. Fools.
-The Belgians are a strange people.
-I am always cold.

Now listening to: God Save The Queen (England is my home now, you see?)

To help pass the time...

2005-11-25T13:08:00.000-07:00

Things are on the up...

2005-11-25T13:02:00.000-07:00

I've been suffering from a fuck-off HUGE abscess on my gum(s) (I'm never sure if it's plural or not) for the last few days. I rang up my doctor, barely able to speak to ask for an appointment. The bitch said 'no'. NO?! I mean, what the fuck. Why do I pay such exorbitant taxes? Certainly not for some sour-faced bint to say 'no' when I am in serious pain. This would never have happened in my beloved Canadia. I'd have rung my doctor, he'd have said, 'as it's an emergency, come by whenever and I'll squeeze you in'. I'd have left the office in less pain, clutching a prescription for some subsidised drugs and my doctor would have made $50 in 10 minutes. But not in this country. My doctor is of the grin and bear it school of medicine. Fucking bitch.

ANYWAY, the dentist sorted me out. I had to go private but it was worth it.

Off to France tomorrow for cheap booze! Yay! (more than one exclamation mark is so common).

The new series of Little Britain is slightly disappointing. Ting Tong the Thai Bride is not as amusing as I'd hoped.

I think MarketMosley and I should team up to write a pilot a la Jerry and George in Seinfeld. It would be, like, the best thing ever.

Currently listening to April Fools by Rufus Wainwright

This evening, hot chapel boy is coming around for supper. I'm quite looking forward to it. For a South African, he's pretty amusing and didn't object to me giving him sartorial advice (he had far too many buttons done up on his suit).

On Sunday, I think I'm marshalling for the Isis Winter League. I have marshalled in Cambridge but it can't be that different can it? Can it? I hope so. Marshalling in Cambridge was a disaster. I ended causing collisions rather than preventing them.

This isn't directed at anyone in particular but you are the stupidest person I've ever met AND you're really fucking dull.

Now listening to some track by 'Clap Your Hands Say Yeah'. Good band.

Facebook is addictive. I mean it. I spent more hours on Facebook than I did at the gym or on the river this week. Not good. What if I become one of those FAT people I keep seeing? That would be truly catastrophic.

People I miss and have been thinking about a lot:

-Johnny McK (my liver has been almost healthy since you left)
-Oli W (I plucked you from obscurity)
-Tristan J (we shared a toilet seat for a year)
-Helen T (my neighbour in my first year at Cambridge)
-Ed S (filthy, filthy, filthy)
-David P (filthier, filthier, filthier)
-Brian N (my partner in debauchery in DC)
-Mark B (my soon to be partner in debauchery in DC)

I used to spend a lot of time with these people and now they've all gone and left me. They are scattered, variously, around the globe and I don't like it. No, I don't like it one bit. Fuckers.

The political situation in The Gabon is bad. Real bad. Of course, it's gotten worse since the so-called 'election' in 1993.

I don't actually know anything about the political situation in The Gabon but I thought I should say something vaguely political as most people do in their blogs. Besides, The Gabon is in Africa, which says it all, doesn't it? I could have pretty much substituted ANY African country for Gabon...

Now listening to: Gloria from Mozart's Coronation Mass

2 in two days...

2005-11-22T17:01:00.000-07:00

The woman next to me is eating to most pungent lunch ever. It's making me ill. I might have to have a word...

Currently listening to: 'Home on Ice' by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

On Saturday, the German and I are off to France for a booze-cruise. Should be good fun. I LOVE France and even the French. I particularly admire their "fuck you" attitude to things...this isn't always appropriate I know but it usually is. Ah...la belle France.

This evening I'm off to the cinema with Phil. Phil's brother is convinced that I'm in love with Phil but it simply isn't true. I'm actually in love with Phil's brother. Nothing like keeping it in the family. Not really! I think Phil (and maybe his brother) might be ever so slightly dirty. And we all know how I feel about that, don't we?

Yesterday, Annie and I had lunch at Georgina's (where else?) . The food is good and cheap (again) and we were secretly hoping (well, not so secretly) that a certain fellow patron would be there. It didn't smell of damp so we knew he hadn't been in a while.

Now listening to: 'Tidal Wave' by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

I fucking hate it when people excuse fatness by saying 'it's glandular'. If they put the lard down and took some exercise, they'd be taking some responsibility for their fat arses.

Everyone is on Facebook. EVERYONE. It's weird who knows who too. I've only been adding people who really are friends to my friends list but it seems that the done thing is to add anyone you've ever seen, spoken with, pissed on etc...I've taken great pleasure and delight in turning down friend requests though. Sad fuckers.

On Sunday, I'm off to an Advent Carol service followed by Formal Hall at Magdalen with Annie, courtesy of the lovely Barnaby. I'm such a Formal Hall whore. At Cambridge, I managed to squeeze in all but 1 Formal Hall in my time there. The one that eluded me was Lucy Cavendish. Lesbo Cavendish...I'm not terribly gutted though.

Now listening to: Cantare e D'Amore by Amedeo Minghi

Amnesia...

2005-11-21T07:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know I haven't posted in AGES and to be honest, the last couple of weeks have been so alcohol fuelled that I don't really remember much of what happened. The bits I CAN remember include:

drinking rather a lot
wishing Johnny was still in Oxford or at least London (bastard)
drinking rather a lot
being de-friended (I didn't really like him, anyway)
drinking rather a lot
black tie dinner at Green College and strutting my stuff on the dancefloor (thank you, Phil)
drinking rather a lot
crashing the Union free booze event (thank you, Barnaby)
drinking rather a lot
committing dine and dash (not THAT serious a misdemeanour, surely?)
drinking rather a lot
meeting up with old friends (I miss you)
drinking rather a lot
going to Wadham Queer Bop (thank you, Wadham and gays)
drinking rather a lot
going to Avi's birthday party and being chatted up by the prettiest girl there ('nuff said)
drinking rather a lot
being referred to as "Cambridge guy, the sex fiend" (thank you, Piss-boy)
drinking rather a lot
being told that I'm not what a sex fiend is supposed to look like (thank you, Piss-boy's hot, yet common, friend)
drinking rather a lot
dining at Harris Manchester (thank you, CrazyKat)
drinking rather a lot
discovering a fantastic band called 'Clap Your Hands Say Yeah'
drinking rather a lot
being told I am the best cook in Oxford (thank you, Jack/House)
drinking rather a lot
bonding with Chapel boy (thank you, my own SPECIAL brand of charm)
drinking rather a lot
being rude to several people who absolutely deserved to incur my wrath (thank YOU)
drinking rather a lot

It really is a catastrophic situation, I can't remember anything more so you'll just have to be content with the above.

What would you make of this:

"The reason that I haven't been in touch as of late is because I haven't felt too comfortable with our friendship recently. I thought it would be best to lay low and let things pass, but you seem to want more of an explanation, and so I hope that you will accept this. I don't want to sound overly cryptic, but I don't really think a discussion about why I am feeling uncomfortable would be useful. I understand, however, that you may not have any idea why I would be feeling this way, or perhaps you might think that I am reading this situation completely 'wrong', but nonetheless I hope that you will respect my feelings. I certainly don't hold anything against you, and wish you only the best, but I don't think our friendship is really working - for me, in any case."

I mean, what the fuck? I've never been unfriended (disfriended?) before. I am completely in the dark, I am out to sea, I am simply confused (I could go on...)...he doesn't want to sound overly cryptic?!

Currently listening to: 'Details of the War' by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Currently wearing: many layers. It's freakin' freezing in Oxford
Currently wishing: I was wearing many more layers. It's really freakin' freezing in Oxford

MarketMosley has come back on the market (did you see what I did there? Did you? Oh never mind...)...ladies, snap this man up. He won't be available forever...

Now listening to: 'Over and Over Again' by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

G.L.G...

2005-11-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

Gays Love Glam. Oh yes they do!

Last night was spent celebrating the lovely Annie's birthday. It started out quite well. Quod, then cocktails at Baby Love...lots of beautiful people including the one Annie and I have been following around town. He turned out to be extremely catastrophic. How could we have been so wrong? AND he smelt of damp.
Anyway, Annie, Alyn, Simon and I drank and chatted and laughed and danced and met some interesting people. We then met Sebastian and Jason. It all went to hell after that, though.

Annie and Sebastian bonded upstairs and Jason and I bonded downstairs. After the wonderfully Sapphic doorwoman chucked us out at 2am, we decided to go back to my place to continue the revelry. That's when it really went to shit. Really.

Jason, who was quite reasonable morphed into a twat and proceeded to have a go at Alyn (who's a gurl by the way). It was painful to watch. Instead of just knocking back the Ratzeputz and munching toast, he went on and on and on about absolute nonsense.

Anyway, they finally left at 4am and I crawled into bed and went all foetal. I like going all foetal sometimes. Very comforting position in which to sleep.

Feel gross this morning and look worse.

Before I met up with Annie last night, I saw Hot Bescher. It was thrilling. He hasn't changed at all. Maybe a few extra pounds around the midsection but otherwise, same old Hot Bescher. Hopefully he, his brother, Jenny and Aaron will come along to Hallow'Queen at St Antony's tomorrow. That'll be beyond hot. The German and I are going frock shopping tomorrow. I'm thinking a little black number to go with my feather boa and some fish-nets. And a cigarette holder. I'd look so fucking hot, man. I had a blast last year despite not remembering most of it. I DO remember people coming up to me in the street for weeks afterwards (and in one case, 10 months afterwards) saying I looked like I was having a good time at Hallow'Queen and please never touch me there or like that again. I keep telling them, being tactile is a GOOD thing! A GOOD THING!!!

Currently listening to: I Believe in You by Kylie Minogue. Happy, happy, happy!

Think I might shave my chest this evening. Thoughts?

Do they love me too?

2005-11-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

Pronunciation...

2005-11-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

Pronunciation...

Once again, I almost came to blows over the pronunciation of Moet & Chandon.

It is NOT, as is commonly believed, pronounced MO-AY.

The correct pronunciation is Mo-ET.

Yes, you do pronounce the "t" at the end and no, it's not French, it's a Dutch word.

Understand?

Currently listening to: Sunday Part I by Cibo Matto.

McKinsey...

2005-11-02T18:21:00.000-07:00

Ugh...I feel rough. Went to the McKinsey recruitment think yesterday. It was a good laugh. Josh and I reminisced about Cambridge days and generally caught up with what we were up to. Chatted to a few McKinsey people and a few Oxford people I'd not met but recognised. The evening started with drinks, followed by dinner then an open bar. An OPEN bar. It was wonderful. People tentatively asked for G & Ts, pints, whiskey etc...it all went to hell when people started asking for bottles of champagne. A good night. Yes...a very good night.

I'm suffering now, though. I suffered most of the night in fact. Catastrophic night's sleep.

Selfridges is like, waaaayyyy better than Saks, Neimans, Macy's, Harrods etc...despite what Gene the KcKinsey partner says.

Currently listening to: I Melt With You by Nouvelle Vague.

Had lunch at Magdalen with Ivan, who is possibly the slowest eater on the planet. I won't be making that mistake again. I dread to think what would happen if he was faced with a 3 course meal (the norm at my house, although I sometimes skip the cheese board. Actually).

This evening, I'm off to chapel at Magdalen. The music is Faure's Requiem (in honour of All Soul's Day) which is sublime. After chapel, I might go to Patty's yoga class and then grad drinks which will be diabolically, wrist-slashingly boring but MIGHT be good. Might.

I am still reeling from Hetracil. Only in the States...

Now listening to: Your Secrets by Belle & Sebastian. I wish they'd do another album.

Saw this and thought of you...

2005-11-02T11:29:00.000-07:00

Manners...

2005-11-01T17:08:00.000-07:00

I used to think no one apart from me wrote thank you cards/notes anymore until I received a charming card from House today. I say "House" but he'll respond to any name I choose. And like it, too. Thank you House.

On Friday, Anthony came 'round for supper. I had a very pleasant evening and I hope he did too. We chatted about this and that and realised we know lots of people in common. He also introduced me to some great websites. On Saturday, I woke up with a mega hangover and steeled myself to face the morons who clog up the streets of Oxford on a Saturday. I was on a mission to find a suitable costume for Tuvia's Hallowe'en party. In the end, I went as a surgeon. I borrowed some scrubs, acquired by Kat from the hospital (she's a medic), a lab coat acquired by Alice from the Biochemistry Department(she's a Biochemist) , I purchased a fake stethoscope and a HUGE plastic syringe (I'm a consumerist) . I had myself a name-tag that read "Dr Love" and off I went. Surprisingly, everyone apart from 1 person was in fancy dress. That one person was ostracised and made to feel ridiculous and very small. Poor him. Anyway, there were lots of Vampires/Draculas (Draculii?) and a large number of gladiators. It was very homoerotic. I like a bit of homoeroticism.

Currently listening to Facts of Life by Black Box Recorder. Such and under-rated band.

I met some interesting people at the party. There were a few lawyers, a few investment bankers, a few doctors, a few students and several people who did nothing at all. Oh...to be a Trustafarian. Fuckers.

On the oxford Tube, I strategically placed myself next to the rowing boy I've been stalking. He has amazing arms but his shoes were truly catastrophic. Diabolical, even. We had a long chat about rowing, our subjects, iPods etc... and swapped numbers.

Staggered back to Oxford on Sunday morning at 10am and raced to chapel. The preacher was the Chaplain of Hertford College who was at Cambridge at the same time I was and knows a few people I know. It's freaky the way that keeps happening. I met her after the Tyndale Lecture last week at drinks at the Warden's Lodgings at Hertford. She asked if I always slurred my speech (I was slightly drunk) and I asked if she always looked so Sapphic. Anyway, she preached (praught?) very thoughtfully and sent me a lovely email the next day saying we must get together sometime. I suggested coffee. She replied saying she doesn't like coffee but does love pints(!). That's my kind of Chaplain.

Spent the first 10 minutes at work today watching one of my colleagues pick his nose. I tried to look away but I was transfixed. There is something strangely mesmerising about someone picking their nose.

BESCHER IS ARRIVING ON THURSDAY!!!

Hot! Hot!! Hot!!!

This evening, I'm going to a McKinsey recruitment event at Exeter College. I don't want to work for McKinsey, of course, I'm just going to see Josh who I've not seen in ages. Josh was at Cambridge when I was and he skipped off to McKinsey after Part III Maths and is now the lgbt rep type person. Should be good fun. House is going as are a few other pleasant people.

Now listening to: Tongue by R.E.M.
Now looking: very stripy.
Now feeling: very ropey.

"Yours is beautiful...

2005-10-27T15:47:00.000-07:00

country, Honeychurch."

Isn't A Room With A View a wonderful book? The film is excellent as well- Judi Dench, Helena Bonham-Carter, Rupert Graves, good soundtrack, stunning scenery...it doesn't get much better.

Or does it?

Well, today, I think Oxford rivals it. It is a beautiful day. Not even remotely autumnal. Practically summer. It has reduced me to speaking in sentence fragments...

Saw Broken Flowers last night. It was pretty good. Bill Murray is pretty good in pretty much everything. How pretty.

This morning, I awoke with sore arms. I think I overdid it with the weights. I did this exercise whereby you lie on your back on a bench and holding a dumbbell in each hand, raise your hands over your head so they are parallel to the floor. It kills but I'm convinced it's doing some good. I will soon have arms of Anthony H proportions. I will then be content. But not until. Oh no...I will not rest.

Anyway, despite my sore arms, I had a good outing this morning. The coach really worked us. Up and down the river, at a rate of 26 strokes/minute which may not seem fast but when you're going up and down the river, it's knackering. Up and down, up and down, up and freakin' down. OUCH! Felt good though. I'm such a sadist.

Had lunch at Balliol today. The food was excellent, as it usually is. Lentil and sweet potato thing, salad and chocolate tiffin. Yummy. Balliol Hall is very pretty. High ceiling, organ, fireplace, really wide. Everything a Hall should have/be.

Currently listening to: Have A Nice Day by Stereophonics.

My Jaffa Cake addiction has been replaced by a Nutella addiction. I've ALWAYS liked Nutella but now I've discovered that you don't actually have to spread it on anything to enjoy it. You can just eat it out of the jar with a spoon. Using my fingers would just be wrong. Nutella is HUGE is Italy. Weird. I'd have thought they'd have their own version. You KNOW what Italians are...

This weekend I'm off to London for Tuvia's Hallowe'en party. I'm supposed to be wearing a costume but I'm not sure what. I'm thinking a suit, with a few buttons undone with a Superman T-shirt underneath. Clark Kent in case you were wondering. There is a really good Superman T-shirt at Zara which would be ideal. Good or no?

Alternatively, a Venetian nobleman. I've always wanted one of those ornate masks with the big beaks. But what to wear with said mask?

Now listening to Creep (Radiohead) but the The Cure cover version.Yes, that sentence is grammatically correct and the word "the" has not been repeated unnecessarily. So there. I am nothing if not grammatical.

Tomorrow, Anthony H is coming 'round for supper. I trust he'll be dazzled by my culinary skills.

I'm not sure I like Anthony H though...
"a copy of maurice, which i sadly did not take to london with me yesterday, preferring instead to read about the english court."

Preferring to read about the English Court? Catastrophic!

Now sitting: in utter disbelief.

We must, we must...

2005-10-26T21:57:00.000-07:00

we must improve our bust...

After having quite the worst outing on the river on Monday, I've been hitting the gym hard-core. I spent 30 minutes on the erg, followed by 30 minutes on the Ladymaker. The 'Ladymaker' is my name for the cross trainer thing on which men never look good despite providing a really good work-out. Then some leg exercises. Today it's an upper body day...maybe shoulders and chest. I'll soon look like Joan Collins with HUGE shoulder pads a la Dynasty or perhaps Dolly Parton. I'm not fussed.

Anyway, I feel much better for putting myself through the paces at the gym. A good session at the gym makes a crap day feel just a bit less crap.

Have booked my flight to India in January. 3 weeks of iodine tablets, anti-malarial pills, dysentery, poverty etc...should be good though.

Currently listening to Agnus Dei from Schubert's Mass in G.

My Jaffa Cake addiction seems to be in hand. I've not had a single one in over a week, which is the longest I've gone without one. Fingers crossed and all that. This means so much to me and my family and friends. I hope I don't fall off the wagon.

Actually it doesn't really mean anything at all to me. I can quit whenever I want to.

Had a drink with Ivan yesterday at The King's Arms. Double Chocolate Ale is cheap and good. If only everything could be the same. We had a good long chat about this and that and decided we should go out together but quickly discounted that idea.

Good lyrics:

"Went to a party
Danced all night
Drank 16 beers
Started up a fight"

Sounds better sung in a French accent.

Now listening to: Friday Night, Saturday Morning by Nouvelle Vague.

Tuesday, Tuesday...

2005-10-25T17:55:00.000-07:00

Tuesday...

What a non-day. Monday is torturous. Wednesday is hump-day (half-way through the week), Thursday, the weekend approaches, Friday, the weekend is so close, you can almost taste it...
Tuesday is nothing. It's bland-day. Non-day. Un-day...etc...

My Friday night was pleasant, I think. I don't actually remember what I did, but it must have been good.

Saturday was SPECIAL. Got off to a lazy start but it picked up pretty damn quickly. Met up with Mark K and dozens of his family for drinks at the Eagle and Child. It was good to see him again. Also in attendance, were Diarmaid and a couple of his mates, one of whom I've been emailing in a professional capacity who'd I'd not met in person. He interviewed Mark for his place on the Mst course and Diariamid was his Supervisor. Anyway, we (Annie and I) had a drink with them then decided we were hungry so we went to the Duke of Cambridge for a liquid supper. The Perfect Manhattans really are perfect. Practically ambrosial. Several cocktails later, we were making our way to the lovely Phil's place for drinks. We met some interesting people (1 freak though) including a Finn we had trouble shaking off and a very pleasant Canadian with good glasses and tie, with whom I swapped numbers. Anyway, we stayed there for a while (neat rum is not SMOOTH. Oh no...it BURNS), then made our way to The Royal Oak where Annie was meeting up with a friend who was back for Graduation and I was meeting up with Diarmaid. Again. This time, we had the Finn in tow. I chatted to him and Diarmaid and Annie was chatted up by a not unattractive but exceeding dull chap. I introduced the Finn to Diarmaid and mumbled something about needing the loo and went over to say hello to Annie who implored me to stay and not leave her with the freak.

Me: "So, what do you do?"
Him: "I'm a Project Manager."
Me: "Sounds interesting. What does that entail?"
Him: "I manage projects, mate."

That clears that right up, then.

He obviously sussed that Annie wasn't interested (vacuous but perceptive) and wandered off.

Arrival of Phil, Ladyfriend and assorted Green College people, including the freak...who wasn't really a freak just a bit unusual.

We decided that we really did need some food, so we canvassed opinion about where would be open and close by at 10 on a Saturday night, that wasn't a van. The freak suggested a "really good place, just over there...it's called 'Brown's'. It does really good food and it's open..." It was at that point that I cut him short and told him I knew exactly where and what Brown's is and don't be such a stupid fuck. We legged it to The Standard instead. We were starving and he was practically rubbing himself against Annie who was not impressed.

After The Standard, we headed to the Jericho Tavern...

It was 15 Minutes of Fame at The Tavern. DJs turn up and spin tunes (choones) for 15 minutes. It was a good laugh. Annie and I were boogieing away when we noticed a hot little thing dancing away. He looked good. I went over to him to say hullo. Turns out hot boy is training to be vicar. A fucking vicar. His almost as hot friend (who fancied Annie) is also training to be a vicar. We couldn't believe it. They are clearly going to be the hottest vicars in the C of E. I think a conversion is imminent..."no, no...we BOTH need to be naked for my baptism...".

So, was chatting to trainee vicar:

Me: "so, where were you before you came to Oxford?"
Him: "A college in London."
Me: "Oh? Which one?"
Him: "You won't have heard of it."
Me: "Oh, I'm sure I have; what's it called"?
Him: "Imperial College."
Me: "Imperial College?...no, I haven't heard of it."

Imperial fucking College...I ask you...

Such a sweetie! If anyone else had said that, I'd have told them exactly what I thought of them, but Matt the trainee vicar is just too, too sweet.

Currently listening to: Talkin' Bout a Revolution (sic) by Tracy Chapman

CHOONES!!!

Wait...

Have remembered what I did on Friday night. Had supper with Eli and Sam, Martin (who was in town for the night), Barnaby, Corin and Clary. Supper, was, as usual, delicious (I am the king of commas). We ate (Eli is such an amazing cook), drank and chatted. It was good catching up with Martin who I really don't see often enough. In Cambridge, we used to speak to one another almost daily but now that he's in London and I'm in Oxford, we don't speak nearly enough. I see far too much of Millar though...

Now listening to: Whir by Smashing Pumpkins

If anyone is feeling generous and has some spare cash, could they please buy a bottle of Dior Homme for me?

Magnet...

2005-10-21T17:13:00.000-07:00

is my new favourite musician. Check his stuff out. Clever lyrics, gentle sounds. What is it about Scandinavian musicians being able to produce these amazing sounds?

Lay Lady Lay...beautiful song.

I had a SUBLIME evening yesterday. Annie came 'round for supper. We ate, we drank, we laughed, we cried, we made merry. Okay, we didn't cry but we did everything else. We had as much fun as it's possible to have with your clothes on. After dinner, we headed to the City Tavern for jazz. It was wicked. Good music, good crowd. After jazz, we headed to St Cross and drank the most expensive whiskey I've ever drunk. It was like, £10/shot or something equally ridiculous. It was worth it though. It caressed the inside of my mouth...

Today, I woke up with the worst hangover since the hangover that greeted me on Tuesday morning. Not good.

Currently listening to: I Believe in You by Kylie Minogue. Such a happy song.

Some of my favourite things:

Bourbon
Jazz
Throaty chuckles emanating from gravelly voiced women
Fuck-me boots
Sobranie cigarettes being smoked by women wearing fuck-me boots
Little black dresses worn by women wearing fuck-me boots. Sobranie in one hand, bourbon in the other. Head thrown back in laughter at my endless flow of witticisms

The picture could only be sexier if said little black dress-wearing smoker was using a cigarette holder...

Hmmmm.

Now listening to: Too Drunk to Fuck by Nouvelle Vague.

I wonder what the male equivalent of fuck-me boots is?

Now listening to: Lay Lady Lay by Magnet. Again.

Shockin'!

2005-10-19T19:04:00.000-07:00

It seems lots of people don't know who William Tyndale is. (Was). Shame on you.

Yesterday, I had the best shift at the pub ever. Good staff, not too busy, gentle customers...

This evening , Federico and Jamie are coming around to supper. The German is hoping for some bedroom action (him and Jamie) but it's not going to happen, thankfully. I'll see to that. I could be such a mood killer, verily, the Anti-Viagra, when I want to be. If the German and Jamie need, erm, the 'bathroom' at the same time, I'll know why.

Currently listening to: Wild World by Beth Orton

It's been a bizarre day of music. I've been listening to songs I know well but sung by people who didn't popularise them. For example, Come on Eileen sung by The Cure rather than Dexy's Midnight Runners and Mad World sung by Gary Jules instead of Tears for Fears. The more recent versions are often better than the originals. Although, when it comes to films, sequels are rarely as good as the originals.

This weekend Mark K is in town for graduation! I can't tell you how thrilling this is for me. I miss Mark more than I thought I would. It's only been a few months since he left Oxford but it seems like ages. He is one of the 'nicest' people I know, and in his case, 'nice' doesn't = boring. We'd often meet up for coffee at 5 o'clock and 8 hours later find ourselves at Hassan's in Broad Street, barely able to stand but giggling like schoolgirls. Ah...good times.
His people are coming with him so I've been told to be on my best behaviour. We'll see...we shall see...

Now listening to: Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B Hawkins

Dampness. It's not a good thing. On Monday at pink drinks and G Bar, lots of the gays smelt damp. The damp smell in question results from clothes being left in the washing machine after they've been washed (I do this quite often). The only way to get rid of the smell is to re-wash them. This fact seems to be eluding the gays. Everywhere I turned, I'd be confronted with the stench of dampness. I do NOT have a sniffing fetish but the room was so tightly packed, I couldn't help but sniff people as I passed.

It's raining and I don't have an umbrella or a jacket. Fuck.

My hero...

2005-10-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

Any William Tyndale worshippers out there? Get in touch and we'll worship together.

Currently listening to: Mr Brightside by The Killers.

What the guidebooks don't tell you...

2005-10-18T17:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had lunch at St Cross with Annie. It was one of the best college lunches I've ever had. You get a choice of 2 soups and various breads and bread products, a main course and fruit or yoghurt or cheese board and tea or coffee.

The food was very good, the dining hall is light and airy and the people are friendly. Why can't restaurants be like this?

Anyway, the guy sitting next to me was at Darwin College, Cambridge (which has one of the best bars in Cambridge) and he described Cambridge as a prostitute and Oxford as a meaningful relationship. Cambridge offers everything it has at first glance. It's all there, laid out for you to enjoy. Oxford reveals things slowly. You have to discover them. You stumble across them randomly.

It's a very good analogy, I think. Cambridge...that old whore...

Went to pink-drinks at Magdalen yesterday. They were held in the Oscar Wilde Room. Oscar Wilde was an Irish poet and playwright . He attended Magdalen College but then ended up in prison for buggery. That law has been scrapped though.

At drinks I chatted to 2 of the pleasant people I met at drinks last Monday and a new pleasant person. The two pleasant people from last week were even more pleasant this week (despite being a good deal more sober), the third pleasant person was very, very pleasant.
Annie came along to drinks too. I THINK she enjoyed herself. Lots of lesbians were eyeing her up. Looking her up and down. Undressing her with their eyes. I know I was.

Not really!

After drinks, which were, once again, heaving, we went to G Bar. (4 commas in one sentence and not a single one extraneous). It was okay. I was given the "it's not you, it's me" talk. Apparently, I'm a "great guy" (what the fuck does that mean?). It's almost as insulting as saying someone has a wonderful personality. As in "He's not very attractive but he has a wonderful personality". To make matters worse, he kept apologising. I was like, "Dude, it's okay. Don't worry about it. Really". I clearly didn't mean it but it's best to be grown-up about these things.

Currently listening to: Forever Young by Alphaville

I posted my parents presents for their birthdays which were last week. Fucking Canada Post charged them $33 in Duty! Fucking cheek. I couldn't believe it.

Yesterday at the pub, we had a team-building thing for a couple of hours. We sampled the new menu and tried some wines so we could describe them to customers. One of the activities was to name our favourite song and film. I was stumped. How do you choose just one song? I have a favourite song of the day or week, but how do you choose your favourite song EVER? I didn't fare much better when it came to naming my favourite film either. Stoopid activity.

Now listening to: Strict Machine by Goldfrapp

PS...

2005-10-18T16:10:00.000-07:00

Our outing on the river was catastrophic. Our cox hadn't grasped the concept of the "rudder". The "rudder" is used to steer the boat. The concept of "steering" seemed foreign to her too. She didn't seem to understand that it simply isn't done to row into another boat. Boats are expensive and boaties, despite our bulging (ahem) muscles are delicate flowers. Anyway, we had several near misses, some clashing of blades and several "hold it up, HOLD IT UP...oh, fuck, fuck...aaarrrggghhhs".

Currently listening to: Huddle Formation by The Go! Team (very underrated. Have a listen).

Had lunch with Annie today at Georgina's. Had my usual quiche platter. My Waldorf salad is better than theirs. So there. I add a SECRET ingredient, only I know about.

Annie was chatted up by a girl at G Bar yesterday. There is something inherently wrong when my straight ladyfriend gets hit on in a room full of homosexualists but I don't! There is no justice in the world. Admittedly, Annie IS very sexy but still...I'm asking for a refund on that freakin' rohyphnol. I remain barren.

Pumpkin seeds are addictive.

Currently listening to: Straight Life by Black Box Recorder. Strangely appropriate.

Weekend, Book 1

2005-10-17T17:45:00.000-07:00

The weekend has flown by.

Friday, I had the most horrific 'date' ever. The problem is, I got my hopes up...6'2, blond, muscular, blue eyes. I mean, how hot is that? Well, not terribly, really. I prefer dark hair but everyone expects blond and blue-eyed to be attractive so I suppose it is, by default. Anyway, rocked up to the appointed place at the appointed time and almost hurled.
6'2: yes
blond: yes
muscular: yes
blue eyes: yes

What the fucker neglected to mention was the DUVET of FAT covering said muscular frame. The thing is, it was a shock but I thought to myself "well, he might be really witty and amusing and charming". How fucking wrong was I? I gave it two hours of my very precious and in demand time and legged it.

Saturday: Went to the Duke of Cambridge for a few cocktails with Annie and Alice. Very pleasant despite being very crowded. There should be an undergrad hour and a happy hour and never the twain shall meet. We sat in a booth...me in the middle, a honey on either side. It was hot. I felt just like a RAP star. All I need now is a few bullet wounds and my transformation will be complete. I'd like to thank my manager and all the fans who bought my records. I'd like to thank my mamma for believing in me but most of all, I'd like to thank God without whom, none of this would have been possible. Peace out.

BANG, BANG!!!

As I was returning to the bar, laden with cocktails, I heard someone say "He was at Cambridge!". I turned to look and it was John! John and I lived in the same building in Newnham for a while. He's very pleasant and I really fancied him that year. I'd often hear him on the phone arguing with his girlfriend. Oh, if only he'd known how happy I could have made him. He was in town for the day with his girlfriend who was an undergrad at Oxford. He's now a solicitor in London and is still HOT.
Anyway, after cocktails we went to Jamals for dinner. Jamals is popular with large groups of students. There were large groups of students there on Saturday night. Oh yes...an entire boat club. They were noisy and twattish and did press-ups next to our table. However, nothing could prepare me for the sight of one of their number hurling into an empty water jug. It was fucking disgusting. I was ready to wretch.

The table next to ours was occupied by two miserable looking women. We thought they were on a date but the fact that they spoke not one word to one another made me think otherwise. If it was a date, it was worse than mine on the previous day. One of them kept glaring at the boaties and the other just kept shovelling curry into her cave-like mouth.

At the end of the meal, the waiter brought over some complimentary ice-cream. It wasted like a Glade Plug-in. For the third time in two days, I almost hurled. It was quite possibly one of the most disgusting things I've ever tasted. It wasn't even so bad that it was good. It went Wwwwaaaayyyy beyond that. It crossed the line that is rarely crossed. Indeed, it crossed the line that should NEVER be crossed.

After dinner we went back to the lovely Annie's room to drink some wine and listen to some tunes. Annie and I have the same taste in men and music. Weird. We could be the same person.

Afterwards, we went to Po Na Na (against my will, I wanted to go to a mates party in Iffley Road but Alice was a bit worse for wear and was in danger of choking on her own vomit). So, crap club it was. I managed to avoid Po Na Na in Cambridge for 5 years but my record is now blemished. Po Na Na was quiet but filled up pretty quickly. Lots of tarty girls and townie boys. I did, however, see one of the few women I'd go breeder for.

After Po Na Na, Annie and I went off to Love Bar in King Edward Street where we proceeded to chat-up the bartender (Steve) who told us where he lived. I wasn't sure if he was being friendly or inviting us around for a 3some. On the dancefloor, a guy came up to me an said, "I know you!". "Erm...?" I thought (I'm very coherent when I'm drunk). "Yeah, you know Ed F____h". I do know the Ed in question. We were DIRTY in Lincoln MCR once. I don't remember meeting this guy though. Anyway, we chatted briefly and then he lurched off.

On leaving the bar, Annie and I realised we were hungry and went to Hassan's in Broad Street. Hassan's was thronged with people. There were throngs of people. Throng was the order of the day. Annie chatted up an lovely boy in an even lovelier suit, sadly, he was just in town for his much less attractive brother's birthday.

Finally stumbled home at 3 and fell into bed.

Woke up feeling like death but managed to carry myself off to chapel.

Currently listening to: Daddy Wasn't There by Ming Tea

Currently looking: uber clean-shaven

Weekend, Book 2

2005-10-17T17:21:00.000-07:00

Close Encounters...
Ships that pass in the night...
Close but no cigar...

I won't continue..

Chapel on Sunday was interesting The choir was singing Mozart's Coronation Mass, which is one of my favourite pieces of music, sadly, the Gloria, Sanctus and Agnus Dei got off to ropey starts but got better. Also, I was sitting next to an incredibly attractive man. This NEVER happens to me in Chapel. Well, it may happen all the time but I'm so focused on the business at hand that I never notice those around me (If you believe that, you'll believe anything). So, this guy didn't have a hymnal so I offered to share mine. For a few minutes, we were singing from the same hymn sheet.
Geddit? Did you see what I did there? Hymn sheet? Singing? Oh fuck off.

Everything was fine until it came time to offer him a sign of friendship. I was almost on my knees. But purely from religious fervour. The guy in front of me turned around and offered his hand which I took and murmured "peace be with you" but the fucker squeezed my hand so painfully, I winced. The girl to my right had such a damp hand I had to rummage around for a tissue to wipe her sweat off my palm. Not good.

After chapel, I met up with Oliver who was singing that day and his lady friend who I'd only met briefly. They suggested lunch with one of the lady friend's mates. We went to the Malaysian place in St Michael's Street. The food was inoffensive and reasonably priced. The company, less so. The 'friend' was the most socially inept person I'd met in a long time. She was completely lacking in social skills and basic good manners. Fucking bitch.

After we paid, Oli and I went out and left the ladies to phaff around. Outside the restaurant was a guy holding two enormous canvases and a bag of painting supplies. We smiled at one another and he said something abut how heavy the canvases are or something. I asked if I'd know his work to which he laughed and said he's no artist. He's just moved into a new flat with bare walls and he invited some mates around to eat, drink and paint. I learnt that he was at Balliol, finished in August, is a doctor at the JR, lives in Headington, is a Star Trek fan (as am I, as long as it's the Next Generation). Oli and the girls were tired of looking in shop windows so they went off and left me to my flirting (I thought it was mutual). We chatted for a good 15 minutes. We shook hands and exchanged names and I was on the verge of giving him my card when his bint of a friend appeared. Fucking whore. The three of us chatted for a few minutes when he said they should probably go in and get a table as they were expecting 6 more people. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Fortunately, I mentioned I work at the pub so hopefully, he'll come in.

Without revealing too much of my stalker tendencies, I managed to find his surname, his ex-supervisor's name, his place on the University Pool Society league table but no freakin' email . Now what?

Currently listening to: Nancy Boy by Placebo.

Currently contemplating: black eye-liner on men. Incredibly hot.

Judge Judy...

2005-10-14T10:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this post isn't about Judge Judy but she's just so hot.

So unbelievably tired. Where does the time go?

Why do I agree to do things without first checking I have the time to do them?

Tuesday was my birthday which I was made to celebrate against my will. I wanted to do what I always do on my birthday. Stay in on my own, quaff champagne (Taittinger (this year...courtesy of Attitude magazine) and eat strawberries. But was I allowed to do that? Was I? Was I fuck. "You HAVE to celebrate your birthday". Like fuck I do. But in the end, I did and it was pleasant. Drinks, dinner, more drinks.

Since then, I've been insanely busy. Wednesday, had a busy day at work and went to the Bod. to verify some sources. Deeply tedious but necessary. Did a shift at the pub that evening with Max, Amy and some new girl who was catastrophically slow. Okay, she's never worked in a pub but still...she shouldn't need to ask how to make a G & T. I mean, has she been living in a cave? Once again, a member of staff has been hired because she possesses breasts.

On Thursday, I rowed at 7am. It was a good outing despite the river being FULL of novice crews who think it's acceptable to spin in the narrowest part of the river. We also had an altercation with a Catz boat who went past us at full pressure, stopped about 50 meters in front of us, started to spin and then had the audacity to complain that we didn't have a light so they couldn't see us coming(!). Twats. It was all very gentlemanly though. I've NEVER heard anyone swear either on the bank or in a boat in all the years I've rowed. It's not don't. The cox may mumble "fucking twats" into the cox box but that's as far as it goes. It's an unwritten rule of the river. No swearing. Ever.

Work was interesting yesterday. I had a conference in Reading (the chaviest place I've been in a long time) and was pleasantly surprised to see that one of the solicitors there was an acquaintance. We met at a club in London (Fiction) a few months ago. It was weird seeing him in a suit. Anyway, stayed and had a chat and drank some rank wine afterwards it was all very pleasant and flirtatious. Another pleasant consequence on being in Reading is that as I was waiting for the train back to Oxford, I was chatted up and given a phone number! Hurrah! I still have 'it' despite being a year older.

On my return home, I was even more pleasantly surprised to find an invitation to attend a drinks reception at Canada House. Canada House, in Trafalgar Square, is the Canadian High Commission in London. How hot is that? Still don't know how or why I've been invited but I never turn down free champagne. Besides, I look good in black tie.

Currently listening to A Little Respect by Erasure.

On Monday at pink-drinks, I met a couple of very pleasant people I'm hoping I may see again...

I think I've found my next purchase...http://www.blessedherbs.com/photos2i.html

Happy Birthday...

2005-10-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

to ME!!!

Send cash and send it now.

Currently listening to: Nunc Dimittis composed by Josquin

Work and play...

2005-10-06T01:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had the most primitive eye exam. I've ever had. I thought I had been transported to Eastern Europe or something. Maybe even deepest Africa. The exam. began with the normal general health type questions and then she asked me to remove my glasses. It went downhill from there. To begin with, her hands smelt of fish. This is never a good thing, especially not when said hands were mere inches from my rather sensitive nose.

Then, instead of putting my head in some highly technical and advanced, shiny machine thing, she put these 'glasses' on me. I looked like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. She when proceeded to slot in lenses of various strengths to see if my vision had changed since my last exam. (2 years ago).

Anyway, the whole procedure took almost an hour. A fucking hour for something which usually doesn't take more than 25 minutes. 1 word, bitch...TECHNOLOGY. It's a wonderful things. Makes things much FASTER and less PUNGENT.

That's the last time I go there again.

It clearly won't be. I like getting new glasses every so often (my one vice) so I'll probably be back.

Lots has been happening at work, lately:
-I got my boss' boss to shout at some bint who wasn't doing what I asked her to do (i.e), her freakin' job.
Always go to the top, I always say.
-We all nearly froze to death because the air-conditioning was on MEGA and the control panel is in a locked room to which -we don't have a key.
-The temp has been flirting outrageously with me. Little does she know...
-The new, anti-animal-'rights'-saggy-titted-moron security system is being installed. The building is now more secure than the White House. I wanted electrically-charged gates and guard dogs but they were too expensive. Short-sighted fools.
-I broke the key to my desk which means I can't get to the highly important papers in the drawers and the maintenance people say they have to call a locksmith to fix it. They were deaf to my protestations that I need access to the desk and I need it NOW. Fuckers. There aren't really highly important papers in my desk, BUT, I do have some chocolate, Jaffa Cakes and dried figs.
-The bint who orders the stationery once again fucked -up and we now have 5000 wrong size envelopes. She ordered the MASSIVE ones that X-rays come in.

Academically, I've been asked to give tutorials for another College. This is hugely exciting as I miss the buzz of academia and learning in general.

This evening, Elly, Sam, Barnaby and Patty are coming around for dinner. Patty came last week too. She practically has a key to the house. Patty and Elly have, quite possibly, the filthiest mouths of anyone I know apart from me. This evening should be entertaining as Elly and Sam don't know Patty terribly well (they've only met once before) and it's always hugely amusing watching Elly and Patty restraining themselves for fear of offending the other. Barnaby is also quite amusing and has the most wonderful hair. The clothes situation is something else entirely...

Currently listening to: Milkshake by Kelis

I am a ginger nut...

2005-09-28T16:41:00.000-07:00

Currently listening to: Love Machine by Girls Aloud.
I think the ginger one from Girls Aloud is the best looking one. I like ginger (red) hair. Red hair and freckles. Very sweet and innocent. But probably very filthy in bed. I hope so. I now have the horn...

Oh dear.

This evening, the German and I entertaining. in attendance will be:

Patti (see some previous post)
Christian (lovely American from Boston)
Mark (mediocre tennis player and linguist)

Patti and Christian are two of my favourite people in Oxford. Patti has a mouth like a toilet (filthy but not into scat) but dresses elegantly and Christian is very sweet and gullible and looks like your average American frat boy. Sadly, he also signs his name 'Xtian'. Freak. I'll mock him mercilessly over dinner about that, of course.

Now listening to: Turn You Inside-Out by R.E.M.

Lunch...

2005-09-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

Just back from a lovely lunch at Georgina's (where else?) with Graham. Once again, I opted for the quiche platter and once again, I marvelled at the good-valuness of it. A mere £4.95...
Good food, good company. It doesn't get much better.

Am so very tired today. Had a tedious shift at the pub yesterday. I am now convinced that the German and I are the most hardworking people there. The manager asked us who we think are the biggest slackers to which I replied "you should know, you're the manager". That didn't go down very well. Anyway, 3 people are being culled. Maybe even as I type. I didn't have anything to do with this though. I certainly don't want people to lose their jobs even if they are slackers. I'd rather their slackness was addressed. And then, if they were still slackers, I'd be all for sacking the fuckers.

Yesterday, the lovely Marketmosley and his lady friend graced the pub with their presence. That's hot. I THINK they may have stolen two Leffe glasses though, as we were down 2 at the end of the night. Leffe glasses are highly coveted and I have several at home courtesy of various pubs in Oxford.

Smelly-Frenchman posted the new training schedule for the boatclub. 3 river outings per week, 1 land training session and 1 cardio session we are to do on our own. Fuck that.

Currently listening to: Ebony and Ivory by the blind Stevie Wonder.

The new term of this academic year is almost upon us and I am muchly pleased. Oxford was made for students not tourists.

I have found the PERFECT winter coat. It's a thing of beauty by Victor & Rolf. Less beautifully, it costs £800. A few more shifts at the pub, I think...

I resisted the urge to go to Borders and gaze longingly at page 22 of Attitude magazine. Not sure how long my resolve will last though.

Now listening to: Your Secrets by Belle & Sebastian

My Jaffa Cake addiction has reached epic proportions. 24 over the weekend and 22 since Monday.

I'm too tired but I thought I'd post...

2005-09-28T01:00:00.000-07:00

Some bint from one of the student rags rang me today to get a quote. Misquote would be more accurate. Fucking student 'journalists'. I told her to go fuck herself.

I didn't really.

"Manners mayketh man".

Tell me which College that is the motto of and I'll buy you a pint of whatever your heart desires. As long as it's Carling. Carling is cheap.

Currently listening to: Do You Want To by Franz Ferdinand.

Double-breasted suits are a definite no-no.

I have never been more tired. My schedule is taking its toll. I'm not sure how much longer I can carry on like this. I'm at the end of my rope. I'm at my wit's end. I'm...I could go on but you get the idea.
Actually, giving up either rowing or working at the pub would solve my sleep deprivation problem. I can't see either happening though.

On Sunday, I went into Sainsbury's to purchase a bottle of water. I walked in and walked right out again. The queue was freakin' HUGE. Why have 20 check-out things when there are never more than 5 or 6 open? Anyway, in the few seconds I was in there, I saw an enormously fat and tall man wearing a BNP (British National Party) shirt with the 'White Power' logo on the front. I was shocked. I looked at him and he looked at me. Then his CORPULENT girlfriend (a less attractive version of Michelle McManus, last year's Pop Idol winner (what happened to her?) came over and pulled him away.

I mean...what the fuck?! This is Oxford not some hick, one-horse, redneck town in the middle of nowhere.

I needed a tonic. I went to Borders and gazed adoringly at page 22 of the current edition of Attitude magazine.

Currently listening to: Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus.

Me...

2005-09-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

Well, since I last posted, I've been frightfully busy. If I was the type to use such expressions, I would go so far as to say I've been crazy-busy.

Alternatively, I could just say that I've been really fucking busy.

Rowing: has become deeply tedious. Our Monday cox is a fucking bitch who's quite possibly one of the most repellant females I've ever met. Smelly-Frenchman gets worse too. He is by no means a rowing legend but is constantly giving advice to another rower who speaks little English (he's a scientist) with hilarious results. Also, our new strokeman is a twat.

I've yet to make one of the Tuesday landtraining sessions (due to pub commitments) but I've told the pub I can no longer work on Tuesdays.

On Friday, I went to London for Rick's leaving/birthday drinks. If you've never been to Sway Bar in Covent Garden, you should check it out. I met some interesting people and then headed to Popstarz with James and his mate Jean-Charles or something. It was very noisy and I only heard every other word...
There seemed to be some sort of unofficial Cambridge University reunion at Popstarz. Almost every homo I know there was at Popstarz that night. It was, in most cases, good seeing them again.

On Saturday, Toby was visiting from Birmingham. He decided that we should make like grannies and take tea at The Old Parsonage. Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favour of tea and scones and clotted cream but you can't go wrong with cocktails. Still, it was a pleasurable experience and we had a lot of catching up to do. We then did the tourist thing and I showed him my favourite bits of Oxford, including Borders so we could flick through magazines, including Attitude (page 22). Ahem...
Then, off to the pub for me at 8. It was diabolical. I work with morons and cretins, apart from my housemate (the German) who also works there. A few members of staff do a disproportionate amount of the work and it's not on. It's not fucking on.

Apparently, the pub is haunted too.

On Sunday, I had coffee with Eli and Sam (see some previous post) and then went to the gym with Eli. After the gym, I read the papers (Observer and Sunday Times), went to Borders to flick through magazines, including Attitude (page 22), and then went to the pub to have a drink with the excellent and delightful MarketMosley. What a thoroughly pleasant individual. Bad taste in hats but the rest was fine.

Currently listening to: Landslide by Smashing Pumpkins.

Spending a lot of time making love to my: sexy, shiny, smooth iBook.

Madeleine Peyroux: have a listen if you haven't already. Just makes me want to rub garlic all over my lithe, firm body, slip on a stripy top and a beret and munch on a baguette. The French do 'style' like no one else.

I need a new winter coat.

Autumn in Oxford is beautiful. The sunlight at this time of year makes the buildings glow and the ivy is changing from green to red and orange. Beautiful.

I have not foresaken thee...

2005-09-25T11:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's been a while since I've posted something but I'm a very important person and resultantly, very busy. So just freakin' deal with it.

5 years ago whilst waiting for my flight back to London from Bombay, I was approached by a woman at the Emirates bit of the waiting area. She seemed to be in some distress and asked if I was flying to Dubai. I said 'yes'. She pulled a letter out of her bag and asked if I could post it when I got there. I said I was just in transit and wouldn't be leaving the airport but she said there were postboxes at the airport and please would I post it for her? It had to be there urgently and she was flying in the opposite direction and the Indian postal system isn't known for its efficiency. I looked at the envelope and as it was one of those blue airmail ones in which you can't put anything (explosives, for example) so I took it and said I'd post it.

Sadly, my flight was over 2 hours late leaving Bombay and when I finally got to Dubai I had to race from one end of the airport to the other. What I hadn't realised (and what no one told me) was that the Dubai to London flight was being held as so many of the passengers from the Bombay to Dubai flight were on the connecting flight too. I need not have raced from one end of the airport to the other. I could have strolled. I'm a great fan of strolling. Short story long, I forgot to post the letter. I'm not sure what I did with it but I think I may have accidentally thrown it out.

I often wonder what was in the letter. The woman that gave it to me was in some distress so the letter was obviously important. I've been thinking about this for 5 years now. Perhaps the letter was to a lover or child. Maybe a dying parent. Who knows. What I do know is that I've carried this guilt around with me for 5 years. I often wonder what became of the woman at the airport. Is she in Dubai, pleading with the recipient of the letter to believe her when she says she gave it to someone to post? Is she living somewhere else wondering why the recipient of her letter hasn't replied? Is she still alive?

If I ever do meet this woman. I have 2 words for her...

"FED-EX, BITCH"

Lumbering me with her fucking guilt.

Currently listening to: some song by The Go! Team.

I'm back!

2005-09-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Did you miss me? Did you? Huh? You did, didn't you? I knew it...

Apologies for the seemingly interminable delay in posting. I've been to Canada (for longer than I expected) and have been busily trying to shake off jetlag, working at the pub, trying to do some work, spending the weekend in London and stalking my crush.

Yes, a crush. Okay, that may seem juvenile but I am still susceptible to them. Fuck. And no, I don't mean the luscious Marketmosley.

NEWS FLASH!!! I am now the proud owner of a band new, shiny, sexy iBook!!! I've wanted one for ages and bought one when I was in Canadia. I had all sorts of bells and whistles installed on it so it is now the most powerful thing on the planet. It's making me obsolete, but I LOVE it. I THINK it may replace my flip-flops in my affections. Especially as winter is fast approaching.

I have a blind date thing on Friday too. My housemate's boyfriend's flatmate is Deputy Editor of Attitude and asked if I'd be interested in doing a blind date feature. I send in a photo, fill out a questionnaire and hey presto! Get to choose from 3 people. I'm quite pleased with my choice. The other two were repellent. One, I think I recognise from Cambridge (and he's most definitely not on my list of things I miss about the 'Bridge, and the other was just plain awful. I'm not going to mention his name, because that would be evil (message me and I'll tell you), but his best feature is his "tight ass" and the part he admires most in a chap is his "long hard...". Classy.
The one I chose (I'm convinced I've seen him walking around Oxford) wasn't bad looking and seemed quite intelligent.

Since I've been back (September 8), I've worked at the pub (it amazes me that SO many attractive people are drawn to the Jericho Tavern and yet, I never see them around town). Where do they lurk?

On Saturday, I headed to London to meet up with an old friend. Dinner at Carluccio's in Christopher Place, drinks at The Village (where, for once, I was chatted up by not 1 but by 2 (yes 2!!!) chaps, then on to Shadow Lounge where I met several pleasant people. I'm developing a taste for Americans...

Will write more later. I must attend to my toilet.

Currently listening to: nothing. I'm enjoying the sound of silence.

Currently wearing: my dressing gown. Does that turn you on? Does it?

Losing sucks, man...

2005-08-22T23:59:00.000-07:00

and lose is what we did in City of Oxford Regatta. We lost to Linacre, Wolfson and HSBC. Still, it's the taking part that counts, not whether you win or lose. That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard.

The weekend was glorious, weather-wise. Both Saturday and Sunday were glorious rowing days. The sun was shining, the river was still, fit people in rowing kit...it doesn't get much better.

Friday: the German and I entertained a couple of friends (Patty and Christian). I made a DELICIOUS pear, Stilton and celery soup, the German made vegetarian goulash (Delia's recipe) and we both made a chocolate cake. The soup and cake were a huge success, the goulash less so. If you've never eaten raw potatoes, don't bother. They are fucking revolting. The only problem is that the cake seems to have given me the shits. I've been ringing Patty and Christian every few hours since Friday to ask if they too are suffering from the shits. But no. Their bowel function remains unaffected. Bastards. Christian is very sweet. He's from Boston but is in Oxford doing a DPhil in economics. I think, he might be dirty though. Anyway, the German's boyfriend came up from London and we sat around talking and discussing Mo Mowlam until 4am. We also discovered that trying to work out currency conversion rates for random currencies is great fun when you're pissed.

Worked at the pub on Saturday night and was chatted up by an older woman. She kept buying me drinks and asking what I was doing after work. As I was rowing early the next morning, I said I was going home to bed. "Such a shame to sleep alone," was her reply. Fuck. How was I going to get out of this tricky situation without jeopardising the steady flow of drinks? Why oh why, can't attractive people say such things to me? They wouldn't even need to buy me a drink. I'd buy them a fucking drink. MANY drinks even. But no. I always get the repellent ones. The bint in question was quite frightening. The words 'mutton', 'dressed' and 'lamb' sprang to mind when I saw her.

Sunday was spend rowing in the morning followed by a boozy lunch at Branca (my favourite restaurant in Oxford, should any of my readers want to take me there sometime). I went with Patty who is HILARIOUS. Patty is from Taiwan but grew up in New York and Paris. She was at Columbia before coming to Oxford where she's doing a PhD on the trade in small arms (weapons, not midgets) in Africa. She's being funded by the UN or something equally ridiculously impressive. Anyway, the purpose of lunch was so I could meet her lovely Italian boyfriend who was also at Columbia but is starting at the LSE in October.

Gorgonzola does not belong on a pizza.

Nouvelle Vague. Great band. I've had the album on repeat since, like, Sunday.

Sunday, I went to a barbecue in Magdalen College. It was the swankiest barbecue EVER. It was catered. It was fucking catered...only at Magdalen...

Work has been crazy busy. I've had to bring Canadia forward, so I'm now flying out on Wednesday (Aug 24th) instead of September 14. I'm flying on US Air and I'm not terribly pleased about this. I'm a big fan of British Airways but the fuckers seem to have put the prices up by around 50%. The steward/esses seem to be on a mission to get you pissed on flights and they're always up for a laugh which they don't seem to be on other airlines. Anyway, I'll be back in ye olde Englande on September 5.

My Jaffa Cake addiction is spiraling out of control. I really should buy shares in McVities. I'm also alarmingly fond of lemon curd, especially the Duchy of Cornwall range (produced by HRH the Prince of Wales, no less). Charles and I go waaaayyy back, having been at Trinity together. About 30 years apart, but still...

Things I miss about Cambridge:

-not buses/cars in the centre of town
-not risking life and limb everytime I mounted my bike
-Clare College gardens
-punting along The Backs
-Nadia's and Peppercorns
-Dogfish (the BEST shop in Cambridge)
-old friends
-formal halls (just not as much fun in Oxford)
-May Week
-the UL
-the phantom defecator in the UL
-Emmanuel College bar
-King's College cafe
-evensong at Caius
-Fopp (for cheap music)

Currently listening to: Politic Amagni by Amadou + Mariam

Saw 'Crash' this evening. Depressing film.

Compliment...

2005-08-15T16:00:00.000-07:00

On Friday, I was referred to as an INTELLECTUAL PROVOCATEUR.

How fucking HOT is that? It's very hot. Practically the HOTTEST.

I miss Brian. Brian was at Oxford last year but is now living it up in Washington DC, putting the world of the Democratic Governors' Convention to rights.
We used to frequent the less salubrious drinking establishments in Oxford and the more salubrious drinking establishments in DC. Brian I miss you! Get your ass over to Oxford soon.

Brian For President! Yeah!!

Currently listening to: In My Time of Need by Ryan Adams.

Had a rather unusual dream in Saturday night. I was on a bus in London with Conrad the photographer and he got off the bus at his stop and the bus continued on. I had taken my black Doc Martens off (I don't own Doc Martens) and put them in a plastic bag with a frying pan. I dozed off and was awoken as the bus braked suddenly. I panicked and scooped up the plastic bag not realising that one of the shoes had fallen out. Whilst scrambling around on the floor of the bus to recapture the wayward shoe, I elbowed the bag with the frying pan and the other shoe and sent them flying out the window just. I leapt out after the bag just as the bus pulled away. It wasn't until the bus had gathered speed that I realised that I'd left my wallet and phone on the bus.

So, there I was...in London, late at night, no money or phone BUT with a frying pan and 1 shoe. Luckily.

I recounted this dream to my housemate on Sunday morning and we ended up having a deep and meaningful discussion about the dream becoming reality and me ending up lonely and alone in old age.

Does anyone else worry that they'll end up shoeless and alone in old age?

I was in quite a good mood til then. Bloody housemate.

Currently listening to: Close to You by Matt Munro.

Currently listening to:

The Pub...

2005-08-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

I had my first shift at the Jericho Tavern on Saturday. It was HOT. There were a couple of bands playing in the upstairs bar. Both were really good. One was doing cover versions of some of my favourite tunes. I just can't get enough of A Little Respect by Erasure.

The boss seemed pleased with my 'performance' and asked me to come in on Sunday to sign a contract and some other bits of paper. In all, I signed 17 pieces of paper...there was less paperwork connected to my job at the University (and we all know how bureaucratic Oxford is). Anyway, it went so well that he asked me to do a shift on Sunday too. I was working with my housemate and some bint who not only arrived 15 minutes late but then proceeded to sit down and have a couple of cigarettes and a drink! I couldn't believe it.

Have my next shift at the pub on Tuesday when the pub hosts as jazz night. Should be good fun.

My week now consists of:

mom.-Fri., 9ish-5ish: work
Mon., 7pm: rowing
Tues., 7-11:30: working in the pub
Weds., 7am: rowing
Thurs., 7pm: rowing
Sat., 7-12:30: working in the pub
Sun., 11-5: working in the pub

With bits of Renaissance Literature thrown in.

Currently listening to: Felt Mountain by Goldfrapp

I FINALLY painted my bedroom on Sunday. It is now a lovely cool, pale blue.

I only had 12 Jaffa Cakes over the ENTIRE weekend. My addiction is well and truly in hand.

Despite what MarketMosley may say, urine is sterile. He has clearly never experimented with watersports.

McVities Jamaica Ginger Cake is delicious smeared with butter and lemon curd. Very lardy though. I think I'll stick with Jaffa Cakes.

My newly shorn head is still looking good. Actually.

Vandalism...

2005-08-12T17:42:00.000-07:00

Every time...every fucking time I have a piss, the bloody automatic room deodoriser spritzes the back of my head with floral scented carcinogens.

I decided to wedge a bit of cardboard in the opening where the nozzle pops out (like a cookoo clock) and just to be sure, tape it in place. Bad idea.

No. That's wrong. Good idea, bad reception. This afternoon, everyone in my section got an email from the bitch facilities manager asking whoever is destroying University property to stop at once or face disciplinary action. Apparently, the cleaner wasn't impressed by my ingenuity and initiative. Bastard.

The last few days have been tiring. I've been going to the gym before work which makes me feel really good and wide awake during the day, but by around 10pm, I'm absolutely shattered.

Saturday will definitely be paint my bedroom day. Saturday is also the day I have my first shift at the Jericho Tavern. My housemate works there and has a blast so I thought I'd give it a go and work 2 shifts/week. The Jericho Tavern is my second favourite pub after The Royal Oak. But neither can aspire to the dizzying heights the Duke of Cambridge occupies in my heart.

Currently listening to Lovely Head by Goldfrapp

City of Oxford Regatta is getting closer and closer and we're having fewer and fewer outings. Someone explain this to me, please?

So far today, I have consumed:

2 cups of tea
2 litres of water
1 banana
1 bowl of porridge with sunflower seeds, flax seeds and raisins
2 slices of toast
1 omelet made with 2 eggs and Red Leicester
14 Jaffa Cakes.

14?! I couldn't fucking believe it. I bought the kind that come in a tube this afternoon when I went home for lunch. I thought...Hmmm...I'll buy the ones in the handy resealable tube so I'll be able to handily reseal them after I have 1 or 2 each time, until they are gone. Also, the ones in the tube are 90p for 15, whereas the ones in the box are 71p for 12. You do the math, 'cause I can't.

Anyway, went home, had said (delicious) cheese omelet and toast, cup of tea and 14 Jaffa Cakes. This is getting ridiculous. I must have inhaled them. I've got to stop, man.

Had my hair cut SHORT yesterday at the Market Barbers in the Covered Market. A lovely fat Scotsman did it. I'm really pleased. It's the best haircut I've had in ages and only cost Â£10.20. I pointed to a photo in a magazine and said 'I want that one but less severe.'.

I can't help running my fingers through my hair though. It feels so damn nice. Ad, AND, my head doesn't look remotely testicular.

Go to Google and type in the word 'failure'. It's hilarious. And it's not even a piss-take but the real live, genu-wine site.

Currently listening to: Annie Mae by John Lee Hooker

Oxford is quiet socially at the mo. Barnaby, anti-technology Steven, sexy Patti, Mark Muscles, Tuvia, Hot Bescher, Johnny McK etc... are all gone. Most only for a few weeks but their absence is being felt greatly. I'm about ready to weep. Come back. COME BACK. COME BACK!!!

It seems my stalker has redoubled his efforts. I was flattered to begin with but now I'm just getting annoyed. I wouldn't mind so much if he used deodorant. Still, you can't have everything, can you? Huh? If I complain too much about this one, I might not have another for a long time and in a freakish, masochistic way, I quite like it. It's very flattering. Besides, I'm stronger than he is and can easily out-run him.

I'd quite like:

A new bike
A new computer
A new watch
A holiday in Italy and Spain
A new pair of spectacles (I just want a new pair, I don't need a new pair)
An unlimited shopping spree at Selfridges

Realistically, only the first 5 are going to happen anytime soon. BUT if any Selfridges MDs are reading...

Currently listening to: I Can Hardly Spell Your Name by Lambchop

Urination...

2005-08-12T05:42:00.000-07:00

I think it's perfectly acceptable to urinate in a sink if there is no toilet nearby.
I developed this habit when I lived in College (17th Century, no less)and whilst there was a sink in each room, I had to go up 3 flights of stairs to get to the bathroom.

Many people are disgusted by this but to them, I say...URINE IS STERILE.

A few days ago, some friends and I were arguing whether or not rights should be linked to intelligence. That was our initial premise, anyway (yes, we were drunk). We then decided that rights should be linked to applied intelligence. Disturbingly, most people were in favour of this...

And people say I'm right wing...

Currently listening to: Silent To The Dark by The Electric Soft Parade.

Thirst quenching...

2005-08-09T16:27:00.000-07:00

I've been drinking Campari and soda like it's water.

How can something so bitter be so good?

People have been asking that about me for years...

Currently listening to: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

Footwear...

2005-08-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

Once again, my favourite Canadian newspaper is printing shit. It is advising Canadia's menfolk to wear leather flip-flops/slides. That is just wrong. Leather flip-flops are not stylish. They are favoured by greasy-haired, gold chain-draped, tight jeans-wearing, Rolex-sporting gigolos (and those aspiring to those dizzy heights). They are not cool. They are not classy. They are not sexy. They do not make me hard. Oh no...they make me droop.

Last weekend, Rick came to Oxford to see me. We ate and drank and walked around looking at some of the many beautiful buildings in Oxford. Shoved him back on the Oxford Tube on Sunday and I spent the rest of the day gambolling around New College gardens, reading the Sunday papers and people-watching.

Had an outing in an 8 on the river at 7pm yesterday. It was good fun. Lots of starts and 500m pieces. We're training for the City of Oxford Regatta but really don't have a hope in hell. It's all good fun though. Yesterday, 1 of the two pleasant crew members was away so in his place, we had a sub from Linacre who was also pleasant. Or so I thought..."where are you from?" he asked. "Toronto", I replied. "Really? You sound very Cambridge." Twat. Cambridge? What's that supposed to mean?! I sound (as EVERYONE who isn't hard of hearing or a retard) will attest to...T R A N S A T L A N T I C.

Currently listening to: Life of Riley by The Lightning Seeds.

Currently wearing: kidney-bean coloured cords, white shirt with fine blue lines, reddish-brown boots. I look hot.

No really. I do.

Thanks to Conrad I now have a photograph. Hurrah!! Now my (no doubt, numerous) fans will be able to gaze adoringly and longingly at my chiseled features betwixt my random musings on here.

Conrad, if you're reading this (and how could you NOT be?), thanks, dude. I owe you.

Now listening to: Babies by Pulp.

Apparently, Mr Depp based his portrayal of Willy Wonka on Michael Jackson. I didn't really see it though as I've never seen Michael J interact with children. Rick suggested this but I discounted it as he lacks an Oxbridge education (KIDDING!) but I was forced to reconsider his opinion when someone else said the same thing. Damn. I hate being wrong.

Rick is off to NYC indefinitely for work. If you're in NYC and are reading this, get in touch with him (via me). He doesn't have any mates in London, let alone NYC. Ha,ha...not really.

Now listening to: Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie. (I think it should be pronounced Boe-ey but everyone seems to pronounce it Bau-ey. Fucking morons.

I think my hair will get the chop this week. That way, if it looks heinous, it'll grow back before the start of Michaelmas.

Words of wisdon...

2005-08-05T16:25:00.000-07:00

You can't polish a turd.

I'm addicted...

2005-08-05T16:24:00.000-07:00

to:

Porn, Ryvita and Jaffa Cakes.

Is there a support group for people like me?

Currently listening to: Rocket Boy by Liz Phair (from the Stealing Beauty soundtrack. Good film. Better soundtrack).

So far, 1 person has said I shouldn't get rid of my hair.

Worlds collide...

2005-08-05T16:00:00.000-07:00

I dread to think what would happen if my addictions all met in one room at the same time...

Porn, crackers and cookies.

Cock in one hand, Ryvita in the other, a handful of Jaffa Cakes stuffed in my mouth.

I'm practically a Tory MP.

That's hot.

Currently listening to: We Are Monkeys by Travis

The Dark Ages...

2005-08-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

Once again, I don't have a problem with God. Merely his fan-club.

Currently listening to: Disgraceful by Dubstar (strangely appropriate, given the above).

Gosh...2 posts in one day. Oh, you lucky, lucky people...

Film...

2005-08-05T12:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. BRILLIANT film. Johnny Depp, is, as usual, amazing. Some people say I'm a bit like Mr Depp...

They don't really say that at all, I'm afraid.

This weekend, Rick (with whom I've recently been reunited) is coming up to Oxford. When I say he's 'coming up to Oxford', I mean he's visiting, not he's going to be studying here. When he leaves Oxford, he'll just be leaving, not 'going down' which is the term used to describe leaving Oxford for vacations. For example, you'd say, "I came up in October and went down in June".

In any case, Rick is doing neither.

Yesterday, we had a session in the Tank. It was good but tiring. The fucking coach really worked us. Once again, everyone was dripping with sweat and once again, the chlorine saved me from retching all over the place. I must introduce the crew to some of the many fine 'antiperspirants' on the market. These 'antiperspirants' are readily available at reasonable cost.

This morning, I had the usual break-down/analysis e-mail of yesterday's outing. As usual, the spelling and grammar were dire. Anyway, we should be gearing ourselves up mentally for City of Oxford Regatta. Apparently. We have to focus on looking good in the boat. Because, as EVERYONE knows, looking good in a competition is the way to win?!

Currently listening to: Quaemadmodum by Taverner, sung by The Sixteen

Sublime.

Busybody is back from holiday and has had a haircut. She now looks like a butch dyke/man. That's hot.

I've been watching The O.C. before work in the morning. It's become quite ridiculous. Why do the Cohens not have a spare bedroom despite living in an enormous house? And the bint that plays the Cooper girl has got to be the worst actress ever. Summer and Seth are my favourites. Ryan is a retard.

I'm thinking about having my hair cut really short. Shorter than I've ever gone before. For those of my faithful readers that know me, should I do this? Will really short hair suit me or will it just look like I have a huge testicle on my shoulders?

Now listening to Whir by Smashing Pumpkins.

I called my parents yesterday to tell them when I'd be coming. I could easily have emailed this information but I thought it would be nice to hear the joy and elation in my parents' voices as I told them the joyous news. There was no joy or elation in their voices. I almost wept. I mean, what were they thinknig? I'm their second-born, their pride and joy, their son who isn't a complete waste-of-space bastard. I'm flying halfway around the world to see them...

Parents are strange.

Does anyone remember 'skorts'? I'm not sure they made it to the UK...

Currently wearing: flip-flops, stripey polo shirt and a skort.

Not really. Silly rabbit...skorts are for fat women.

Holidays...

2005-08-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

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

'To do' list...

2005-08-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Today, I must:

-Organise a conference
-Go to Boots and purchase deodorant and face stuff
-Go to the gym
-Row at 7pm
-Eat a lot of fruit (it's on the verge of going off)
-Exchange a pair of shoes
-Drink plenty of water (only 2 litres so far. I'm addicted to the stuff)
-Watch some porn
-Buy masking tape to tape off the bits I don't want to paint in my bedroom
-Get to bed early
-Stop looking for love in all the wrong places. No fine girls, just ugly faces...

Currently listening to: Flawed is Beautiful by These Animal Men

Spent much of the day with Steven who I have a lot of time for. For whom I have a lot of time, actually, Bescher. We had lunch at The Wheatsheaf, wandered into some shops, bought some ties, and chilled at New College. We had quite an indepth and heated discussion about society's reliance on technology. Steven is one of only 2 people I know without a mobile. His argument is that 10 years ago, no one had them and we managed without them. Weirdly, Steven loves his laptop more than life itself. I THREW that in his face scornfully. Well, not scornfully at all.I quite like the boy and respect his views. The difference between my reliance on my phone and his on his laptop is that his computer allows him an outlet for his creativity whereas my phone dehumanises interaction. Apparently. We agreed to disagree. But I won the argument. I always do. Especially in my blog.

Currently listening to: The Fox in the Snow by Belle & Sebastian

The office is understaffed today. Evil bosslady is on holiday. Busybody is on holiday. The temps aren't in. Of the 9 of us that should be in, only 3 are and one of the three is leaving in an hour. Still, the remaining colleague is my second favourite so that won't be too bad.

Bitch housemate, who isn't really a bitch and is, infact, quite lovely, just really fucking stupid sometimes, left the house leaving the back door wide open. I texted, asking 'is there a reason the back door is wide open?'. 'It was to air the kitchen after I cooked'. 'What did you cook?', 'porridge'. The kitchen needed to be aired after she made porridge?! I mean...what the fuck?! The woman can't cook. At all. Her food in inedible by all but her. I chastised her when she got home. She won't be making that mistake in a hurry again, let me tell you.

What to have for lunch? I'm thinking, a meal deal from Boots or maybe just some fruit. I'm trying to limit my visits to Georgina's to once or twice per week. I might just go to Cafe Nero in Blackwells and have an Americano and read the LRB which has the most hilarious Personals column.

Currently regretting: not removing my clothes from the washing machine this morning. They'll fucking reek when I get home and require re-washing.

I watched the Fantastic 4 yesterday. Unchallenging, lighthearted entertainment. Not a patch on X-Men though. Gawd, I'd love to be an X-Men. As long as I had a good superpower.

Currently listening to: Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing by Stevie Wonder

Laptops...

2005-08-01T12:30:00.000-07:00

I want to buy one. I'm thinking an Apple of some description, as they are sexy. And I want an excuse to go to the uber sexy Apple store in Regent Street. Thoughts? I had my heart set on a Mini Mac, but apparently, it would be foolish to buy a computer I can't take everywhere I go. So, laptop it is. I'm so damn amenable.

Weekend:

Well, went to London, as planned. Got the Oxford Tube to Victoria then two stops on the Tube to Vauxhall. I was met at Vauxhall by the lovely Tuvia who I'd not seen in 3 weeks. That's the longest we've gone without seeing one another since we met.

Anyway, Tuvia's swish new flat is about 7 minutes fromn the Tube station. It's a lovely flat. 3 bedrooms, living room with huge windows and a kitchen with a gas cooker. GAS! Gas is amazing to cook with. Electric may be safer but it's just not the same for cooking with. We ate and drank and headed to Fiction. On the way there, Tuvia remarked "now, I know you won't know anyone there but I'll introduce you to some people." Oh, okay, I thought. That'll be nice. So, we get to Fiction and within a minute of standing in the queue, I hear someone calling my name. It was a colleague from work I'd had a meeting with that morning. I'd suspected he was a bender but wasn't sure. Turns out he is. We chatted then went our seperate ways. While checking my coat in, I felt a poke in the ribs. It was Richard! I'd not seen Richard for 3 years. He used to live a few doors down from me when I lived in swanky Newnham in Cambridge. But we'd lost touch. It was good seeing him again. Anyway, by the time we left at 4am, I'd bumped into 7 people I knew. Weird. We then went to A:M, which was less pleasant and stayed til 9. I won't be going back there again. It was unbearably not, there was no booze, the music was awful, sweaty, shirtless people were rubbing them selves against me, the toilets were diabolical. DIABOLICAL.

Got back to Oxford at 6pm on Saturday and slept for a very long time. Got up and watched Bertolucci's 'The Dreamers'. Eva Green is beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Very pale nipples, though. French women have a certain fragile beauty that masks very willful, strong characters. And they're just so damn chic.

Currently listening to: Where Happiness Lives, by Magnet.

A new member of staff will be starting in my office next month. I thought he was a bender but he was talking about his upcoming honeymoon. He wears a ring on his index finger. On his fucking index finger. That's quite gay, no?

Thank...

2005-07-29T16:00:00.000-07:00

fuck, the weekend has arrived. I didn't think I was going to make it through this heinous week.

This evening, I'm heading to London to see Tuvia the Canadian. We're going to eat, drink (well, I will for both of us, as Tuvia doesn't drink. Unless it's champagne. What a gay.)and boogie. He's going to take me to (but not 'in') some of his favourite haunts. I'm somewhat worried by this as I'm not sure his favourite haunts will be my favourite haunts. The thing is, Tuvia has muscles where muscles ought not to be and I'm afraid the places he takes me will be frequented by enormously muscley gays with curiously camp voices. Muscle marys infact. And no one likes a muscle mary. No sir. Not me. Not even a little bit.

Spoke to Hot Bescher the other day. I miss him a lot. Not sure why though.

This whole internet lark is amazing. Once again, it has reunited me with a long lost friend. This time, in the form of Rick. I went to an amazing website and typed in his name and company and in .22 seconds, I had his email address.

You can run, but you can't hide.

That wasn't a threat, merely a warning.

Had quite a good outing yesterday. We rowed in an 8 with a new cox and 2 new crew members both of whom are quite attractive. The rest are still repellant, though.

Currently listening to: Luka by Suzanne Vega.

Flip-flops

2005-07-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

How fucking sexy are flip-flops? I mean, they don't make someone sexy, but they automatically enhance someone's sexiness.

Provided the wearer has good feet.

Currently listening to: 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton.

Has anyone been to Panama? Should I bother or shouldn't I? I think the country might be a bit DIRTY. To say nothing of the people.

Most played...

2005-07-27T12:30:00.000-07:00

on my trusty iPod:

The Zephyr Song, Red Hot Chili Peppers
Supergirl, Reamon
Bermuda Highway, My Morning Jacket
Can't Stand Me Now, The Libertines
Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus, Serge Gainsbourg
You Don't Care About Us, Placebo
Surfin On A Rock, Air
2 Wicky, Hoover
Plume, Smashing Pumpkins
The Paris Match, Style Council
What Gives With You, Abraham
Lolita, Alize
Samedi Soir Sur La Terre, Francis Cabrel
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, Edith Piaf
Powder Blue, Elbow
If 6 Was 9, Axiom
Hooded Kiss, Ben Christophers
Mysteries, Beth Gibbons
Alice, Cocteau Twins
Songs Of Love, Divine Comedy

I'm going through a revivalist phase, alright?

Currently listening to: one of the above.

Property values...

2005-07-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

are going down. Jericho isn't what it used to be...

The house two doors down from mine used to be occupied by Brookes students. Crap university, crap tenants. They used to sit in the back garden and SHRIEK. For the benefit of my faithful readers abroad, Oxford Brookes is the other university in Oxford. If you meet someone (invariably a Brookes student) who says they study in Oxford, laugh loudly and mock them. The clever kids study at Oxford. There is a world of difference.
Brookes isn't as bad as the other 'university' in Cambridge though. The students there were truly stupid. Frighteningly so.

Anyway, the house two doors down from mine was recently vacated by said Brookes monkeys. My housemates and I were hoping for some fit boys and girls to perve at, befriend and ultimately, bed . Not really. We were hoping they'd be easy on the eye, though. Instead, what can only be described as gypsies or perhaps circus folk have moved in. There are about a dozen of them (at last count). I'm just waiting for the incredible bearded lady to join them. Then the family will be complete.

Currently listening to: Son of a Preacher Man by the late, great Dusty Springfield.

Conrad- photographer and artist, is in town this evening. I can't tell you how thrilling that is for me.

Why do all Coldplay songs sound alike?

Currently wearing: clothes that make me look townie (according to my housemate).

Lethargic...

2005-07-26T10:30:00.000-07:00

is the only word I can think of to describe my mood today.

The only thing I want to do is curl up in bed with a good book. Something by Tom Sharpe, I think. I'm in need of cheering up. And maybe Simon & Garfunkel in the background. S & G are great. I've only recently discovered how good they are. To think I've been missing out on the magic of S & G all these years. Just when I think I know what I like and don't like, something I never would have considered listening to a few years ago is on repeat on my iPod.

This morning whilst attending to my morning toilet, I listened to Urban Hymns by The Verve. Beautiful songs. The album was a birthday present from Jen who used to live next to me, my first year at Cambridge. It brought back happy memories of late night walks and chats, hot chocolate and general silliness.

Apparently, your sense of smell has the greatest memory recall ability of all your senses. This is definitely true in my case. Certain smells- the polish used in New College Hall, Aqua di Gio fragrance, old books etc...evoke extremely vivid memories. Both happy and not so happy.

Songs also do this for me. I associate certain songs with certain moods and periods in my life. Urban Hymns is definitely melancholic but it was shared melancholia. The kind that bonds people. 'Tubthumping' is a happier song (if not terribly good) and the song 'You Belong To Me' by Suede reminds me of 4 very frustrating and tiring months in Angel. Those 4 heinous months precipitated my move to Oxford.

Currently listening to: Bleecker Street by Simon & Garfunkel

Go buy one (or many) of these...

2005-07-25T12:36:00.000-07:00

They're cheap, handmade, support young designers, ethically produced...I could go on. But I won't.

And no. I'm not on commission. Cynical fuckers.

Currently listening to: Gone by Kruder & Dorfmeister.

I've rediscovered...

2005-07-25T12:12:00.000-07:00

Mad About You, Ellen and Scrubs in a big way. I used to watch these programmes, well Ellen and Mad About You, when I was younger but now they are being shown on TV in the UK and I'm revisiting the classics. Scrubs, whilst much newer is excellent too. And Seinfeld. Seinfeld is amazing. Elaine, George and Kramer. There's a bit of each of them, in each of us. Scary shit. But true.

My weekend was fraught. On Saturday, I went to B&Q to buy paint and painting apparatus (aparatii?) so I could paint my bedroom. I was chatted up by a lovely, yet slightly bovine Turkish woman. She insisted I give her my email address. So I did. I hope that wasn't a big mistake. The thing is, I LOVE Turkish food and was secretly hoping she'd introduce me to some good restaurants. Well, not so secretly, I did ask her to recommend some Turkish restaurants. Apparently, there are none in Oxford. The best ones are in London apparently.
What's disturbing is how flirtatious she was being. She was manning the 'Refunds' counter and was generally quite unhelpful. I was waiting in the queue to return a lightbulb my housemate had purchased about 3 months ago which was broken. I didn't have the receipt. I didn't have a hope in hell. I shuffled up to the counter and said "please may I exchange this broken lightbulb for one that isn't broken?" "You have receipt?", she barked. I involuntarily took a step back. "Erm...no, I'm afraid I haven't." "You go find another one, I exchange." I scurried away thinking she probably thinks I'm really cheap for wanting to exchange a faulty lightbulb. Having not purchased said lightbulb, I was annoyed with my housemate for being asked to do his dirty work. Anyway, I finally found the lightbulb aisle and found a matching bulb. It was £9.80. £9.80?! For a fucking lightbulb? At that price, the fucking thing had better outlive me and my children (ha, ha...like I'm ever going to have those smelly, noisy fuckers). Anyway, I went back to the desk, she said "very expensive. Why so expensive?". I muttered something indecipherable, said "thank you" and hurried away to continue with my shopping. Short story long, I had to go back to her counter so she could page some monkey to mix the colour paint I wanted (pale blue) and in the process, she visibly softened, sent all the other customers away by saying "no refunds or returns today" and proceeded to flutter her eye-lashes and thrust her ample bosom in my face. Lord knows what she thought I was thinking but it wasn't what she was hoping.

Wrong forest, wrong tree.

I barely managed to escape with my dignity intact.

That evening, I headed to London to meet up with Tristan and Sophie. Tris and Soph. Who I don't see nearly as often as I should. I blame them entirely. Tristan and I used to share a house when we were at Cambridge along with the lovely Mary and the less lovely Matt. Anyway, met up with Tris and Sophie for a jug of Sangria (they were raving about it. It tasted of weak piss to me) in some 'bar' in Neal's Yard. We chatted and caught up on stuff.

Tristan and I then went off to Soho for dinner. We decided to by-pass the lovely, welcoming, extensive menu, clean, reasonably priced type of places and instead, went to some Italian place which could have doubled as a crack-house. It was, erm, interesting.

Currently listening to: Strange Currencies by R.E.M. (another great band I'm rediscovering).

Sunday, it rained all day. 'Nuff said.

Currently wearing: blue Cons, strange, yet wonderful cords, stripy shirt, knitted vest/tank, black tie, white studded belt. I look interesting according to Evil bosslady.

Currently eating: sunflower seeds by the handful. They're good for you, apparently.

Toilet humour...

2005-07-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

An actual letter written to Continental Airlines. Hilarious.

Currently listening to: Thumbelina Farewell by Ron Sexsmith

Friends reunited...

2005-07-22T16:53:00.000-07:00

I am, of course, referring to my great friend Alistair. I'm muchly pleased to have been reunited with the Wylie one. It's amazing what Google can tell you when you ask it the right thing. If you've not been to Paisley, don't bother. It's a shithole. Alistair is its one redeeming feature.

Today, I've been writing a report on the Russell Group. It was very exciting. I had a semi the whole time.

The woman who sits next to me is wearing, what appears to be, an enormous doiley. It's not a good look.

I had lunch at Georgina's in the Covered Market again, today. For £4.94, you can get the quiche platter, consisting of a piece of quiche (which real mean DO eat), 2 substantial chunks of bread, rock-hard butter, and a choise of 2 salads (I went for Greek and Waldorf). Bargain. The staff are really friendly and the service is speedy. The only downside is, that the place is too small and is VERY popular.

Currently listening to: Sunday Morning by Velvet Underground.

Currently wearing: flip-flops(what else?!), jeans, brown t-shirt, red zippy top, white studded belt. I look COOL.

Home time...

Now listening to: Picnic By The Motorway by Suede

Saggy titted, unwashed, smelly, uninformed...

2005-07-22T10:10:00.000-07:00

More bombs in London. Not good.

Yesterday, I had dinner and drinks with Odette and Rob. We went to The Royal Oak which is my favourite pub in Oxford. There are lots of small rooms and nooks, candles, each light fixture is different, the music is background noise rather than deafening, there is an outside seating area, there is a good selection of beers, ales and wines, the clientele tend to be attractive. The only downside is the extortionate sums they charge. The food is okay but the portions are small and after my main course of Thai noodles I was fucking STARVING. Thank fuck for chips, I thought. I could do with a bowl of chips, lots of salt, ketchup, maybe even some mayonnaise. Clutching the menu, Odette scurried eagerly to the bar to order 2 bowls of chips. Did they have chips? Did they? No, they fucking didn't. No potatoes apparently. Who the fuck runs out of potatoes. If I'd known there was going to be the slightest possibility that the pub would run out of potatoes, I would have brought my own. I have more potatoes at home than I know what to do with. Everyday this week, dinner has consisted of potatoes in various incarnations.

Odette ordered pizza instead and it was DELICIOUS.

I had a couple of pints of Sleemans. It's Canadian. I'm Canadian. We're all Canadian. Hur-fucking-rah. Wasn't very good though.

Today has been quite good. I finished a big piece of work for evil Bosslady (only to be given another one), having drunk 4 litres of water so far, I'm fully hydrated but desperate for a piss, I was coiffed yesterday so have been running my hands through my hair like they do in shampoo adverts etc...life is good.

Anyway...haircuts. Went to a new place (in Little Clarendon Street) yesterday. Even though I was on time, I was kept waiting for 15 minutes. The bint then proceeded to wash my hair (I HATE those sinks with the indentations for your neck) in an unnecessarily vigourous manner. Anyway, her attempt at a head massage was pitiful. Pitiful. AND she hadn't fastened the smelly polyester gown thing around my neck securly so I had water down my back. She then whipped out a rubber thing which looked to me like the mats found on the floor of a car. It weighed about 10lbs. I jerked my head away. I'm sure I have whiplash. So, I was sitting there, trussed up like a chicken, reading Vogue (if they are going to cut men's hair, they should have MEN'S magazines, no?) There was a very informative article on cleansers though. And of course, the usual "how to keep your man happy and give yourself multiple orgasms" type articles.

And so, I was sitting there, reading this girlie magazine (I'm sure they thought I was a bender) when the bitch finally turns up and says "what are we having done today?". So, I dutifully explained in words of one syllable or less, what I wanted done (the same thing I had, only shorter) and she got to work. Of course, my hair was bone-dry by then so she proceeded to drench me with a spray bottle. It was like being caught in a typhoon. Not only was my face now soaking wet, but some moron cranked the music up so she couldn't hear me when I asked for a tissue and had to resort to 'tissue required' gestures.

Having my hair cut is an unpleasant experience but the guy I usually go to knows not to speak to me. I HATE being spoken to whilst I'm being coiffered. The only things I want them to say to me are "would sir like something to drink?" and "what can I do for sir today". Nothing else. NOTHING. I don't do chit-chat. I don't want to know where the bitch is going on holiday (invariably some Costa somewhere or Magaluf or if she's really classy, Lanzarote) or about her boyfriend (Kevin, Barry, Gaz, Trevor) or her dog. I don't care about what she watched on TV last night or what she's doing at the weekend. Just cut my hair, bitch.

The moron I got, clearly subscribed to the 'cram in as much incessant, mindless chatter as you can' school of though. I now know EVERYTHING about this woman. Scary shit, man. AND she kept rubbing her colossal breats against me.

End result: me not terribly happy with my new 'do and regretting ever having set foot in that fucking 'salon'.

Currently listening to: August Day Song by Bebel Gilberto

Non-verbal communication

2005-07-21T11:39:00.000-07:00

I'll write more later. I'm very busy, you know...

Currently listening to: Elephant Man by Suede.