Sunday, 15 February 2009

Not drinking is not going very well. Friday was crit day. This is basically where you pin up all your designs and research and some nobody that you've seem perhaps once in your life, whilst walking the corridors, tells you that you're shit.

Usually I am quite good at blagging said crits (and most presentations really). But this time it appeared I had lost this ability. Halfway through we broke for lunch....then I returned for one presentation, decided that it was absolutely pointless, put my hood up walked off.

Most of the afternoon was spent in bed. Largely due to the fact that, once again, I am not sleeping properly. Later housemate 4 woke me up and tried to force me to go shopping for lightbulbs.

Interesting relative fact: Even though I sometimes kiss boys, I am the only one in my flat who owns a fully factional toolbox complete with 3 different types of knife. I am also the most knowledgeable about DIY and fixing stuff up. So obviously I am the prime candidate for lightbulb shopping.

However little did Housemate 4 know that by entering my room she had agreed to choose an outfit and dress me whilst I still lead in bed. The following garments where chosen: A ebony coloured A&F tshirt (which I've considered destroying on many occasions), Straight-Legged-Somewhat-Skinny jeans, Black socks, Black CK's, White and black Fred Perry Tennis shoes.

Then we went to B&Q and somehow I managed to acquire 3 bottles of Cider.

Given that I had acquired these it was decided that I would pull a few strings and get us a free night out in our (trashy) campus club. A night which was very messy and very entertaining. During the said night the following things happened:

-A chocolate cake was mysteriously delivered to our flat?

-A punch was created containing: London Gin, Bells Whiskey, Cheap (Appearntly Russian)Vodka, Wine white Hardy's, Martini Blanc,Cider, Orange juice, and a hole kiwi fully skinned (This fruit was possibly pushed the punch other the edge) This punch was drank out of various vessels including espesso cups and mircowavable tupperware.

-A door handle was pulled off of a disabled door, which was locked, and all the sofa's in the uni Cafe where turned upside down and into dens.

-I was sick.

-I found it hilarious to get into our fridge-freezer, and still manged to fit in it without removing too many of the shelves.

- Our SU president passed out in my bedroom and everyone eventually went to sleep at 6am. But no one really slept.

The remainder of the weekend has been spent...doing not much. I've vaguely thought of doing some work, but I'd rather not do it, and face the wrath of Sexy Spanish tutor on Monday.

Being T-total lasted 13days. Lets try again.

Sunday, 8 February 2009

So I have a dream last night. I dream that I am at my parents house in South England. My friends and I are at a bar that we go to in the holidays, which gets pretty full at the weekends. It's a Friday, maybe Saturday and we are dancing around this tiny little bar that's no more that twenty-five meters square.

It's the same bar that H and I had an argument in over Christmas.

In the dream it gets to about midnight we are making our way to a night club. Someone grabs my hand. A blond girl, possibly Chels. I'm unsure as to why it is her, because I don't find her attractive in the least. We're having sex.

And the dream ends and immediately after another begins.

I'm following a man and a woman, both in grey suits, down Corn St. As they turn into the exchange they talk about being journalists and how its illegal to go on television.

I get talking to this girl, I don't know what about. But suddenly a rocket smashes into the wall across the street, sirens scream in the distance, and panic is thrown over the city. Her news team are screaming for her to get in a van; that is full of cloth, and I chase after her.

Only now I'm wearing roller skates and it's hard to stand still. I ask for her number, but I don't have a pen to write it down. So I give her mine, and in the dream I'm saying my actual number but I get the digits mixed up. So she never calls.

I follow the van, clearing the way through littered streets. Congested with work men, plant machinery, and fencing. All the time shouting to the van driver through her window and skating as hard and fast as I can, and I realise that this is Easton, and I wake up.

And I drank last night. Only one drink, but I wish I hadn't. I want to go T-total.

Saturday, 7 February 2009

For the last three years it has snowed on the same day every year. I know this, not because I write it down. But because its supposedly the day of my birth. Although in technicality I was born on two days. The Thursday and the Friday.

This year celebrations followed much the same pattern as previous years. Resulting in me being sick, several times.

Nine, actually.

This week has seen the 'worse snow in twenty seven years', and this annoys me. My week, has revolved around white power. And not the good kind.

So I'd really love it if, please, it would stop snowing and I could carry on in my semi-normal ways. Thank you.

Sunday, 1 February 2009

It's the thirty first of January and I receive this message:


hey mr
you look hot and was hoping we could meet mr or just hang out sometime.. I am an easy going guy and very open minded... so not sure what you after but am willing to make it worth your while mr?? hows a few £££ sound?.. plz get back to me


And I am thinking two things. Why does this man say Mr all the time, its quite annoying, and £££ sounds very much like someone pressing a combination of keys on a keyboard. Never the less I reply and I say the following:

Like £4000?

I wait, quietly confident that this man will understand that I am obviously jesting.

But then, on the first of February I get this message:



£300 for me to suck u off?

This annoys me somewhat. I'm now asking the following questions.

- why would you want to pay to suck someone off?

- more to the point what about me on this profile suggest that I am willing to accept payment?

- should I say yes and pocket £300, which would pay for my trip to Barcelona?