Sex, sewing and study

I don't have a quote for today, but - as we all know by now - this is the final day of NaBloPoMo for me so, fuck it. I'm going to fill you all in with an ILB Special Relationship Status Report.

My girlfriend is about to start an MA leading on to a PhD - there are posts about some of the books she's been reading here and here - and it's in London. I, also, coincidentally, am in London. Now, for a PhD in a literary subject you really do need the best books, and they some from the best libraries, and she has the Bodleian in Oxford, inhabiting - from the sounds of things - mostly the Radcliffe Camera. Here, she will have the British Library in Ling's Cross, not to mention the, frankly, massive libraries of the University of London and its 19 different colleges. I may be making wild assumptions here, but I think that living in Oxford and studying in London is A Good Idea™ if you're in need of books.

Or like hyperlinks.

Anyway, studying at London is what all the cool kids are doing these days. TD's best friend, the mysterious N, is doing the same. In fact, even my oldest and dearest, Robinson (who has just turned 25, good Lord!), is studying again this year - although it's not actually at the UoL, it's still study. Looks like mature students, suddenly, are where it's at. And all this time, I thought that was second violins. Shows how much I know.

I need to clarify, now, that TD isn't actually living with me. I still live with my parents, for one thing. I mean, she'll be staying with me, sure, but for the first term she'll be in London for three days a week; ergo, she'll have time to return to Oxford during the four consecutive days in which she isn't doing anything wants to study at home. But I've carried a spare chest of drawers upstairs, and we had a complete overhaul of my room recently too, so that instead of ILB's-room-with-extra-bag-of-clothes, I'd prefer to think of it, now, as ILB's-room-with-TD's-things-in-it instead. She stayed with me back when she was working for Scarlet, so why not now as well?

I think this is Another Good Thing™. I mean, I adore having her around - because I adore her. There will be a lot of studying, because that has to be done - no matter how boring it actually is - but there will also be the capacity to go out, have meals, snuggle, watch movies, read stories and have mind-blowing sex, because there has to be some social time, right?

Needless to say, there's a new deal going on around here, even though I haven't a clue what that is. I've also no idea what's going to be happening in a year's time. I don't think I want to know, anyway. All I know for now is, I have a girlfriend who is about to start being a postgraduate in London, and I live in London, and I'm very, very excited.

Head off

The course I'm taking doesn't have a lot to do with having your head hit quite hard, so I was a little confused when one of our lecturers this morning had a spiel about having your head hit for quite a while. In fact, she appeared to act more like Michael McIntyre than anything else - bounding energetically around the room, presenting the results of hitting one's head with the air of Father Christmas announcing it's a free-for-all with the contents of his sack.

"Of course, what people lose most is their inhibitions," she said, "so beware, ladies..."

There are men on this course too, you know. We'd get shocked with people losing their inhibitions too.

"...they can become really quite sexual. That's nothing to be afraid of, but remember, they've had a bump on their head; it's not who they are, you know?"

Right. So people aren't sexual. They just become so when they get a bang on the head. I wonder if I fell out of my cot at the age of 2 or something.

Mind you, if I did get a bang on my head and suddenly become, as this lecturer claims, sexual, then that explains the faux pas I made this afternoon, when I happened to be discussing a presentation I'm meant to be putting together with a hastily assembled group (me and three girls, one of whom I'm not convinced exists). We're covering a large range of topics in the presentation, so I volunteered myself - as a very spiritually inclined person - to tackle the subject of spirituality.

"Anything else?" asked one of my teammates.

"Oh, and sex. I want to do sex!" I said.

Yes, I really did say that.

Ain't nobody here but us newsreaders

College today was full of new people. That's right, new intake and all. I walked through the doors in a slightly bemused fashion at 11am this morning and was surrounded by students with goofy American accents shouting things like, "oh my gawd... nu ciddy... nu me, yunno?" They were everywhere. It's like some sort of swarm. Last year, when I was in their position, I maintained myself as an outsider for quite a while (read: did EVERYTHING ON MY OWN) before I settled into the more established route of collecting "friends". This crowd, it seemed, had already learned how to hunt in a pack.

When a friend of mine informed me that an American newsreader named Ernie Anastos had accidentally said "keep fuckin' that chicken" on live TV (watch the clip, it's hilarious), he also noted the expression of Anastos' co-anchor (see fig. 1, left, a woman clearly in a state of extreme shock) after she realised what he'd said. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what he said. I mean, he clearly said "fuckin' that chicken", but that doesn't really mean anything of any great value (unless you happen to be into that sort of thing).

So what did he mean? Did he mean to say "chokin' that chicken?" In which case, he'd be advocating masturbation on live TV. I'm all for the promotion of masturbation, but it's not really what you'd expect to see in a news segment. It's more likely that he meant to say "pluckin' that chicken", but then again, why the chicken would he want to say that anyway? I mean, it's perhaps the most incongruous statement since Miley Cyrus shouted "Fuck you, motherfucker!" on her most recent teen-friendly DVD (disclaimer: this didn't actually happen, but I want it to). Perhaps he did mean to say "fuck". It sounds like a dare to me.

Not that any of the new students on my course would have any qualms about it. I overheard snatches of a very loud conversation between two of the American transfers today which contained the line "don't have sex, don't have sex standing up, don't have sex lying down, just don't do it." The context of which statement eludes me. Maybe she was just practicing for a seminar she'd give that night on abstinence. I know, that's a very unlikely thing for a girl in her late teens/early twenties to do, but at least if she was, she could always mention what sort of troubles fucking could get you into.

Just ask Ernie Anastos.

Oh, yeah?

I once wrote a post in which every line ended with the word "yeah?". Like most posts in this blog, it was mostly satirical, insofar as I don't actually think people actually talk like that.

At least, I didn't until I was taking a little walk around the corridors at work today and I heard the line "it's sexual, yeah?" from behind me. Taking a sneaky glance, I saw two very casual-looking workers strolling along behind me. They were smiling. This usually means trouble.

"He hit 'er on the back of the 'ead when she was about to come, yeah?"

This didn't sound like the sort of conversation I would be looked upon favourable for eavesdropping into. I sped up and pushed my way through some double doors. They followed.

"But, like, this one time... he hit 'er on the 'ead too hard, an' he murdered 'er, yeah?"

I almost fell over in shock.

Before I made my decision between continuing with my task and running away screaming (possibly hurling myself out of a window, seeing as how it seemed to be the closest way out), the guy exonerated himself with the simple sentence:

"It's a British film, yeah?"

At which point I started breathing again. I'd forgotten what a pleasant sensation that could be.

Still, I've now come from work deciding that the British film industry has a lot to answer for all of a sudden.

Promises, promises...

"After we make love by candlelight, can we live happily ever after?"
"Yes."

I'll let you all know how it goes.

SYREN DE MER ( BELLISIMA NALGONA PERVERSA ANAL)

SYREN DE MER ( BELLISIMA NALGONA PERVERSA ANAL)

DVD: " SYREN DE MER AKA FILTHY WHORE"

DURACION: 190 MINUTOS

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COMO TE PODRAS DAR CUENTA ESTA MUJER ES POSEEDORA DE UNA HABILIDAD ANAL DIGNA DE CAMPEONATO...Y DEL MEJOR CULO DE LA INDUSTRIA PORNO

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