trevor

i’m writing this on the train now. on the way home, at last. although it’s a bit hard to concentrate. it’s all too tempting just to look out of the window and stare the the vast flat plains of york. i’m knackered, but it’s not like i’ve actually done anything worthwhile today. i had one group seminar, but we actually did some work in it for once. this is down to fear than any drive to do well. you see, at the start of the week we got an e-mail from the guy who co-ordinates all the political science research. turns out one of the swotty students got in contact with a tory mep and he came up to our uni for a meeting. everyone but our group went, hah! anyway, he got all excited at the shitty research that we’re doing, and he says that if we give our presentations three days earlier (grr) he’ll organise a press conference and there’s ‘a chance that our research could be policy-influencing.’ yeah right. the yorkshire post will turn up and it’ll get mentioned on radio minster and that’s your lot. but anyway, it sounds good when you tell it to people. so i’m already guilt-ridden that i faked five of my questionnaires. from this research all i’ve been able to conclude is that all research is complete bollocks.

anyway, enough about that. i was planning on writing about my weekend. and hurrah! i finally found someone to go to the indie night with – the indie rock chick that is lucy cocker. i was a bit unsure about why she’d want to go, as it’s all indie pop-tastic stuff (put it this way, the founder of the indie society likes everything on sarah records). lucy is very pretty and is one of those girls who likes to stand out. at the moment she has blond braid hair extensions with red streaks which reach her bum. you can’t help but feel dowdy next to her. i was a bit worried about our conversation because we’ve never just gone out as a couple, but it turns out we have quite a lot of common ground to work on – mainly our dislike of people from public school. really, it’s suprising how much material you can eek out of that subject. lucy’s worked behind the campus bars and knew all the special offers – so i was on trevor all night (that’s tre – tequila – vo – vodka – r – red bull). blergh. i thought i’d limit myself, but as usual, i’d had too many.

after we’d drunk in nearly all the campus bars (there are eight colleges and all but one have a bar) and we made it back to our college bar (halifax college) for the indie night. as soon as we’d got drinks babies came on so i had a good bop. the night got a bit blurry after that but let’s see what i can remember. we got back up to dance and lucy started talking to someone she knew, so i was stood on my own like a tit. there was a girl behind me who’d been stood for about five minutes trying to get the dj’s attention, and probably feeling even more of a lemon than i did. so i thought i’d give her a hand and wiggled my arms in front of him and then pointed in the girl’s direction. i turned around again. lucy was still deep in conversation with that bloke. darn. so i danced to god knows what and then suddenly the girl was back again, bleary eyed and stumbling, talking to me very fast. i had to keep asking her to say it again, say it again and i thought i heard the word ‘tits’ and then something like ‘my boyfriend didn’t believe we got a request to the dj.’ er, why? i had no idea, but she took my hand and skipped over to her chap, where she introduced me.

they were a very cute couple. she was a typical indie girl, with a short dark bob, even tinier than me and very petite. he was even more typical, all dark floppy hair, posing moodily and leaning on the games machine. she gabbled on about how he studied chemistry and she was at huddersfield university. i said i knew the area very well because i used to go to a college just up the road from huddersfield university. this information was met with a blank stare, which made me remember that she was a lot more drunk than i was. she told me their names, but i’ve no idea now. then we started dancing. oh god. then i started to think something was a bit suspect. we ended up dancing really closely, and she ended up half-gyrating next to me and steering me in the direction of her bloke. i managed to stand my ground as i didn’t fancy being a sweaty sock sandwich or, as i was beginning to wonder, being used for purposes of a threesome. but cocker had returned and started dancing we me again, much to the infuriating glances of the girl, who then vanished as quickly as she appeared. i don’t know.. i wondered if i’d over-reacted, but when i told lucy that i’d just met the girl i was dancing with, her sudden open-mouthed stare told me that she probably was a tad over-friendly.

we went to bed a couple of hours later, and i woke up every twenty minutes or so throughout the night unable to breathe, with a terrible bunged up nose. whether this is hayfever or a cold, i still haven’t been able to work out.

in other news, by some bizarre turn of events i ended up telling jack how to find the g-spot this morning (note: see there i said tell him, not show him!) then we suddenly realised ‘why the hell are we talking about this?’ he shook my hand afterwards. i hope claire will present me with flowers and chocolates when i get back on monday.

enough for now, i think!

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I read the G-spot is a myth. If you can actually tell someone where it is then that actually makes you a living scientific revolution. Also, of course all research is arse. My favourite reported piece of nonsense is that men think about sex six times every minute. There have been studies, apparently. Sure there have. I can imagine it’s an easy thing to report on.