i hate everything

this morning i wake my ass up at 515 am, put on approx 3 layers of lycra and two fleeces, hurriedly eat some hummus, and haul my ass to the train station in order to catch a 630 am train to reading. at reading, i switch to another train to taplow, which is actually the smallest hamlet ever, ergo this train stops at every stop constructed. all the while i am sitting by the most mind numbingly annoying motherfucking texan under the sun, who likes to tell everyone in earshot that he is reading a book on finance, which is apparently what he is going into, except he is such an asswipe wanker that wall street would swallow him alive. it may quite possibly be the only time in life in which i will root for a douchey ivy league financier.

now, i realise that this sounds quite elitist of me, but it's nothing like a cowboy boots wearing, pearl snap button owning, guitar twanging douchebag, whose about me on facebook actually contains the sentence, "I take a lot of pride in my GPA in college because the more I live, the more I realize that everything I put my name on is a cumulative representation of the quality of my character and worth as a person" to bring out the bitch. but seriously though. say what you will about john paulson and co, but they are hitters. they are greedy, materialistic, hedonistic and paragons of douchebaggery, but they are successful in the way they like, and they got away with a shit ton. (65 mill in 25 min?) texas, not so much. texas doesn't think that people in the states take the piss out of texas. texas boasts that saying something unpopular might get your face punched in in texas.

i hate him. in addition, he can't row for shit. i do not seek a lot. i seek only clean catches. and for my stroke seat to not turn around WHILE HE IS ROWING and scream at the rest of the boat to "follow the stroke!" they know. and if they don't, i will activate my asian smoker manvoice and inform them of the fact. that's why i'm there and have a microphone, while you are the idiot with the potbelly and bad haircut who looks embarrassing in spandex.

not to mention that he may possibly be one of the most unattractive people i have ever seen. it's like if god was feeling tired the day he was born and decided to pop some adderall to concentrate, but totally focused on the wrong thing, and spent the rest of the day creating the biological anomaly that is the platypus instead of actually making this kid a fully functional and non-inherently offensive human being. seriously, if it were legal to issue asbos for being a such a soul crushing toolbag cuntass cocksucking mother fucker that one is actually a public safety concern (he may actually induce mass suicides in more emotionally delicate places of the world), HE WOULD HAVE ONE SLAPPED ON THAT SMARMY FACE RIGHT NOW.

anyway.

back to my story.

the continuation of my journey: after approximately 45 minutes on the train, we got off at taplow and took a cab to dorney lake, which is where the eton college rowing team practices. the isis is actually overflowing onto the bank right now, and if we row we may die here, so coach decided to take us on a journey to more or less london to practice. which would be fine. the boathouse at dorney is huge, it was sunny, the entire course was wide and buoyed, and the water flat and still.

oh wait.

except the reason it was flat and still was because it was FROZEN SOLID.

which would have been nice to know, you know, like before we left oxford. so basically, returned, via car, back to taplow station, then back to reading, then back to oxford.

and now i am down 13 quid and five hours of my life.

in other news, the ginger bartender who i have facetiously been creeping on since october has been successfully pulled. things have been learned: the redheaded are extremely pale but not always freckly, the english are inordinately obssessed with snow, ginger texts like he has an asbo, skipper has chlamydia, and things only work out with your supreme hookup fantasy when he has to leave for south america in three weeks. oh, and he will be there for THREE MONTHS.

THIS IS ACTUALLY ASS. EAT IT ABDULLAH.

PURITANS. WHY.

not eating with six people

today, an entry with special guest blogger stephanie lepp.

we chose this picture because maybe it will deter steph's previous stalker, who sounds like a creepo lunatic and really should, for the good of humanity, find a washing machine full of knives and jump in.

perhaps not that bloody.

just like fling himself off a building that is more than 9 stories tall.

today we are going to hall alone because we don't like anyone else because they are bitches except zeina and p to the riyanka and abdullah and nathan. we also are elitist snobs and hate people who are country. and dumpster dive. because they're not girly girls.

people who were born in 1990 or later are perplexing. rosie hooked up with one and now feels like she should like....grow a pedo stache and wear flannel and have unspeakable things in her garage or something. just to conform to stereotype.

actually since she is a woman this makes her a couger. this means that she can wear inappropriately tight clothing and too much makeup and have an inexplicable and really unnecessary (and slightly painful) predilection for leopard print. and she would have no friends because everyone would secretly hate her but they'd feel bad because clearly she was trying to make up for some kind of emotional drought by going about children.

stephanie also knows legit hipsters but since they're legit didn't know what a hipster was until she got here, in which case a young lady informed her that hipsters dumpster dive and own beet farms.

actually, now that stephanie thinks about it, he only picks beets. he just harvests them. he doesn't actually own the beet farm.

rosie and steph agree that owning a beet farm would make him the Man. and that's not cool. that's falling prey to the system.

oh the unaware masses.

also, nice boys win. in the end.

douchebags turn into wifebeaters and then get sent to prison. or they're super rich but women only like them for their money. (and their huge penis. -steph)

(rosie disagrees with the above comment and thinks that rich boys have small penises because their douchey ways have to be overcompensating for something.)

the kappa face: "i know you but i'm only going to acknowledge you as a lesser being."

you know things are bad when...

you wake up with a start because you were in such a deep sleep and you're convince that you've slept through your alarm and are fucked, only to discover that in fact your alarm is scheduled to go off in two minutes and you've managed to fall into a near coma in actually 7 minutes.

need some advice

how does one seduce a redheaded bartender.

why

overheard at bar:

"i told you, all the asians are mine!"

why can i never escape?

alas

so between burying my head in my arms while crying over the amount of work i have, and eating chips with cheese at hassan's, i went to see black kids last night. things to note:

1. british people don't really mosh so much as drunkenly stumble around in close proximity to one another.
2. the lead singer of black kids does that kind of funny dance that looks like he really needs to pee IN REAL LIFE. ALL THE TIME.


3. thai food here is just not the same.
4. as a result of #1, i now have the mother of all bruises on my foot.
5. it was a pretty unattractive crowd. not gonna lie.

6. that's about it. i would be more detailed, but i drank and entire bottle of wine and was like this BEFORE i went to the show.