Bye Bye Baby
In between being chewed by my demonstrator for confusing cell mediums and thusly mass culling my precious babies, I've been sluugging away on the old project. Not enjoying it at all to be honest. The supervisors are extremely unpleasant to work for and as a result of my error earlier on and their response (over the top and humiliating) I certainly don't feel like I can approach them.
But of course one can't be jumping horses mid-stream so will have to stick it out and hope for the best. In other news David, my flatmate, moved out back home on Weds to pastuers...errr...well sunnier I'd imagine. It certainly has been an interesting experience living with a breeder for the last 9 months. It only really served to confirm my belief that homosexuals are just superior to their hetero brethren. We performed the courtesy of swapping emails upon his departure and I informed him that if I was ever over his side of the world I'd pop by with some Mr.Muscle and a shamy cloth.
I've found a new place to live for the "delightful" summer months here in G and needless to say it contains more of those breeder sorts. This time however I do believe I'm going to have to contend with three of the smelly fuckers. The house is nice enough, I've a large double bedroom and my own bathroom so at the very least I'll have a refuge from their straightness at times. Other then throwing them looks of contempt every time they mention football/breast or freaking out every time they use my toaster, I'm quite confident I'll have little interaction with them. Although having said that I actually haven't met any of them yet so I'm unsure as to how they rate on the ming scale. We shall see, chance would be a fine thing however that at least one of them would serve the purpose of my forever unrequited man lustings.
News of my love for the fabulousness of the Eurovision Song Contest amoungst my class mates has generated some mocking, which comes as no surprise, I expected as much from these country folk. After all if it doesn't involve copious amounts of alcohol and a shocking good jig accompanied by a tin whistle down the local thatched roofed bar I wouldn't imagine it'd be their cup of tea. Oh and the whole fact that the competition is just one big Gay fest might be another contributing factor too. Gutted that Belgium didn't make it through the qualifiers, their entry was pop-ilicious however the fact that Iceland were booed off the stage re-affirmed that the selection process was sound enough. I couldn't help but feel though that the quality of the songs from the 23 countries attempting to qualify yesterday was of a much higher standard then those that automatically gained entry. We shall just have to wait and see, roll on Sat
But of course one can't be jumping horses mid-stream so will have to stick it out and hope for the best. In other news David, my flatmate, moved out back home on Weds to pastuers...errr...well sunnier I'd imagine. It certainly has been an interesting experience living with a breeder for the last 9 months. It only really served to confirm my belief that homosexuals are just superior to their hetero brethren. We performed the courtesy of swapping emails upon his departure and I informed him that if I was ever over his side of the world I'd pop by with some Mr.Muscle and a shamy cloth.
I've found a new place to live for the "delightful" summer months here in G and needless to say it contains more of those breeder sorts. This time however I do believe I'm going to have to contend with three of the smelly fuckers. The house is nice enough, I've a large double bedroom and my own bathroom so at the very least I'll have a refuge from their straightness at times. Other then throwing them looks of contempt every time they mention football/breast or freaking out every time they use my toaster, I'm quite confident I'll have little interaction with them. Although having said that I actually haven't met any of them yet so I'm unsure as to how they rate on the ming scale. We shall see, chance would be a fine thing however that at least one of them would serve the purpose of my forever unrequited man lustings.
News of my love for the fabulousness of the Eurovision Song Contest amoungst my class mates has generated some mocking, which comes as no surprise, I expected as much from these country folk. After all if it doesn't involve copious amounts of alcohol and a shocking good jig accompanied by a tin whistle down the local thatched roofed bar I wouldn't imagine it'd be their cup of tea. Oh and the whole fact that the competition is just one big Gay fest might be another contributing factor too. Gutted that Belgium didn't make it through the qualifiers, their entry was pop-ilicious however the fact that Iceland were booed off the stage re-affirmed that the selection process was sound enough. I couldn't help but feel though that the quality of the songs from the 23 countries attempting to qualify yesterday was of a much higher standard then those that automatically gained entry. We shall just have to wait and see, roll on Sat