Blogging with attention deficit

Ben's room in the flat, evening. ADRIENNE enters, exhausted from a long hard day of swimming in the river and lounging in Port Meadow eating Doritos. BEN is in his room after a day of dicking about in a lab or whatever it is he does to waste time these days.

ADRIENNE:

(semi naked)

Hey Ben, where is my shower gel? It all appears to have been used by a person who isn't me.

BEN:

Oh, yes. About that.

ADRIENNE:

Am I going to have to buy more?

BEN:

... uh- oh, no...

(He goes to the wardrobe and searches. Moments later, he reappears with a girly white bag.)

Merry Christmas.

(He hands the bag to ADRIENNE)

ADRIENNE:

This is a massage set? Why do you-

BEN:

Yeah, I've had it all year. I'm sure there's a women's shower gel in there...

ADRIENNE:

Well, great. Also, you used all the shampoo... don't suppose you can fix that?

BEN:

Actually...

(He returns to the wardrobe. Moments later he returns with a large stack of Herbal Essences sample packets. They are designed for highlighted hair but otherwise usable.)

Will these do?

ADRIENNE:

You- these- what the fuck.

BEN gives the shampoo to ADRIENNE

BEN:

Well, enjoy.

ADRIENNE:

Uh, yeah. Thanks, I think.

Since that last insistence that I liek totly hate shoes, I have bought some enormous dominatrix heels for the bop. 11cm, to be exact. I normally hate heels with a passion because they mess with my sense of place in the world (i.e. most men are taller, most women are shorter, nobody is too far either way*) but at the same time, I seem to have fallen prey to the idea that I must look nothing short of amazing for this event and anything I actually DO pull out of the bag somehow won't be enough. Hence the shoes. I will wear shoes because it is the Thing to Do.

On the same note, I had a massive dress panic due to the wasting state of my muscles and the growing state of my upper body fat. It turns out that I don't normally slouch, though, so testing what I look like in my dress whilst slouching was a little... pointless. I should be OK. It's not like anybody expects me not to look fat...?

I got my reading lists through for doing Chinese politics next term, which has put an end to two years of worrying about the whole "oh my god you'll have to ballot for that course it's soooo popular" thing that all of the PPE handbooks have going on. China's going out of fashion, so I'm assuming everybody else on it is as specifically China-faggy as me. I'm probably the only one with a massive academic hard-on for Xinjiang though. My thesis preparations are still awfully unprepared, but apparently I need to Not Panic.

I'm leaving in two days. Don't Panic.

My hair is getting blonde bits in the sun, and I don't like it. Although... maybe I should go blonde-ish for a change (blonde blonde would be sick and wrong). I feel like I've let go of hair dying too quickly. Or I could try purple again and see if it actually works this time.

I got one more night in 126a. It's best I don't summarise that year or I'll break my no-angst promise. Let's just say that next time I have to choose housemates on six weeks of knowing them, I'm going to make sure they're all gay, camp or charmingly coupled men under 5'10. Oh and that I actually DO know them.

Speaking of housemates, I hope That One is gone from the kitchen so I can go steal the Other One's biscuits.

*falls apart in China, alas