(Can you believe there’s no ‘Alliteration Is Demented Society’ yet? Perhaps I should found it, to stop the rampant meme-use of alliteration across the blogosphere. Though, I would call it the ‘Abolition of the Abject Abuse of Alliteration Association’. Just for ironic kicks. Even if the acronym isn’t quite as good.)
This was actually going to come yesterday (Time-Warp Wednesday), but April 1st just happened to fall on the Wednesday, so I quickly had to fabricate a hoax suitable for the occasion!
Now brace yourself. This might come as a shock to some — and I hope I haven’t broken any more hearts – but, putting my finger on the proverbial nub, I’m afraid to say the fact of the matter is, I’m not gay. An overwhelming abundance of facts might lead you to believe that I’m lying — that I’ve jumped back into the proverbial closet, not quite ready to face the music, or my father’s face over fudge sauce — but I assure you, I am straight. As straight as an arrow fired from Artemis’ bow; or perhaps from a cherub’s bow — but into the heart of a woman, not a man. I like sticking it in women. Believe me, I’ve tried both, and women are just plain better; warmer, tastier and infinitely more pliable.
With that little embarassing fact out of the way, I welcome you to Time-Travel Thursday. Please follow me as I take a trip down my often-emo and angst-ridden LiveJournal memory lane. I was going to start from the beginning, but to be honest I ran out of patience reading back through page after page of geeky, inane drivel. Turns out it only goes back to when I was 19 — I thought it went back much further! I was hoping for some juicy, self-hating nobody-likes-me entries from my mid-teens, but I’m afraid they’re all from the end of my first year, after the Lesbian Encounter — an encounter that hardened me considerably (emotionally).
Though, there are the journals of a few of my past… girlfriends… that I could have a leaf through to check if there’s anything particuarly juicy about me which I can post next week.
Let me tell you a story… — March 19th, 2005
As some of you may or may not know: I quite like cheese.
My love of cheese didn’t really make itself quite so pronounced until I came to university however. That first time I ever visited Tesco, the supermarket, looking for a ‘fix’ of cheese. “10 varieties of cheddar! 5 ratings of strength and maturity!” I squeaked excitedly.
I remember that day as if it was yesterday – yet it was over 2 and a half years ago.
So, the weeks passed, I sought harder and stronger fixes of cheeses. I stuck mainly to the soft French cheese and English cheddars. Camemberts came and went; de meaux, unpasteurised brie came, and left with a little bit more of a smell.
Grade 3 cheddar became Grade 4 which in turn maxed out at Grade 5. I branched out to Irish cheddar, Canadian cheddar.
You name it, I’ve had it. From Havarti to Emmental to Chaumes.
I thought that I’d tried everything, that I’d never find a harder, more exciting cheese.
My life is now complete.
And thus concludes this week’s fantastic insight into the life of final-year university student, Spring 2005.
I was going to ‘analyse’ it, but I figured it’d be a lot more fun if I simply answer any questions that pop up… so do your worst! (There’s actually a fun story about me, cheese and my first year at university — a goose egg one, but still one that needs to be told!)
Plus, anything that makes you look at that truly atrocious photo for more than a few seconds must be a good thing.