Well, I've figured I've got nothing to lose, so I might as well start diary-like blogging once more. There may be some useful tidbits of computing-related information included, and there will probably be a lot of things you'd rather you hadn't read. Hopefully not too many, though.

Today started at 11, after I discovered my alarm clock hadn't gone off at 10:50 to wake me up. Either that, or I had just turned it off without realising it and dozed back off. Had my first can of Pepsi of the day. I then proceeded to check email (and newsgroups, and Facebook, and OxGoss, and OxRo, and Boso; consider that an abbreviation); had a shower, then slowly consumed one of the two 150g bars of Fairtrade chocolate I got at the Coop last night. Checked the pidge (nothing had come for me, surprisingly enough), and went back to my room.

Natalie rang; I went over to Trinity to meet her and Alex. We proceeded to the Fowl and Foetus; I had a Diet Pepsi, Nat had Coke, and Al had Strongbow (most ladylike!). We chatted, and eventually decided to get food. At this point I got myself another Diet Pepsi. After a while, my sausage and mash came (very nice). We chatted for a while afterwards; my love life came into the discussion. Alex suggested numerous ways for me to pull, all of which seemed to involve drinking. After each I reminded her that I didn't drink, but the conversation kept coming back to Alex suggesting another activity that involved me drinking. Clubbing without drinking also came up, but to be honest I think I'd enjoy cutting off my own toes with a rusty blunt axe more.

No one seems to understand that I can't dance. Lots of people say that, but I'm certain that I'm different. (But then, who isn't?) The usual reply is "Neither can I, but I do", or words to that effect. I can't really put into words (might do later in an edit if I work out how) why this is different, but it just is. When I'm on a dance floor (which is rare enough), I'm paralysed: I cannot move. Having "GO ON, DANCE!" shouted at me doesn't really help this. I blame dyspraxia (but I do that for most things, makes me seem like I just want a scapegoat rather than solving my problems). Maybe I should take dance classes.

Might be going to G&D's tomorrow with Nat, depending what she decides when she leaves Al (Al has to go rowing). After getting back to college from the Bird and Baby, I had my second can of regular Pepsi of the day, after which I killed time online and then built myself a 6-tier can tetrahedron (of which I'm most proud, despite it being rather sad - picture below [yes, my room is messy, and the photo is blurred {and yes, I do like nested brackets}]), having amassed enough cans to do so. Then went to watch Doctor Who.

Thanks to the FA Cup Final going to penalties, Doctor Who was 20 minutes late starting. The residents of the TV room were most worried that we'd got the wrong channel or something, until we worked this out. Doctor Who was well worth the wait, though, and was quite scary, ending with a cliffhanger (being the first two-parter of this series). I won't give any spoilers away, but it has zeppelins. Everyone loves zeppelins. Anyway, upon the conclusion of that, I came back here and drank my third can of Pepsi and devoured my second bar of chocolate (making a total of 300g consumed today). And now my eyelid is hurting - most annoying, as I'm not even tired yet (the only cure I've found is to sleep). Maybe I'll have to see a doctor about it at some stage - it's only ever my right eyelid, and always roughly the same place on it. And always in the evening. Most odd.

Sorry if I've bored you. You didn't have to read it, though.