Well it's that time of year again. Having spent the last 2 weeks excruciatingly wringing out enough coherent thought to write 7000 words worth (see what I did there?) of intelligible prose, I am now confronted with the depressing spectre of my two exams. I know I shouldn't be complaining, but I'm a man of simple pleasures. Mainly I like bacon, sitting down and the odd head scratch. Anything which disturbs this heavenly scene is treated as a rude interruption and must be treated with the utmost disdain and usually misplaced sarcastic comments that, on reflection, don't really make too much sense. Anyway, the point is I don't want to study any more. Having to write about thermodynamics in an essay on American fiction nearly made my increasingly leaky brain collapse in on itself. Fucking Thomas Pynchon and his complex themes of communication theory. Just write a nice story about animals with no complex ideas like Beatrix Potter, or George Orwell before he went got all cerebral and wrote a novel about how everyone in the 80s would speak as if they had stepped from the pages of a shit romance novel and get pissed on gin all the time (again, misplaced sarcastic/facetious remarks are often my downfall).
In other news I managed to watch Kick Ass again. Not really sure how, but I was pretty bored and my flatmate wanted to see it again. It stood up to another viewing pretty well, but this time around I couldn't get it out of my head that the main character was being portrayed by a douche, having found out in the meantime that he's knocked up his 50 year old fiance, and he's 19 and dresses like those cunts in the Topman adverts that have that contrived scruffy-yet-oh-so-cool look that makes me want to punch them in the Adam's apple then tell them to read Das Kapital. It would probably make them more cunty to be honest, they'd become champagne socialists and sit in their Primrose Hill squats with each other reading J.D Salinger and Roland Barthes, waiting for Arthur to return from the latest croissant run to Camden Lock. What a load of imaginary berks.
I also bought some new DLC for Mass Effect 2, it was pretty fun and would recommend getting it for the low low price of 1/6 of the game's initial cost for around 2 extra hours gameplay. It was good, but pretty much a ripoff. At least I get an extra character for those side missions I'm not going to do and 15G to add to the gamerscore that I feel dirty for caring about.
Tomorrow sees Inter travel to Camp Nou (yes Camp Nou, you don't hear Spanish people calling Old Trafford, Trafford Old) and try to hold onto their 3-1 lead to get to the final, which seems like it will essentially be a walk in the park for whoever wins tomorrow. How a team with a defence as shoddy as Bayern's can get to the final is beyond me. They've got Zorro at the back for fuck's sake! Anyway hopefully it will be a decent watch, and I'm watching it at Guy's campus so it should be deserted cos Man United aren't playing. (for those of you who don't know why that's funny, it's because Guy's campus is where everyone who does sciences/medicine has the majority of their classes, and as a result it has a high asian population, and everyone knows that nearly every asian person that exists supports Man United. Check back tomorrow for more racial stereotypes.)
There's some music I want to write about but will do it in a less rage-inflected entry tomorrow or something, I need some sleep.
