Unsurprisingly, the heat wave has unleashed the beasts; or, to be more precise, a number of beasts with very different agendas. More bizarre, however, is the chosen stomping ground of these hot-blooded creatures whose switches have flicked.
The world’s gone to hell in an electronic handbasket, in my humble opinion, as Fitfinder has taken our little haven by storm.
Much to my dismay, particularly as I have recently purchased some rather fetching underwear, I haven’t been hit on in weeks. Not even by the man I bought the underwear from.
Rather than make a beeline for the object of their affections, the lusty masses seem to be running home – not to take a cold shower, but to “post a fittie”.
This website is seeing more action than all my acquaintances combined; and it’s all rather unsatisfying.
Clothes aren’t being ripped off in passionate exchanges; they are being chosen more carefully though, and I think perhaps the victors of this most recent fad are the locals gyms, and fashion gurus.
There are a lot fewer badly dressed people lurking around on campus and a lot more gleaming, toned upper bods, as Fitfinder seems to have ignited a ridiculously heightened level of self-awareness that appears unrivalled.
The guys and gals are dressing to impress their anonymous admirers, and it’s making for a much more aesthetically pleasing campus experience.
I firmly believe that the increased foot traffic in and around the library has nothing whatsoever to do with frenzied cramming and dissertation distress and that it is, in fact, a bi-product of the Fitfinder phenomenon.
Hordes of would-be-fitties are clustering in the selection of Fitfinder approved areas, pacing up and down apparently in search of books but clearly out to catch some poor, studious bloke’s wandering eye.
I personally have seen the number of neon outfits skyrocket in recent weeks – and let’s face it, there’s always got to be another reason for neon. Stripes, polka dots, loud tribal prints- yes, I hear you cry, all standard summer wear, but also – perfect peacock material.
You know it makes sense: tell me you haven’t wondered about the girl in your seminar with a large red carnation tacked precariously and dangerously close to her breast; or the guy who really shouldn’t be wearing a wife-beater, but is.
It has also been responsible for a surge in comedy chat-up lines. If you’re not hearing them in real life, they are a fantastic cheer up technique. People are getting all metaphorical literal – “you could fill my bagel anytime”- which makes a pleasant change from “you have great tits and a good face”.
Anyway, move over Facebook, hello Fitfinder- it’s the first thing I check when I get home.
My personal approach to making my debut has been to streak through Vanbrugh: simple, but effective. And after all, it is hot.
I witnessed a far more exciting passage through Vanbrugh though, a week or so ago as I made my way home and stumbled across the miracle of imagination that was ‘Gangsta V’. If the event’s tagline hadn’t persuaded you: “Is right rude boi! Peep this! Your blazing squad of Ents Reps are bringin’ it on back with yet ANOTHER stella Volume Event!”. Sorry, not ‘if’, of course, I meant ‘of course’. Anyway, if the impressive press and publicity ghettospeak hadn’t tickled your medallion, the bevy of beautiful biatches certainly would have. Chains, bootys, natty headgear: everything you want to have decorate your floor for one night only. I was assailed by “Wasssup gurrrl” and in an utterly blind panic, let my first instinct took over: pulled down his saggy jeans so far that they would interfere with his faux gangster limp, and made a run for it. I heard the fire of bb imitation guns explode behind me, but happily survived with dignity intact and bruise free.
The furore surrounding stalled SinneD ticket sales also seems to have taken place predominantly online; and as “increased server space” means as little to me as “Liberal Conservative”, I chose to look for the humour.
Within the torrent of mature and considered response to this publication’s article outlining the outrage, there were a few flashes of hilarity that I only wish could be attributed to the people responsible.
The situation grew to such a scale that it attracted the attentions of Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh, who proved indispensable in breaking up the barney; but my personal favourite was the “I pressed F5 repeatedly on YUSU’s website just to crash it. Taking the Bullet LAD.”
Whoever this person is, I would like to extend to him or her (yes, the invitation stands regardless) an offer of a night of pure, unadulterated passion- or a lovely set of La Senza underwear, whatever floats your boat.
Although I’m sure this brilliant expression of wit provided little comfort to those who had lost valuable working hours or gone away empty-handed from that grim website, it did lighten the mood somewhat.
Anyway, in the heat of the moment, we forgot what aspect of SinneD should really have been making us howl and moan and tear out our hair: the organising committee’s recently released promo.
Sloth had me prematurely excited, and by Lust I was positively frothing at the mouth. Take my advice, boys and girls – it’s as good as watching your favourite cinematic sex scene.
Obviously this recommendation does not actually apply to the lucky kind of sinner who’s seeing some kind of action, virtual or physical. Then you can tell me to get a life or, alternatively, keep it in my pants.
Either way, I’m going to be relieved when the heat dies down.