My Body Is A Temple

No matter how run down, or crumbling it may be, it most definitely is. My Uni house is also my castle. I am the temple within the castle. This is the view I've been taking on not allowing boys to use me. One boy in particular has been getting under my skin this week, and I've decided to firmly banish him, as I'm pretty sure I know what his game is.
Men think they're so clever and inconspicuous, when in reality they're about as inconspicuous as genital herpes. Glamourous comparison, I know.

I'm the wrong girl to pick to try and use. I'm unforgiveably sharp with it, terribly suspicious, very cynical, and a complete pessimist. Its a no hoper from day one, basically. I figure it out and bag it off.

SPEAKING OF TRUE LOVE (har har) I'm at a wedding tommorow. Big congratulations to Sharon and John :)

This is unfortunately only a quick blog, because my parents are picking me up from Uni today to take me home and take me out for some Thai food on the seafront. Good times.
How lovely to be in a nice, safe, secure environment when Fresher's hath ravaged my body so. That said, however, my parents do drink a hell of alot of wine :(

Peace x

The Dawning of the Freshers

Here it comes, the inevitable tide of colds, hangovers, and embarrassing memories. Freshers week. For those of you who don't know what Freshers Week involves at University, which I think will be a highly minute number, Freshers Week is a week of constant drinking and partying and general horseplay, before the classes start. Pretty much every Uni has one, apart from about, like, three, and they're all probably in the highlands or in underground caves where real people don't live.

I'm a bit annoyed at myself coz I misjudged Freshers and thought it started LAST week, but it doesn't. So I've probably wasted alot of money living here before Freshers that could and should have been used ON freshers. No point crying over spilt milk, though, so grind down, get on with it, buy the nastiest alcohol based product available and get pissed all week for forty quid.

You're probably thinking this: 'Well don't go out then. Save your money, and avoid general illness'.

The answer to that is 'Don't be so ridiculous'

If you miss your uni's freshers, you might as well go and set up your room in the library, eat fair trade nuts for breakfast, lunch and dinner and become universitally (see what I did there?) known as an inbred social recluse. That's not a bloody exaggeration either. To be fair, though, I've got to leave on Thursday to go to my best Friend's mum's wedding, so I'm missing a little bit of Fresher's week. Its probably for the best. I can't count the amount of days I was ill last year.

In other news, I've dyed my hair red. Twice for maximum effect, actually. What with me having very dark hair, I needed two dyes so I didn't look merely like someone was shining a red light on my hair. Here's a drunk picture of me and Tasha so you get the idea

Excuse the flower in my hair, I stole it from a nice flower trough near the Brayford walking back from a takeaway.

Here cometh Freshers, to strip you of your money, health, and dignity.

Unfortunately, we wouldn't have it any other way.

I am a Detective

Hey there


We went out last night. God it was an abusive night. My freind Sam came down, and he got abused as the only boy out with us. My house mate hid his car keys in the oven this morning. It didn't confuse him much, he just looked like he wanted to throw up as he tried to think.






We got nicely drunk on some Lambrini; which as you all probably know is dirty.


The second part of abuse came in the queue. We had some pushers. Some posh bastards who thought they could muscle in because they were born with silver spoons in thier mouths and sticks up thier arses. Abby called them 'cock sucking motherfuckers'. I'm not joking.


The third portion of abuse came because we were dancing near some proper geeky guys for a laugh. And Abby asked them if they 'liked girls'. Thier answer was that they did, but they 'didn't like to pay for them'. Abby's answer to THAT, was a swift one to the face.



The fourth came because we stole some flowers, and a passer by said 'why have you ruined those flowers?'. The reply 'why have you ruined your hair'. We were probably asking for it really.



Sam eventually came home, fell up the stairs, and scared the life out of me.



My two funny things this blog. One isn't that funny. Someone has mashed up Michael Jackson and Patrick Swayze to come up with a track called 'Beat the Wind'. Laugh if you want, its okay.


http://hypem.com/track/907066/



Second funny thing, I was walking past my local fish and chip shop the other day, and I noticed a poster for a missing cat in it's window. This missing cat had a fantastically ironic name. Wait for it..




















Scampi.


You don't believe me do you? I knew you wouldn't. It's fine, I brought proof:

There you have it sports fans. I'm pretty sure I know where the cat is. Lathered in salt and vinger and being eaten by the Lincoln equivalent of Jack and Vera Duckworth.

I'm off to spend my day, parked on the sofa, dying quietly, pretending I'm a detective by playing Sleuth online, and eating frazzles.

Peace x

That Game

Hello!

So, we're all moved into our new house in Lincoln, me and my three lovely housemates. Last night we had some wine and lasange and watched Ace Ventura and Dumb and Dumber (you guessed it, Jim Carey marathon).
One of the magical things about being at University is the games you invent to pass the time. Now, last year, when I was in halls, I WAS the game. My two male housemates made thier way through the first year barricading me in my room with chairs, putting leaves through my window to make 'a garden' and putting my game boy in the fridge to convince me I was going loopy. Oddly enough I still love those boys.

The game we've come up with is thus: we stick a condom on the fridge, and the first housemate to use it in sexual activity wins. The losers have to do a forfeit, which will probably end up being expensive and humiliating on my part. Me and one of my housemates also play another game, which has both made us cry with laughter and realise that we are probably pretty bad people at times.

Me and the housemate in question are both from the same place, and hang out at home, and mutually know a boy who happens to be unfortunate looking (however the thinks otherwise) and have invented a game revolving around this person. For the sake of identity, we'll call him James. The game is 'James Or..', in which me and my housemate present eachother with scenarios. For example, one went:

'James or Chlamidia?'
'...Chlamidia... you can get rid of that.. can't really get rid of James'

I know, its pretty terrible to say the least. We've come up with all sorts of agonizing scenarios. James or David Dickinson (Dickinson triumphed), James or Josef Fritzl, etc.

Trust me, its amusing when you're as sick as us and spend time treating yourself to crutons and flavoured lipgloss.

Tommorow we're going to head off to the Fresher's Fayre to steal many a wooden spatula and tinned foodstuffs.

I know, the stereotypical student lives. Viva la Cuppa Soup.

x

A New House, And A Few Home Truths

I have a brilliant quote for you guys today.

'Friendship? Loyalty? They're just old fusty words to you, aren't they? Like sixpence or codpiece' - Mark Corrigan, Peep Show.

These words will set the tone for today's blog. I've been very busy recently. On Tuesday I moved into my new house in Lincoln, ready for a fun filled freshers week and my next stage of academic career.

On arriving back at Uni I recieved the unpleasant fact that a supposed freind of mine had been keeping her mouth busy round my ex boyfreind. Now, the first thing to say is that I'm not a bunny boiler. I can understand when shit is over, and I don't beg, plead, or dwell publicly. I keep shtum, and I move the fuck on. I don't mind what my ex does, but I would appreciate it if he had the curtosey and discretion to keep it out of my circle of freinds, and off my fucking front door.

I went to a party when I got back, which was great. It was good to see everyone again, bar my said 'freind'. Given a few G'n T's I decided I had better bloody confront her, or else sit there and simmer casting occasional dark looks about, as she clearly didn't have the balls to tell me herself.

Unfortunately, what with me being the occasionally drunk and blunt person that I am, my opening line to our big chat was: 'So, I understand you sucked off my ex?'. Brilliant ice breaker, I'd say. Or ice creator, I'm not entirely sure; either way it gets things going doesn't it?

Now I'm not sure about you guys, but I've been told by multitudinous people that the way I have dealt with this from here on out is admirable. I have kept my hands in my pockets, and my attitude to a minimum. I've not been able to stop the sarcasm, unfortunately. Despite the many apologies I recieved from this person, the fact still remained that a line was crossed, and its pretty irrevokable. Loyalty to me is bloody important. Its a big part of who I am. I don't face life with the naivety that I once did, thinking of people as generally decent, and generally good, despite everything; but I still do expect a little bit of respect to come my way once in a while, when I am decent to people myself.

That's my rant over; and let it just suffice to say I'm going to move on from this, and keep dropping my occasional sarcastic comment to keep myself amused/satisfied. My favourite so far has been 'Hey ____ I think you left your concience in the living room :)'.

So I left my job, obviously to get back to Uni. My boss said 'So, what have you learned from this?' What have I learned? Just so you know, I worked in a mobile phone shop for the summer. This mobile phone shop happened to be placed in a town which is populated by considerable old people. So what did I learn.. I learnt there are some severally strange people in the older generation. Most of them were nothing extraordinary. The same line, all the time usually

'I dont want anything fancy, m'duck. None of this yellowtooth or whatever it is, no satellite T.V built in. I just want to make calls, and I dont want to send texters'

The little shit head inside of me is screaming this the whole time: 'Its bluetooth, no phones have TV's in them, and there really is no need for you to raise your voice, Vera'.

But then there's been some real weirdo's. One bloke came in, and he was dressed like this:

He called me 'darlin'', for starters, which is never good when you're speaking to me, but I had to find this guy hilarious. Because, I kid you not, his phone rang, okay, and it was this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxIuIxqo2So

At that point I cracked and had to pretend I was going to sneeze so I could run in the back and shake uncontrollably with laughter. He probably thought my face was spazaming. On leaving he said 'See ya later darlin', go home, make a BBQ and get drunk, in that order' and then he winked, and walked off, leaving me completely astounded at the amazing array of people that actually exist even though you think they cannot possibly be real.

So what did I learn? I learnt that The Doors had it right. People ARE strange.

Peace x