Why Is the Wine Always Gone?

'Why is the wine always gone? Why isn't adam levine/matthew mcconaughey/tom meighan (any of them) my boyfriend? Why do I have work to do? WHY IS THE WINE ALWAYS GONE!??!?!?!?!?'

The above is a direct quote from my best friend. She is my best friend for a reason. Aside from her uncanny likeness to me in everything from penchants in online detective games to finding the sick amusing, she states the unfortunate truth.
The wine is ALWAYS gone. It is November, it is cold, it is droll, and my workload is gigantic. Its not because I'm behind. I'm never bloody behind, I'm just sprinting to catch up with my work load, which, quite frankly, moves as quick as Linford Christie on fucking steriods.
I used to think listening to the Beach Boys would solve most of my problems, and while that still stands, there is also my terrible terrible reality. I know what you're thinking. That I'm a student that goes out and has fun and makes silly videos whilst living off Doritos. You can shove that idea directly up your arse. Honestly.

I love my friends, I love my course, but jesus christ I need some epitome of fun. My idea of fun is a large house party, at which I am wearing the best clothes, have the best hair, and am drinking gin and tonic out of a glass made from the hooves of unicorns whilst listening to pop punk.

Here's the reality. Tommorow night we're going to our freinds birthday. The theme is musicals. Instead of doing something sexy like Moulin Rouge, we're doing Annie, because we're as skint as skint voles. So, theoretically, we're dressing in rags. I have said we could suggestively rip said rags around the bresticle area, but there's no such thing as slutty orphans.

I can't wait for Christmas Break, simply because it means I won't have to look at Land Law for a while. I'll find a solution to this horrid boredom, even if it means making orange squash with vodka in it and cartwheeling up to the bloody cathedral.

In other news, my housemate Natasha literally is the worst Countdown contestant in history.

The anagram was

'PETDRAGON'

Tasha's response to this was 'Well thats easy. Pet dragon'. I have never laughed so hard. Not since my friend Amy got chopsticks stuck up her nose in a chinese buffet.

Oh, hold on, aforementioned best friend has just come in with a proposal:

'Hello'
'Hello'
'We're going to get drunk'
'And how are we doing that?'
'We're going to get a bottle of one quid cider and down it while spinning round in the garden'
'Right..'


Its tuesday tommorow. 9am start. Hurrar. There's no use in complainin' when you got a job to do. I think thats how the lyric goes. And we've got cider gardening to do.

Keep as fresh as the salmon the counter in Morrisons.
xxxx