Inflatable Cats, Sunstroke and Weird Drunken Web Searches

So I’ve not blogged for a bit, been busy enjoying my freedom! AKA watching back to back episodes of Game of Thrones only to emerge, blinking into the light, when I’ve run out of ice-cream. I wish I were kidding. But Ben & Jerry’s has been half price.

So exams are over for another year (hopefully)! And for the first time in three years I finished before my birthday. I am now 21! Scary Mary. And to celebrate my entrance into true adulthood, I spent the day, sitting in the scorching sun, drinking from 11am, eating pizza and ending the night skinny dipping in the sea. As fun as this may sound, it turned out to be quite a stupid, and dangerous idea. I burnt like a lobster over the day. No one quite believes how excessively I burn, until they see if with their own eyes. Two hours in the sun before I could grab sun cream, and a week and a half later my shoulder (just one, goddamnit) is still red. I blame my dad. I may not be fully ginger, but he was and I have inherited his pasty, freckly skin. Anyway, a mixture of day drinking and sun led to a very dehydrated birthday girl wearing party pants and a massive badge. Then jumping into very cold water with such an overheated body was not a good plan. I ended up with sunstroke. Now, if anyone had ever had sunstroke, they know how awful it is. I spent my first morning of being a fully grown adult, with my head in the toilet for three hours, my body temperature so high I was violently shivering and shaking, unable to walk without feeling nauseas and so weak. I do not recommend.

Aside from that, I had a great 21st and it was certainly memorable! I’m going to see Les Miserables at the West End as a present from my parents. I am SO excited about that. I literally know every word to every song, the audience are going to hate me. I’ve also really wanted a pet. I love my animals, but being at university I’ve only got a hamster, Rafeeki. My mum is getting another kitten and I’ve been nagging and nagging about letting me get a cat. So my mum told me for my birthday she had got me something I’ve always really wanted. I was so excited. Is she finally going to say I can have a cat!?



Thinking she is HILARIOUS she got me a balloon cat saying, “now you have a cat that you can take for a walk and it’s free!” So witty.

As I’ve already mentioned, exams are over so naturally I’ve been celebrating. Typical student style: alcohol and food. I realised how much of a student I am the other day when I had to iron my dress with a hair dryer. It kinda worked. Kinda. Yes, I don’t own an iron. Yes, that is the first time I have “ironed” in a year. Probably the second time in total since I arrived at university three years ago. Probably the same dress too.

I’ve also realised that my mind gets very strange when under the influence of alcohol. Recently, after nights out, I have found myself researching very strange things on the web. Such as, the Illuminati. And the other night I was watching motivational videos about “what would you do if money were not an issue.” I don’t really know what gets into me when I’ve had a cheeky vodka.

But now, I am going to bed. I had to slave away last night behind the bar at our university summer ball. Didn’t get to bed until 7am. Goddamn work. How am I gonna deal next year when I’m a graduate?


Happy Jesus Zombie Day!

Well, I’m aware I’m a bit late on the Happy Easter thing. But I’ve been moving back to my university house and doing coursework (4am, drunk in the library) so I can be let off!

So over the Easter holidays, I’ve been back staying with my parents. I have little brothers and as everyone knows, kids come out with some of the best lines. A couple of days ago I got:

You’re very heavy aren’t you? Even Spiderman can’t lift you!

Well thank you, I’m aware I’ve gained a little chocolate weight -_-

Over Easter, I also received my souvenir photo from Miranda Hart! Still cannot believe I ended up on stage with her! Massive love ❤



I want her to be my BFF.

That boy in the picture with me who was my “date.” That is not wine in his wine glass. No sir, it is coke. Poor guy was only 16 aha. We had a list of questions about our most embarrassing moments. His was, “I got drunk and woke up in a bath. But please don’t say that on stage, my mum will kill me!” Bless.

I’m sure everyone’s also seen about Britain’s youngest parents! 12 years old!!! Can’t even be called a teenage mum! Children having children. How weird. I was thinking about this on one of my very boring shifts at work. When I was 12 the only thing I was looking after was sea monkeys. And I purposefully stopped feeding them because they got boring and just wouldn’t die.

And now I’m back at uni. Exams start next week, but I have managed to get me a job behind the bar and brought myself a celebratory hammock. Hurrah!

Oh, such a bad, bad day.

Today has been a disgustingly long and very bad day. And it started at 8am. I should’ve known I was doomed from the start. I don’t do early morning starts. But it started so well! I didn’t even press snooze on my alarm… I was even 5 minutes early to my tutorial! And then things went downhill…

My tutor is not an interesting man. And my attention span is not great when it comes to boring people. I end up noticing things. Picking up on annoying habits instead of actually listening. And what I noticed was that my tutor says the same word over and over again. “Obviously.” Even when it is obviously (teehee) not relevant or even grammatically correct. And there is nothing I hate more than bad grammar! So I played a little game. I counted how many times he said it.

62 times in half an hour. 62 TIMES!!!!

Every time he used it incorrectly (62 effing times), I felt a little blow to my soul. So already, by 9.30, my mood was going downhill.

So, I went home, revised for hours (AKA watched 10 episodes of How I Met Your Mother) and decided to tidy my room. I thought I’d put a wash on, running low on clothes and all that. Bad idea. Now I have even less clothes. THE WASHING MACHINE DOOR BROKE AND MY CLOTHES ARE STILL STUCK IN THE MACHINE D: We tried putting it on spin, tried kicking it, even tried prising it open with a knife. No such luck. So now I have slowly moulding clothes stuck where I can see them but cannot wear them! The landlord better hurry up and get round here.

Then to make matters worse I went to the library. Already a pretty risky move. I needed to print some stuff off and I was 4 pence short. So I tried topping up my university card using my debit card. Surprise, surprise the website was down so I couldn’t. So then I thought I would change up my £5 note into 50ps. That machine was also not working. I went to the front desk. They were “cashless” and so could also not change my money. So I had to leave, go to the shop, buy a muffin, get some change, go back to the library and finally top my card up. I then attempted to print my work. THE PRINTER DIDN’T BLOODY WORK! It took my money but didn’t print my stuff off. So I had to go to another printer, spend more money, finally printed my work to find out… wait… I don’t actually need this. Half a fricking hour. 

After all this I decided to limp home in the rain (limp because of an injury, not because I fancied it). Then… hang on… my foot started to feel really wet. I looked down. Oh my dear baby Jesus. The sole of my favourite boot had come apart from the shoe. My big toe was hanging out the front. How did this happen?! Why did this happen?! Why does God hate me?!

And then, to top it all off, I realised that I also could no longer go to a party I was very much looking forward to going to. I was going to dress up as a hobbit. Hairy feet and all 😦

Seal Dancing and Tumble Drying

I am pleased to say that I am fully embracing student life again. Yesterday, I made a clothes line using the cord on my blinds and my pin board. Today, I blow-dried my clothes with my hair-dryer. We have a shit tumble dryer that keeps beeping at me and telling me to “empty the water.” I HAVE!!! Anyway, the one guy in our house that might be able to fix it was out so I had the choice. Go kickboxing in wet clothes or whack out the hair dryer for half an hour. In all fairness, after 15 minutes of the warm up I would be soaking wet and drenched with sweat anyway but I didn’t want people to think that I was so unfit that the walk was making me sweaty so I opted for the latter.

It’s crazy. I still feel far too immature to be renting a house. A house! Just the other day, I was crying with laughter because my housemate was doing a “seal dance.” This basically involved lying on the floor/ on top of my other housemate and wiggling, whilst making seal noises. She’s going to be twenty in two days. When I was a kid, twenty seemed adult. It seemed mature and grown up and old. I feel none of these. I feel the same as I did 5 years ago when I was doing my GCSE’s, just slightly more confident and slightly taller and slightly blinder. But I still don’t feel mature. I don’t feel much different.

But, I guess, when I really think about it, a lot has changed. I am more confident, even this last year I can feel it growing. I’ve lost that crippling shyness I had as a kid, the same one that made me hate secondary school in the beginning. The same one that led to me not having many friends when I first arrived. Relationships have also changed, moved on, gotten stronger. You realise who your true friends are when you leave your hometown. You realise who you actually care for and who you actually miss. Sometimes it is really hard. Sometimes missing them makes you almost wish you never left. But you have to, or how else will you get anywhere in life? And, against all odds I can actually cope living on my own- surprisingly well. Even better so this year, now I can actually cook slightly more meals than frozen pizza and spaghetti bolognese. And I can improvise… I might have a shit tumble dryer, but my hair dryer is Nicky Clarke 😉

Inflatable Schlongs, Chunder Charts and Willy Toss. The End of Freshers :(

And so ends my first year of university.

For 9 months I’ve been living without my parents, cleaning up my own mess (I think I hoovered my room twice), drinking far too much alcohol (according to the “Chunder Chart” I was only alcohol-related sick 6 times!) and attending far too few lectures (I lived 20 minutes away, I can’t be expected to get to 9 o’clock lectures!).

I’ve learnt to cook. Sort of. After one term of living off of ready meals, it got too expensive to carry on and I was forced to cook my own dinner. And now I can cook a grand total of 3 meals- spaghetti bolognese, curry and fajitas!

Me and my house mates have done some strange things. A teacher at school told me that I would be too weird to make friends when I went to uni but luckily they were as normal as me. We decided we missed having animals around so we created our own “Flat 305 Petting Zoo.” We spent many hours drawing and sticking animals- including a goat, a snail, a rubber duck dressed as a policeman, a cat, a goldfish and a sea-monkey- to our kitchen wall. We created a quotes board for all the funny (and usually drunken) things we said. My favourite having to be:

“Why would you want an inflatable pecker? A peckers small. Surely you’d want an inflatable schlong!?”

At Christmas we made our own Santa’s grotto; one night we got the hairbrushes out and belted out ballads, serenading smokers in the courtyard; we played games of “willy toss” which involved trying to throw plastic hoops onto a plastic willy. Very difficult. And when one of my house mates went home for the weekend, we wrapped everything in her room in newspaper- including her floor, her toilet and every individual pencil. If any of you have a house mate- please try this. Yes, I like to think uni helped me grow up.

Reminiscing with my flatmates, it’s really weird that we have been living together for 9 months. I can still remember my first day, waking up in the morning terrified because I heard movement in the kitchen which meant I had to man up and go and introduce myself. Luckily she was really nice and chatty and took me on a tour and then for my first night out as a student! I was a little more wary about meeting my other house mate as the first time she spoke to me on Facebook was when I was unfortunately and horrifically fraped by my ‘friend’. The conversation went something like this:

Sofie: hey! we have a complete flat now 

“Me”: Hey, yayy r they girls?

Sofie: yes, all girls lol

“Me”: do u lyk girls??

Sofie: er yeah as friends :L

“Me”: ohh yeah me 2… but not anymore?

Sofie: no lol

“Me”: haha. wanna have sex? just real quick?

Sofie: er no?

Great first impression o.O

Living with the same people, people that have been forced together basically by the choice to go to uni, isn’t always easy. My neighbour who practically lives around our flat doesn’t speak to any of his flatmates. I was lucky in that all of my flatmates were friendly and funny and I got on with them all. But that doesn’t mean that it was all peachy. We had our fair share of drama in flat 305! Spending all of our time under each others feet wasn’t always easy and there was the occasional tension and arguing, usually over washing up, boys or when is the exceptional time to be noisy in the morning. Spending so much time together we saw all the good, the bad and the ugly things about each other. And unfortunately, for one of my house mates, she heard all that too, when one of the girls had such crazy, loud sex next door she was kept up all night with her wall shaking and books falling off of her bookshelf!

It’s going to be really weird not living with some of the people next year, or not living so close you can walk down the corridor to see them. I will definitely miss Flat 305 and couldn’t have asked for a better first year.


11 Different Types of Drunk

I had a sober night out on Friday :O An unusual experience for me I know, but I found from watching people, that there are a number of different types of “drunk…”

The Drunken Mess:

This drunk will be vomiting up their dinner in the toilet (if they’re lucky), all over the dance floor or down someone’s back. You might also find this one passed out in the corner, or maybe not even find them until the next day as they’ve passed out in a gutter somewhere. It’s these drunken messes that are the perfect targets for “Sharpie” fun.

The “I Think I’m Sexy” Drunk:

These girls will be found hanging off a pole, dancing on the bar or grinding with a group of lads. It doesn’t matter if make-up is running down their face, it doesn’t matter if their top is too tight and everything is just hanging out, it doesn’t matter if they have a moustache and sweat-patches the size of Africa- they will still think they are hot.

The Laughing Hysterically Drunk:

All you will have to do is say hello to this drunk to start them off. And once they start, they will not stop. Everything is funny to this drunk.

The Crying Hysterically Drunk:

99% of the time, this is a girl. Usually over a boy, common quotes when they are crying tend to be:

“Why doesn’t he like me?!”

“Why is he dancing with her?!”

“I hate him!”

“I hate my life!”

The Angry Drunk

The drunk that starts a fight with everyone and everything. They get budged a little bit on the dancefloor:

“Why the fuck are you starting on me!? You want some of this, huh!? Come on then, dick!”

These drunks usually end up kicked out from somewhere or arrested or being beaten up themselves for being a tosser.

The “I’m Not Drunk!” Drunk:

Says it all really.

The Disappearing Drunk:

You arrive at the bar or club, next thing you know, they’ve run off with other people they know, with a guy or girl they just met, or just generally wandered off on their own. You probably won’t see this drunk again until the morning.

The Forgetful Drunk:

“Yeah, you’ve told me that ten times already”

“Oh, really? Well, did I mention this one time…”


The Naked Guy:

There is always some guy who ends up naked in public somewhere. Not sure why, the male mind is a mystery to me.

The Clingy Girl Drunk:

She will be stuck to one guy and will not let them go. She’ll get jealous if he dances with someone else and will go off with a strop before finding a way to cling back onto him. She’ll probably declare her love for him as well.

The Slutty Drunk:

This is one for both the guys and girls. These drunks will have their tongue shoved down various people’s throats all night and every night.

Don’t ever remind me of my school-days

I cringe at my younger self. Like, honestly cringe in shame and embarrassment when I remember how I used to act.

In year 7 I hysterically cried in class because I lost my locker key and couldn’t get my new coat out.

In year 8, a boy I fancied said, “I’ll see you later.” To which I shouted, “NO YOU WON’T.” Urm… :/

In year 9, I shouted out in my RE class, “WHAT’S A VIBRATOR” after overhearing someone behind me’s conversation.

In sixth form, to my teacher who I was a little bit in love with, as he was taking his blazer off saying, “oh, I’m hot,” I decided to yell out, “YOU BET YOU ARE.” The girls in the back of the classroom heard. And I was as close to the front as you could possibly get.

Perhaps most embarrassingly, I fell up the stairs on my way into class, hit my knee so hard I passed out and hit my head on a door, came round to a girl shouting, “I FORT SHE WOZ JOKIN” then threw up in a bin.

How is this even possible!?

To make things worse, I didn’t even break my kneecap like I thought I had, I merely ended up with a bruised knee, red face and limp for a few days. With people coming over to me asking “oooh are you OK, I heard you passed out!” Great.

Then my teacher drew a lovely picture of it on the whiteboard for everyone to see, that looked something like this…