How To: Procrastinate

It turns out that the year above us said that they’d like more assessment in their yearly review…

…bastards.

Guess who already has a essay that counts towards their yearly grade?

Guess who has to submit that essay by 10am tomorrow morning?

Guess who’s writing this post to avoid finishing said essay?

I’ll give you a clue, the answer’s me.

If you asked me what is the one single thing I am best at in the world, my answer would be procrastination.

I honestly do have some kind of deep rooted fear of deadlines. I get so worked up and anxious that I feel sick and literally can’t do any work. I hate tests more than anything. Once the deadline has passed, I’m quite happy to tap away and finish the work…

In fact I’ve just started reading the Odyssey two weeks after it was set…it’s quite good actually…

…I told you I was nuts.

My fear of deadlines is so bad that I literally revised the night before every one of my GCSEs, AS levels and A levels…my English Lit A level I revised for on the day of the exam!

I think I may have found a solution to my predicament…LIE.

I need people to legitimately convince me that my deadlines are a week earlier than they actually are, so that after I’ve had a mild heart attack trying to finish the work 2 minutes before the deadline, I can heave a sigh of relief and finesse it over the next seven days…

I know, I know, I’m far to clever, I’d see straight through the lies.

*Cough*

I also have a strong aversion to re-reading anything that I write. You’d literally have to handcuff me to a chair and put me in a headlock to force me to re-read this post before I publish it…or any of my essays…

Please don’t read too closely…there will be spelling mistakes.

As the sensai of procrastination, I thought I’d give you a few examples of how to procrastinate…

These are just what I’ve done today:

  • Buy strawberry laces, plait them then eat them.
  • Give yourself a strawberry laces mustache.
  • Practice speaking in an Australian and American accent.
  • Make tea.
  • Play The Sims Freeplay.
  • Watch New Girl or [insert any other humorous 20 minute American sitcom here].
  • Make oatmeal cookies.
  • Blog.
  • Snapchat your best friend.
  • Make tacos.
  • Eat tacos.
  • Spin around on chair.
  • Read books other than your set texts.

Well now you know what my day consisted of…what have you been up to?

Procrastination suggestions below please.

Oh and here’s my favourite YouTube video on procrastination, just to, you know fuck up your life even more…

Vintage danisnotonfire.

He he.

I’m a klutz…

Oh god, I looked up the word klutz to make sure I spelt it right  before writing this post and now its morphed into gibberish.  Go on, repeat it like 10 or 20 times and see what happens….

Anyway on to today’s topic, which is essentially a rant about how completely ditzy and stupid I am.

Now it’s not like I just woke up today and suddenly realised it; I’ve had 19 years of being completely clumsy and uncoordinated…what prompted me to write this post is something that happened the other day…

…I was walking back from my English lecture, quite happily chatting away to my flatmate, when all of a sudden…

*KAZAM*

…guys…

I SLIPPED ON A FUCKING BANANA PEEL!

…STRAIGHT ONTO MY ARSE.

…IN PUBLIC.

This is the kind of that would only ever happen to me…it’s not even supposed to happen in real life! It’s a comedic device used in old black and white films!

If there’s a door I will walk into it, if there’s wet paint I’ll touch it, if there’s a staircase I’ll fall up it (yes I broke my wrist falling up the bloody stairs).

Never, I repeat NEVER ask me to hold anything of any kind of value.

When I was younger my mum had to put huge orange stickers on the french doors because I’d literally run into them every day and smash my head.

Someone bubble wrap me, quick, before I do any more damage.

P.S. It’s become a running joke in my flat that if anything awful is going to happen, it will happen to me. I am the unluckiest person on the planet. In fact I think they should add “doing a Laura” to the dictionary…well if twerk can make it in there…

P.P.S. Bollocks, literally just as I finished typing the first post script I just tipped a bottle of water over my folder…le sigh…

Banger? I don’t even know her…

Now I don’t claim to be any kind of Jamie Oliver or Heston Blumenthal but I’m a pretty okay cook.

Today would beg to differ…

…I kinda almost set the entire flat a little bit on fire…

Fickle buggers them sausages.

There I was, quite happily grilling my bangers in the oven, turning frequently to ensure equal distribution of heat then…

*BAM*

…a bit of the oil jumped up onto the heating element  and the oven started sparking, followed by a hella tonne of smoke.

It only lasted a maximum of two seconds while I sprinted Usain Bolt style to the other side of the kitchen, wildly flapping a tea towel in one hand and snatching up tongs in the other.

I’m only slightly worried that the fire alarm didn’t go off…

Bloody good sausage sandwich though I tell you, not burnt in the slightest.

#skills

P.S. Can I have permission to be just a teensy bit proud of that pun? Just a little teeny weeny bit?

I’m an adult…

So if you read my Quarter Life Crisis post, where I had a mini mental breakdown, you’ll know that I was really hating the course that I was on an my uni wasn’t letting me transfer…

Well I’ve spent the majority of my waking hours over the past two weeks running around campus like a crazed psychopath trying to persuade *cough* beg *cough* the department to allow just one more person onto the history course.

I was getting nowhere and I eventually reached the point where I wanted to simultaneously cry, punch someone, stuff my face with chocolate and not get out of bed….so I did the thing that every intelligent, adult, independent woman would do…

…I called my mummy…

Uuughh I know, I know.

But guess who’s now going to be doing English and History with Spanish?!

*Party poppers* *Fireworks*

*Tumbleweed*

No?

Right…I’ll just be in the corner celebrating….alone…

Actually I don’t know why I’m even writing this post…after all the insane running about I’ve done, I’ve had to sit and wait for the last three days for the head of the department to come back and sign my form… only then can I ‘officially’ transfer…I’ve probably just jinxed it…

Oh jesus.

P.S. I’m really hoping I’m going to love history after all of this, keep your fingers crossed for me people! If I don’t I may as well just give up now.

P.P.S. I feel like I haven’t done one of these for ages…I’ve had anti-postsciptitis…it’s the stress…

P.P.P.S. Hello, hi, hola, how are you? Thank you to all you lovely new people who have followed/liked/commented on my blog, If you read this please leave me a comment or ask a question/request something, I love interacting with you guys!

GGG…

Oh hi October 2nd!

I’ve been off the internet for a few days, if you haven’t noticed, which I’m sure you have….

No?

*Whatever sign with fingers whilst simultaneously rotating on spinny chair*

Anyway…while I’ve been quite happily (or unhappily as the case may be…post coming soon) going about my daily life unawares, turns out I’ve been being watched….by stalkers…

Dun dun duuuuuuunnnn

…okay so maybe they’re not technically stalkers…It’s actually just my mum and nan…

It seems everyone else I know has parents and grandparents who don’t give a flying fuck about anything to do with technology, their Facebook is their own domain to upload as many drunken photos and sweary statuses as they like.

In my family however, it’s a little different…

My Nan’s nickname is Triple G, which if you don’t know is Granny Puckett in Hoodwinked…go watch it…that’s an order…

When we got her a laptop last year, we were convinced we were going to have to set her up on one of those silver surfer courses for absolute novices. What actually happened is we got her plugged in and connected to the internet, showed her how to open applications like internet and word…the next thing we know she’s friending us on Facebook, printing out photos, e-mailing our family in Australia and typing up all her letters.

Her explanation?

She had to use a typewriter when she was a secretary in the 1950s

*Mind blown*

A couple of weeks ago she told me she’d been reading my blog on blogger…totally not the reason I moved to WordPress…like at all…

A few days ago, she commented on a drunken foam party photo that one of my flatmates had uploaded and tagged me in.

Do you know how awkward it is to have to explain to someone you don’t know that well that yes, you do know that old lady who just posted on her wall “I thought you weren’t having any fun at Uni”, and yes, you may just be related to her…

My mum is also the real life version of the stalker mum in the movie New Year’s Eve…if your post even so much as threatens to enter her news feed, she’s read it…

I suppose sometimes aspects of it do come in handy, like being able to Skype them when my homesickness reaches unbearable levels (which it has at times…side effect of being really really close to your family)

Other times not so much…

…like when my nan made an international phone call I had to to pay for when I was living in Spain because she couldn’t x off the Norton anti-virus window…

*Smh*

Out on the Push…

Now you may have heard the turn of phrase “out on the pull” but sometimes when your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, you kind of don’t want it to…

Bridget Jones

Being at university has been my first “proper” taste of the clubbing lifestyle, and can I just say, I’ve had my arse grabbed more in these last two weeks than I have in my entire life…but I digress…

As you may have picked up on my previous posts I’m a little more traditional *cough* boring *cough* when it comes to meeting guys, and I’d much rather meet them in a daytime setting and be able to have a proper conversation with them…mainly so I can find out sooner rather than later if they’re a complete weirdo, axe murderer or rapist.

Take for example the guy I met last night. Tall, good looking, third year, bad/awkward dancer…always a bad sign.

I danced with him because my flatmate was getting off with his friend. He asked me if I wanted to make out with him. I said no. He kept asking me whether I was sure I didn’t want to go and sit down. I said no. He asked me again. I finally relented.

We sat down and proceeded to have the most awkward shouty conversation (clubs aren’t meant for talking, I couldn’t hear a bloody word he was saying…*smile and wave boys smile and wave*). He told me he was a geography student and then proceeded to ask me a tonne of questions about the exact location of my halls.

*RUN AWAY* *RUN AWAY*

Now it probably was just the fact that he was into mapping, because we’d both made it extremely clear that nothing was going to happen but I still felt like something was off…

…who the hell wants to sit down and have a stilted conversation with a stranger at a club?

Not me…I’ll be the one breaking it down on the dance floor…

*Shakes it like Beyonce*

*Slut drops*

*Re-dislocates knee*

One Lovely Blog Award…

onelovelyblogaward-1[1]

I’ve only been on WordPress for about three days but…turns out I’ve won an award!

…Kinda.

First of all I’d like to thank my parents for…you know….having me, my Nan’s cat Patches for being my earliest life companion, my primary school teachers for teaching me how to write…

…I jest…

But I would seriously like to thank the lovely Zooey from StudentZooey who apparently actually reads what I post and has an amazing blog so go on over and check her out. I’ll wait….

….done? No?

How about now…?

No? Now…?

Finally! Jesus, I haven’t got all day.

Oh god I really need to stop being so sarcastic, I’m really quite lovely in real life I promise.

According to this tag I now have to post seven facts about me; if you don’t fancy reading, feel free to use the right hand section of your track pad. Here we go *deep breath*…

  1. I am currently at university studying English and Classics with Spanish, though I’m not 100% sure I’m on the right course. Eventually I want to go on and work in the media.
  2. I’m trypanophobic, which basically means I have a fear of needles. Not copying you Zooey I swear… *crickets*. Before writing this post I honestly thought the word for fear of needles was hippophobia….and that’s exactly what I told them at the blood drive stall at my freshers fair the other day…idiot.
  3. I was a competitive street dancer for three years; my team won three local, two regional and three national titles and on the last national title got a bid to the USASF worlds.
  4. I am 5’1″. Yes you read that right. The best things come in small packages.
  5. I love to sing. I can’t, but I love doing it.
  6. I have a younger brother called James who’s a pre-professional footballer.
  7. I’m extremely impulsive but at the same time find it really hard to make decisions, even on the smallest of things.

Well wasn’t that not very interesting.

This is the hardest part for me because as I said I haven’t been on WordPress for very long at all and so I haven’t had a chance to properly scope blogs; but here’s seven that I’ve stumbled across and really enjoyed reading:

Diary of a Maths Student

Ravishing Rambles

Chris Bawler

Joanna Loves

Live Laugh Love Travel

Spices and Spatulas

And I Love Cabaret

Next up: the rules

  1. Add the “One Lovely Blog Award” image to your post
  2. Share seven things about you
  3. Pass the award on to seven nominees
  4. Thank the person who nominated you
  5. Inform the nominees by posting on their blogs

Thank you and goodnight…err morning…

On Wednesdays we wear pink….

Believe it or not, I’ve done a lot more this week than just poison myself with toxic substances…

A large majority of my time has been taken up by joining societies, which basically involves being pounced on by third years until you cave and pay thirty quid to join their Where’s Wally hide and seek club (exists)….

Choosing which society to be a part of, however, is actually a lot more complicated that you might first imagine…

*Pulls down rolling blackboard, points wooden stick*

Now you may think I’m leaning too far towards the stereotype, but it is true that in choosing which societies to be a part of, you’re essentially choosing the type of people you want to be friends with for the next three years…

Do you want to be in with the jocks who have crazy society nights where they do horrific things like drinking sick (seriously this happened), do you want to be a “media type”, an academic, a fashionista, a musician….?

So far I’ve joined the newspaper, radio and TV stations, the fitness club, the meditation society and the film society. I almost joined the cheerleading club…its so fun and the outfits were so cute but as much as I love it, my debit card refuses to co-operate…

In actual fact, one of the main campus banks went totally bankrupt this past weekend from all the withdrawals…I swear it wasn’t all me!

Feel free to judge my selection…

P.S. I totally had the Spice Girls Who Do You Think You Are? on a loop in my head while writing this post…please blast and awkward-dance accordingly…

P.P.S. If I haven’t already mentioned…societies are bloody expensive! I don’t think I can bear to even look at my overdraft right now…

Oh to be a student…

Quarter life crisis…..

Why do these things always have to happen to me…

Of the 4000 odd new undergraduate students this year, why do I seem to be the only one who doesn’t know what the hell they want to do with their life.

Okay so I’ll back track a little…

I originally applied to university to study English and history…

On a whim I decided to change to English and classics,

Whilst sitting in my English lecture, I was overcome by an overwhelming sense of “I wish I was studying history”.

Like out of the blue…

…and I suddenly realised that this may have been the reason something hasn’t quite felt right since I got here…

Turns out history is full…

I’m going to go cry in a corner somewhere…

#freshersweekfail

I am a disgusting cliche of a human being.

I’m sorry, I tried guys, I really did.

Remember in my ‘starting uni post’ when I said that everyone around me was on a mission to get as drunk an uninhibited as possible, and it was kind of freaking me out? I’d been teetotal and didn’t want to get crazy drunk but it just felt so awkward being completely sober…

I started on the alcohol…

…le sigh…

At 2:03 on Saturday morning I was met by two lovely paramedics who poked and prodded me with various instruments as I threw up the contents of my stomach (which at this point there was none) into my ASDA smart price mixing bowl.

I woke up at 5 am lying on my dorm room floor…apparently my one male flat mate had to actually carry me there.

*Now I’m lying on the cold hard ground *goat* *goat* trouble! trouble trouble*

No?

Fine…

The next day I found out that I’d actually blacked out. Like there is a half an hour period of my life I actually can’t remember…the rest I remember a bit too acutely….don’t ask…

One thing I do remember is the paramedics talking about the unpredictability of alcohol…I didn’t drink any more than I did on my birthday night, yet I wound up with a 0.34% alcohol level and being violently sick.

The recovery the last few days has almost been worse…
As hilarious as this is looking back (I totally won the gold medal amongst my flat mates for the first – and biggest – drunk fail) if any of you reading this are going off to freshers and are not acclimatised to drinking, please take care.
Your esophagus will thank you, I promise…
*drinks orange juice*
P.S. Who in God’s name invented Jaegermeister? One evil son of a bitch…

P.P.S. I also wound up with a bruised ribcage…apparently an occupational hazard of throwing up over the kitchen sink for 3 hours (not exaggerating)

P.P.P.S. (Once again is this even a thing?) My flatmates are saints. End of.