The Hangover Part IV…

I have to say, I think last night was was the worst nights out I’ve had so far at uni.

Having not been out out for three weeks (flu, home, sleep), I’ve literally been chomping at the bit for a good evening of partying; but far be it for me to have a decent clubbing experience…

Oh no, I can’t be a normal person and get completely trollied, have a bit of a boogie with a hot guy, snog a stranger and stagger home with my flatmates.

Instead last night turned out to be some sad low-budget parody of The Hangover.

And you want to know the worst part of it all?

I WAS DOUG.

I’ll start form the beginning…

I did a bit of pre-drinking with the girls and then we headed out to our Wednesday night haunt where, as per usual, we had to wait in a “queue” for half an hour before we even got to the door.

I am too short for this shit.

Do you know how painful it is being mosh pitted against metal railings by drunk rugby and football guys when you’re 5’1?

I’ll tell you…

…VERY.

When we finally made it to the entrance, we were given a tag and told to come back half an hour later when our colour was called…

..really?

NO.

So instead we MI5’d it into the club and managed to procure a different colour tag that would get us in earlier.

At half eleven, after an hour of sitting at a bench covered with spilled beer, we were finally allowed into the R&B room where I danced with one of my friends for a bit…

…until she stared getting off with a random guy and my third wheeling got to a stage of painful awkwardness.

So then I Marco’s Polo’d it and found my two other friends outside where I stayed and chatted, until I was dragged back in for some more dancing.

Queue EVEN MORE AWKWARD THIRD WHEELING while the same friend got off with one of the guys in her seminar group dressed as a Mexican (who later turned out to be a creepy dick).

At this stage I somehow managed to make friends with a guy called Will who told me I was stunning but he had a girlfriend (bullshit but…LIFE, WHY?) and a girl called Sophie,  and danced with them while my flatmate played tonsil hockey.

We then dispersed and I buggered off to try and find everyone, sans phone, thanks T-Mobile for your wonderful signal coverage…best UK network my arse.

I can’t even remember how long this lasted until I finally got pissed off and decided to leave.

When I got back I had a load of texts and missed calls from my other two friends who it turns out were wandering around on their own looking for eachother as well.

NONE of them pulled…

…Guys, THE END IS NIGH.

So now I sit, hanging without a cause.

Admittedly when I woke up on my mattress it wasn’t on a roof…and my only souvenirs of the night were my (accidentally) stolen entry tags rather than a small child or a tiger…

And to think I’m meant to be showing my Essex friend how to party wop-a-uni-style (geddit, Gangnam Style? Haha..ha ha..ha…ha?) this weekend.

So far all I’ve got is get drunk and wander around on your own like a twat.

Eggy bread and aspirin is happening…right now.

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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…