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*

#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.

I’m at university…

I was absolutely bloody convinced I was not going to get into university this year. I’d filled my mum in with plans A, B, C, D, E and F and I’d prepared a note on my iPad with all the possible clearing vacancies and numbers.

Turns out I did get in.

Now I’m at university, like actually full on moved in at uni.

First impressions?

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

I feel like I’ve been whipped up in a tornado and dropped into an Oz where people say “man” unironically like 70s hippies, have feminist debates over the dinner table, drink excessively (and I mean excessively) and have sex…like a lot…and publicly.

I’m guessing that my friendship group really was quite tame at secondary school as I never really felt particularly conservative until now. Especially as the people I’m living with are proper party animals.

My nineteenth birthday night consisted of mixer-less pre-drinks, dancing at clubs with themes of blackout, foam, cheesy music and UV, respectively, more alcohol, and carrying my flat mate home.

…Oh and feeling like shit the next morning.