Props and frocks…

Anyone that knows me knows that I’m the worst person ever to take to a formal social event.

Stuffy balls and formal pow wows seem to bring out my naughty side.

The euphemisms are real with this one.

Oi stop snickering behind your screens. This is a serious blog with serious…oh who am I kidding?

Our university summer ball, however, was an outdoor garden event with live music, dance tents and zorbs. Perfect for this country bumpkin.

What could go wrong?

Rain.

Much rain.

Exeter city centre became a witch hunt for reasonably priced and outfit coordinating wellie boots, and I’m afraid to say I was no Matthew Hopkins.

You know the famous Essex witch hunter?

No?

Ahhhh I’m such a history geek.

I returned home sans-Wellington boots and decided to wear my lovely new faith heels I bought for the occasion.

Well they did match my dress that I’d painstakingly searched for over the course of the summer term (no it had absolutely nothing to do with exam procrastination, how very dare you, it’s completely normal to buy and return six dresses and two pairs of shoes before a big event).

I almost got away with it.

Turns out being 5’1″ you can fit your entire body into a zorb, and so when someone runs into you and pushes you over, though you may be stuck legs akimbo for ten minutes waiting for professional help, you stay fairly mud free.

Bloody fantastic.

Add that to my CV…”doesn’t get wet in zorbs”.

Hey it’s 2014, I need all the help I can get.

In the end it was the mud pit that was once the silent disco tent and the slide (yes slide) into the dance tent that had me caked like Percy the pig.

I didn’t much care. Turns out overpriced jaëger and energy drinks both protect you from the bitter cold and reduce the general number of fucks given about anything.

That was until it was time to go home.

The Ball organisers decided it would be a wonderful idea to try to transport a thousand students back to campus on two fifty-seated coaches.

Cue a sea of very annoyed and sobering students and a general air of rioting.

I decided it was better to sit at the back and watch the drama unfold, of which there was plenty.

Turns out my jaëgerbomb coat came in very handy.

Luckily, by the early hours of the morning, we got dropped home right outside our accommodation as quite happy, if not very broke and muddy, campers.

Every cloud has a silver bus.

P.S. It rained so hard at one point that we got stuck inside the music tent with some very drunk rah’s smoking cigars. Can you get any posher? I of course added even more class to the proceedings by very attractively wolfing down a hotdog.

P.P.S. Even though I lost my shoes (well ok I managed to scrub them up but they did almost go to shoe heaven), I did not meet Prince Charming at the ball. I’ll keep you updated on that one, it’s a work in progress.

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What just happened?

If I could only use one word to sum up the past few weeks it would have to be bizarre.

To be honest, I’m surprised that I can even remember my own name…

Lets cut the crap.

*Life update klaxon*

One of my best friends from school came down from Essex for an insane night which started with a bottle of Belvedere…progressed to an out of character club snog (me), going back to another random fresher girl’s flat (it wasn’t as creepy as it sounds, she fell over in the road, we helped her up, she invited us over) and jacking a packet of smart price custard creams and a jam sandwich from the Christians (her…don’t ask)…and ended with a trip to a Catholic church (really, don’t ask).

My flatmate turned 20 so we had an amazing Mexican themed night complete with sombreros and fajitas and a whole bottle of tequila…or at least that’s what I can remember of it…turns out we went to a club afterwards…all I remember is waking up in my bed next to one of my flatmates having thrown up said bottle of alcohol and fajitas.

Note to self, medication and alcohol DO NOT mix…

I spent the majority of reading week barricaded in my room genuinely thinking I was going to die…

*Shudders*

I now have a second gold star on my flat’s chunder chart (a star being an exceptional chunder).

On that note, ever since I have been on a self imposed alcohol ban…it’s like being in the AA except I’m neither an alcoholic nor anonymous…

7 days sober…surely I deserve a prize by now?

Like maybe a bottle of champagne?

Actually scratch that…even the thought of anything stronger than orange juice sends chills down my spine…

I got the marks back for both of my first assignments (English and History). As it turns out procrastination is the key to the entirety of life, anyone that says otherwise may let themselves out…

Seriously, now.

Go.

Halloween rolled around and thanks to the general YOLO-ness and IDGAF-ness of my flat, we had no tickets to any events, and so we found ourselves queuing up for two and a half hours outside our student union club in the rain. I dressed as a flesh eating zombie and spent the whole night trying to ignore the fact that I was stone cold sober. The only guy we danced with was one who came up to us and creepily stood there “seductively” flapping the fake hand stuck to his forehead for ten minutes while we tried to escape. UV paint was blasted from canons…by the end of the evening my reflection gave me nightmares.

I somehow managed to procure my first ever job interview and then had to call to postpone it because of my flu *cough* alcohol poisoning *cough*. How I even managed to pass the online assessment is beyond me…no I can’t identify the “most likely” and “least likely” course of action if all your answers are bloody the same! It was more of a case of click one with your eyes closed and hope for the best…

I, the queen of all social awkwardness, went to a history social at a small local cocktail bar and…well…socialised. I finally managed to meet some people on my history course, all of whom were lovely and none of whom I remember their names. I have also developed a massive crush on almost every guy on my history course…and my friends said I didn’t have a “type”…

I’ve somehow found myself on the competition team for the wrong dance society, and now am going to be off to Southampton this weekend to compete. I came to practice one day to find I’d been paired up with a random guy by the captains and so I have to wake up at 4am and spend 6 hours on a coach after a late night out…

..why?

…Just why?

Bonfire night celebrations have snuck up on me and I’ve spent the last few days feeling horribly homesick…I’m almost at the point where I’m watching firework displays and bonfires on YouTube…

…ok so it’s way past that point.

I’ve even downloaded my Christmas playlist onto my iPod to console myself…

…A good old sing along to Michael Bublé’s White Christmas never fails to put me in a good mood, if you know what I mean.

No?

*Ba dooby do do do do be do, ba dooby do do do dooby do*

Don’t even try to tell my my Santa Baby dance isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen…

…I even used a tin of soup for a microphone.

Two days ago I stayed up ALL NIGHT chatting to two of my third year flat mates and then got up to go to a group meeting and dance practice the next day…

…I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since secondary school.

I didn’t choose the thug life.

The thug life chose me.

Admittedly I did sleep for 12 hours the next day…

Shhhhh

Stalk Me (No, Actually)…A Day in the Life…

Well considering today is the two month anniversary of Overpacked and Underpaid, I thought that you and I would…you know…get to know eachother a little more…intimately.

Here, I found your mind, I think you dropped it in the gutter…

Boom boom!

I’ll let myself out…

Anyway all of you lovelies that actually read my posts, (and I know some of you do…you can run but you can’t hide, I have wobbly bar charts and numbers…I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE…actually I really don’t…but…err…I KNOW WHERE YOU BLOG…occasionally…when you follow me via WordPress), will know that I am studying History and English with Spanish at university, and so I thought I’d let you in on a typical day in my life…

Ooh aren’t you lucky!

https://i2.wp.com/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7d/UoEx_Forum.JPG

Monday 21st October 2013

Wake up at 7:30 to the unsurpassable sounds of radio Devon; listen to news of national and international importance such as “man in Devon has been going around shooting signs, to prove this, other man in Devon has been going around taking photos of said shot signs”, “outrage as lollipop man quits after being threatened with suspension for high-fiving kids rather than watching the road” and “small village interviews for a new local witch, no experience necessary” #srsbusiness.

Roll out of bed, shower and simultaneously flood and steam up bathroom, eat breakfast (cereal in a cup, stirred not shaken) and make my way up the hill for my first 9am history seminar on “the supernatural in early modern England”. Discus white witches for two hours, stare at hot history boys.

Walk back (making conscious effort not to pencil roll down hill) and whip up lunch out of remaining ingredients in fridge (eggs and…well…eggs), frantically do Spanish homework.

Head back up the bloody hill for double Spanish, spend two hours trying to stop myself doing something inappropriate/naughty out of sheer boredom (see: I’m Bored or How To: Procrastinate) as the class is a little too easy for me and I’ve done everything before.

Hot foot it over to my English lecture and search for tall friends so as not to look like a complete loner…try not to fall asleep or do any of the aforementioned inappropriate things, take lots of notes with one hand whilst simultaneously covertly stalking Facebook and Tumblr with the other.

Head back to flat, chat to flatmates and cook some dinner out of remainder of cupboard ingredients (tacos and…well…tacos).

Change into dance wear and head down to my beginners jazz class…roll around floor for an hour trying to ignore the indigestion from the food I’ve only just eaten and not poke one of my fellow dancers in the eye with my flailing hands and feet.

Head back to flat, spend evening in the kitchen with flatmates chatting and generally avoiding doing any work.

Do blogmin.

[Insert non-existent sex life here].

Sleep.

Well wasn’t that just…thrilling?

So there you have it, a day in the life of a British university student.

P.S. THANK YOU to all you lovelies who have been reading, following and commenting on my posts over the last two months I really, really appreciate it! Please keep sharing Overpacked and Underpaid with everyone you know, too many readers don’t spoil the blog ;).

I’m bored, I’m the chairman of the bored…

I had the most boring lecture in the history of all lectures today. The professor kept jumping from topic to topic and relapsing into her native language…DO I LOOK BILINGUAL TO YOU?

Oh why thank you.

(I’m not)

Does this face look bovvered about whether the Treason Act of 1351 which forbid imagining the death of the king, shagging his wife and counterfeiting the royal symbol, was breached by Sir Gawain in ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’ and thus allegorically demonstrated through the drawing and quartering of the hunted animals in the woods?

Err it does actually…

…quite a bit.

IT WAS THE DELIVERY, OKAY?

It was one of those classes that was so boring it makes you want to do something naughty and completely inappropriate to claim back the hours of your life you just wasted.

I may have considered pencil rolling down the isles, wearing my notebook as a hat, jumping out of a window, laughing really loudly, belting “My Heart Will Go On” with full Leo and Kate moves and willing someone to do a really loud fart.

Not necessarily in that order.

In fact I’m currently wearing my Spanish dictionary as a cheeky chapeau…has a little bit of je ne sais quoi to it don’t you think?

What’s that?

You don’t think I should be on the fashion show committee?

*Struts off with dictio-hat*

*Hat falls off head*

*Trips over hat*

*Falls into ditch*

I’ve realised that I’ve actually been more bored than usual since I’ve been at university, which lead me to the terrifying conclusion that it’s because I’ve been doing so much I’ve consequently become less lazy.

Hold on, I thought I just saw a pig flying past my window.

I used to be able to quite happily wile my days away watching YouTube and scrolling through Twitter and Facebook, now I actually have to do stuff to keep myself occupied.

This was especially apparent last night when, out of the sheer boredom of having finished all my work (say what?), I worked out how to turn my chair into a Ramba Zamba…

…which basically consists of straddling it backward and spinning round very fast.

In fact I’m off to have a go now.

Toodaloo motherfuckers!

P.S. “Dictio-hat” is a mashup (gold stars to anyone who gets that reference).

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!

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…