Christmastime, Mistletoe and Jäeger…

That’s the lyrics, right?

Good old Cliff, the cheeky minx.

And so this post (more than) officially concludes my first term at uni…I clearly have an A* in timekeeping, I actually came home on the 12th.

*Slow clap*

We most definitely ended the year on a bang.

All of my flatmates and I headed to our local-est of local haunts and had the weirdest night ever….we’re convinced we all fell into some kind of Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole.

Think ecstasy without the…err ecstasy.

In my case, after one too many Jäegerbombs (bought by a very nice guy at the bar…did drunk Laura stay and thank him? Nope…she drank two, handed the rest to her friends and strutted off into a door..yes, into #nailedit….I digress) I decided to go for an “epic” adventure.

Aka I tottered off alone to a bench outside our flat to “get some air”.

Seems I have a little bit of a penchant for the outdoors when I’m tipsy (pissed)…I once made my flatmate lap a very drunk me around our uni accommodation eight times because I was “enjoying the breeze”.

There are no words.

(Thanks babe.)

Whilst there a very *handsy* arse decides to try and hit on me…I shoved him off, got up to leave and fell smack bang onto my chin.

It was the heels.

I swear.

It wasn’t.

I lied.

How-to-test-if-Youre-drunk-meme-cat-kitty-kitten

It hurt.

And I didn’t get a kiss under the mistletoe.

Turns out I then decided this was a reasonable enough trigger to get home and full on ugly cry, only to find most of my other female flatmates in tears too.

what-the-fuck-is-this

No one will ever truly know what went down that night.

Oh, hang on…

…maybe it was just that creepy bartender…

…you know…

…the one pouring our drinks.

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All in all we had a great last night out though, and a great term. I miss them all already!

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And so, in the words of my spirit animal, Bridget Jones…

December 16th, year-end summary:

Prison stays, none.
Alcohol poisonings, two.
Lesbian kisses (don’t ask), three (minds OUT of gutters).
Pounds lost, minus one (okay minus seven).
Boyfriends lost but then regained following major diplomatic incident, none #forveralone.
Marriage proposals, see above.
Boys kissed, you guys are such pervs, honestly.
New friends made, six (I hope).

An excellent year’s progress.

Overpacked and Underpaid has most definitely not cocked things up for the very last time.

Pinkie promise.

😉

Workin’ 9 to 5…

So as it turns out, Overpacked may just be on her way to being paid.

Yes you did just read that right.

And yes, I am well aware that I sound like a pretentious twat when I refer to myself in the third person.

Such fun.

Not overpaid mind you, which is what I actually want…just nicely minimum waged up.

I’m actually a little bit chuffed…I thought I’d absolutely cocked up the interview.

In the first place I forgot that I even had it at all.

You know that memory wipe phenomenon you get when walking through doorways…yeah…well I had that in reverse.

There I go lah di dah di dah…walking into the kitchen at half twelve to warm up my soup for lunch then…

…BOOM.

Brain presents me with *interview at 1*.

*Hand flourish*

*Fanfare*

23 19, I repeat we have a 23 19.

Monsters Inc. reference….yes?

No?

I of course lose my shit and run flailing out the front door, calling a taxi and then cancelling the taxi when I realise it’s actually going to arrive too late.

I contemplated walking (power walking…running).

Fuck that.

Bus it was.

I arrive in the nick of time…but then of course my Google maps decides it’s going to lead me in the completely wrong direction.

YOU HAD ONE JOB.

By the time I’d reached the top end of the high street I realised how hopelessly lost I was, and had to call the interviewer and ask for directions.

Professionalism?

Nailed it.

Anyways, I must have done something right, in the New Year I should be settling into the position of Customer Service Assistance at a beautiful little high end espresso cafe.

She said they needed smiley people like me at the front of house.

I think she confused “smiley” with manic.

Personally I think I looked a little more like this:

And what do I have to do in that position you ask?

LITERALLY smile and wave boys.

Smile and wave.

…Oh and carry (smash) the crockery.

P.S. Keep your fingers crossed for me will you? Pretty please. Pretty please with a cherry on top?

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*