About four weeks ago now, I found myself helplessly aiding my intoxicated flat mate out of a card board box that she fell into, presuming it would hold her and the carefully detailed cave girl outfit she became attired in. Before she had the time to realise that the reality was that card board boxes were used mainly to store things in, not to support drunk girls who need to parch themselves while they aim to sober up, it was too late-She was embedded into a box that had moulded to the shape of her tushty and she was slammed into the fetal possistion in the corner of the wall.
Ofcourse this happens nowhere else but University. Lets delve further;
Having to adapt to living independantly amongst people my age and pratically the same financial status, has been easier than expected.
I suppose the best way to get the ball rolling when you do move into your own box room among the many hundred others, is to start on making some friends, after all they are who you depend on in moments of dire need [see box story for referances].
My little trip to making friends first began with some [then] strangers inviting me to the pub, a simple get together, not to messy and a general ‘date’ if you please- this date I believe went rather well, I was fortunate enough to have some pretty impressive and witty people to accompany me and my ye olde cider, instead of spending the evening with some ‘im so pretty and cute’ girl who likes Disney, her mate who likes Disney online and of course the third band geek who would enjoy a bit of Disney in print. So yeh a pat on the back for me thankfuly having some great company.
The second trip that me and my friend making set off on, wasn’t as formal and civil- this night ending up with me passing on my previous 12:38pm dinner of Raw carrots and BBQ sauce back to a girl who i’d only known a couple of days. I guess I not only passed my lunch on to her, but also her floor, toilet, sink and thatched beaty product basket that sat amongst her other posessions; We’l leave it at that.
Amongst being busy partying and passing vomit, there is also the adult things in University life that us kiddos have to fearcely concider, for example- sorting through the mountains of pots and pans, keeping your bathroom from rotting, doing your washing, stocking up on things to keep the calm, keeping check on your ‘£ounds’, being there to answer the frequent phone calls from the obsessive mothers etc etc blah de blah blah- anyway, you totally get the picture.
I have noticed that I haven’t actually included DOING THE WORK as of yet, so i’ll just quickly throw that in.. doing it or little of it; take a prefferance. Once again we’l leave that at that.
To conclude, I think its important to stress that since moving from home and living this independant lifestyle I have actually realised how difficult certain things can be and in comparrison how others can just be so simple, I have learnt that I need to really make the most of what I have, I have learnt that money really doesn’t grow on fucking trees, I have learnt that carrots and alchahol make a pretty impressive mess, I have learnt that trying on your friends shoes then digging the heel into your foot really fucking hurts, I have learnt that hangovers really are not so fun, I have learnt that breakdancing is actually really difficult, I have learnt that Dr pepper tastes EVEN BETTER when you are poor… But most of all I haven’t learnt the names for that assignment I have to hand in next week- Ah well,To the pub it is then…
I could try and fill this moaning article with overused and “life changing” quotes, But I wont, simply because I am absent of them.
However, a wise fridge magnet once told me “No one is aware of what you do, until you dont do it”, and a wise young chap much like myself, believes this more than his own birth date.
I think that as much someone can do something for the sake of doing it, there is a needing of recognition for doing it, I guess it highly depends on what it is your “doing”. I am now worried that the overuse of the word “do” is making it sound rather ambiguous, or whether me being worried about it sounding like that, now makes you think the same, and completely distracts you from the whole intention of what I am actually writing.
Anyway, for a while now, I have managed alot of things independently. Not by choice, but simply because I have had to, Because if i wouldnt do it, WHO WOULD?
I have never really done anything for any need of recognition, I have always been pro helping others and save the world.
But when you do something for the benefit of another human being, and they themselves do a big lard of jaff all, well it starts to become a no win no fee situation.
You see, a dilema now approaches me. Its a split decision:
Do I keep on “doing” and wait for them to realise that the big wide world isnt a friendly place to people who cant wipe there own piss off the toilet seat.
Or
Do I stop “doing”, in the hope they realise how much I actually do, and that they then start to aim better.
You see, if i were to take the “life changing” advice of the wise fridge magnet, well then it seems like option two would be the one for me, Cilla.
But you see, I could stop “doing” for so long, even the same number of years I spent thinking Britney was a virgin.
Nothing would change, I would still be the piss buster, i would still be “doing” a lot yet recieving a lot of nothing, I would still wonder “what if” and I would still come back to wipe the fridge magnets with a wet cloth.
Now, I have always been a fan of reinvention, y’know, the sort where kick the can reforms to be kick the gran or where pass the parcel becomes pass the ketchup or i’ll “happy slap” you, but the re-invention of the mobile is a bit too far for my appreciation.
It was only recently that I realised just how much of a virgin to this “modern phone” world I really am.
I can just about take the “contract” and the “cameraphones” but when it comes to the I-phone, I am dumbstruck. I can not physically touch an I-phone, they scare the technotic [yes i made that word up] shit out of me, They seem so precious, so inventive and so..so whats the word, so…SHIT?
I have my views on them and we’re all allowed them, so before you I-phone orgy loving creatures slack me for not liking it, hear me out okay.
They just seem to have more going for them than an actual computer, which YES I suppose is the logic of it, But I think people forget that this is a mobile phone, not a walkman-esque, music playing, video recording, internet browsing, porn watching, “app playing”, video calling piece of [yes i’ll use it again] Technotic… gadgetism [I also made that up].
Okay okay, so I am struggling to move on and “bum” the I-phone like 90% of the population [not an actual fact, dont quote me on that], and I AM all for change, but I just cant quite get rid of my “brick”. It has gone through so much with me; the battery gaurd has changed so many times that I have lost count, I have used a whole roll of celetape to hold my “brick” together, I can now only get 10 messages in my inbox until i need to delete again, i cant read any of the numbers or original text printed on the casing of the phone, Its been dropped to the floor on average about 10 times a day since i got it and when i go to call someone, its now telling me screaming at me “Get a new phone, Get an I-phone”.
To conclude, I am just setting myself a “note” on my “brick”, to remind me that i need to purchase some more celetape.
FACT- I was in that closet for long enough! Long enough that I managed to sand, varnish, screw and nail on every wall in there! (no sexual inuendo intended)
It was only recently that I “came out” as being Gay, and to some of you reading this, its probably the first you have heard of it so, SUPRISE!!!
Anyway, my point is that i am not sure i like the whole “coming out” palava, It just makes everything seem over celebrated and over decorated. I dont want you all to be celebrating the news that I am Gay, infact, I find it rather patronising! I just want you all to hear it, know it and end of!
But instead people like to hear the news, know the news and RAVE the news.
I think that for “non gays” the news of someone announcing they are gay is a big deal and a real bollock clencher! But really, there are women popping out 8 kids, and innocent and brave heroes dying for the sake of decisions made my self absorbed ”leaders”, so all in all, if me being Gay becomes an issue then surely its only a minor scrath on this Earth, compared to the other uptight shit we face daily, right?
It seems like when someone “comes out”, the majority of non gays like to think we need to celebrate it by having a party with a dress code of pink and a dildo thrown in with it.
I write about this so heavily, because when I came out it was a big deal to some! In fact, what shocked me the most is that the people I thought would be bothered by it, were actually quite acceptive of the fact, Whereas it really twisted the nipples of the people I thought would carry on regardless.
The thing is, I dont care that you are straight, non gay or “normal”, so why make such a big deal when I announce that “oh deary me, would you look at that, Hes a poofter”.
The moral of the story here kids is, I’M GAY! Hear it, know it and get over it, and if you really insist on throwing me a celebratory party then I prefer a black tie event, not pink!
Right, now, call me selfish if you like but if a stranger pissfully waddles over to you asking for money for the bus to some place i cant and wont even try to re-quote, then you just dont give it them, simple as.
Here are my reasons for this controversial decision that I blissfuly approached today over an ice cream and a confrontation with a pissed up stranger asking for money to some place i once again WILL NOT try to inform you of:
1- Hes probably been asking the same question all morning to hundreds of other mugs that dont realise he is just robbing them blind!
2- Robbing you blind for a fix
3- Genuinley needs the money for the bus but then realises that “Aldi” is doing an offer on there “Rustlers” burgers. [wow two company advertisements in one sentance, well I am a WINNER]
4- He has no money to even wear a shirt hence the fact hes asking you for money and wearing [yeh you guessed it] a big fat fuck all. Therefor he needs it for clothes yet doesn’t want to admit it and wants you to think he has that “chav toned” stomach out for the “ladymen”.
5- He genuinley needs the money for the bus and your a tight fuck to realise it.
If i were to choose the reason that i didn’t give this “well bodied” young chap some money, i’d probably date with number 5 Cilla ;) The main reason being that I am blind to this area of society and that I was unforcefully put into this posistion with no warning and it became the first thing that came to my head.
Afterall i’ve always been taught to “never talk to strangers”…
