Ow-ee, ow-ee, ow-ee! That is the pitiful noise that has been accompanying my every activity today. Yesterday it was someone (replace the someone and insert the word my) bright (replace the word bright with the word ill-judged) idea that, because I felt mine and my housemates lives were just not hedonistic or rock and roll enough, that we should go out.  

But where to go thought I? It was a pretty sudden decision so it couldn't be anywhere too far or anywhere that required any real "getting ready to go out" preparation but would still enable us to pepper our lives with a sufficient amount of rock and/or roll. Then it dawned on me, Tuesday night the place to be is of course Quiz Night at the Old Horse, our local.

For some reason (basically because I wanted to get pissed) I decided to drink the old trusted house red wine. Just the one glass was the intention, until Essex pointed out that, a bottle is a glass and therefore with that logic in mind I precedded to drink "two glasses". Man alive, I'm feeling the effects now. Ow-ee, ow-ee, ow-ee.
 

Essex logic states that the picture above depicts a glass of wine. But what does that make the thing pictured below. My head can't cope. Ow-ee, ow-ee, OW-Bloody-ee

The quiz came and we conquered all (except for any of the other teams) and beat our personal best by actually achieving a score that was in double figures. We even got a special mention from the quiz master himself Sid "The man with all the answers to the questions you've never needed to ask" Simmons. He said we were "the girls that proved there really is no I in team, especially if that I stands for intelligence.".

I feel proud, honoured and humble in that order, mixed together with just the right amount of ow-ee.   

Okay. Lets see where we are then. Essay on neuropathic pain finished? CHECK! Journals required to be read before my tutorial on Thursday, downloaded, printed off and now just waiting to be rampantly highlighted in an array of bright yet in offensive day-glo colours? CHECK! Preliminary contents page for my disseration compiled? Errr.....well nearly. I've thought about doing it so thats half the job done so CHECK!

Hmmm, for once I feel remarkably on top of things. The pure magnitude of things I'm on top of at the moment means not only can I see the Great Wall of China from my humble location in Leicester but also the top of Big Fred's Head. This is no mean feat considering the Fred in question is about 29 and a half feet tall, even when he's not wearing heels, and can usually be seen from miles around.

Life is great. Apart from the fact I had no valentines yesterday, me and Mum Bum are not really on speaking terms (because of an argument that is not even worth wasting valuable, albeit free, blogging space on here) at the moment and my relationship with Hard Drive doesn't seem to have a progressed any further than me delibrately crashing my computer in order to catch his eye, him fixing it and fucking off.

Hmph! Its great to be me! :( 

Its amazing what a bottle of Blossom Hill Red and the manics can do for a girls state of mind. I haven't bothered updating the blog for the last few days because I've been a bit of a grumpy guts and writing about how shit my life was looking and then having to read it back and check it for mistakes really wasn't high on my list of priorities.  With an essay due in next Tuesday, tutorial work coming out my earholes as well as another impending meeting with my dissertation supervisor coming up in order to discuss my progress I've been feeling a teensy winsy little bit under pressure

When I get stressed I have to munch, specifically on carrots. Why it has to be carrots I'm not really sure but this week I've spent approximately £9.79 on carrots alone. I know thats quite alot, but it could be worse, I could be buying crack and where my student house is, I'm pretty sure if I took the streets with that amount of money I could probably match the weight in carrots I've bought this week gram for gram with crack, so this could have been a very real outcome.

I'm so bored. All I've been doing all day today is retrieving articles, reading them, highlighting them and typing the nuggets of fried gold they provide me with into my dissertation. Its blatant plagerism but who gives a shit? Every so often I'll leave my desk and go for a little wander round, see the sights that the library has to offer in an attempt to try and fend off an attack of deep vein thrombosis I've probably developed as a result of being sat in the same position all day.

I even saw Hard Drive today. Fresh back from wherever he's been but the overwealming feeling of "blah" I've got at the moment meant I couldn't be bothered to march over and demand an explanation for his absence. Can't even be arsed to muster the strength to try and send him off on a guilt trip about the man power and time I've wasted trying to locate him that probably should have been spent on wider reading for my course. 

I've been in since 9.30am working and I've still got another two hours to waste before my first lecture of the day at 5.30pm. I toyed with the idea of going home for abit but I know if I go back there I won't get any work done as I'll be sucked into the the blackhole of daytime TV that see's me sitting down to watch Neighbours at 1.40pm and then suddenly realising its midnight and I've been sat infront of the TV all night and not noticed. I'm not chancing it also because of the series of unfortunate events that followed last week, which resulted from me not going to this 5.30pm lecture.

Now you can just fuck right off. I'm bored but I'm not that bored!

Better do some more work. Actually, I'm going to go for a piss first. Its little activities like this that help to break the day up.

Ho hum.



 

I've been sat in the library all day and Hard Drive is nowhere to be seen again. That makes him awol for a week now. Like I said on Friday, I think this may require me to put on my Sherlock Holmes deer stalker hat, hire a side kick called Watson and get on to some elementary super- sleuthing in order to find out just where the man has got to. Its my duty, him being such an integral part of my imaginary love life and also because I owe it too my fellow students. Its dissertation time soon and who is going to be there to comfort all the arse munch's that lose their work or can't print it off because no-one is keeping the printers suitable stacked up with paper? Who, who, WHO!

Essential attire for all your investigative needs. I wear mine when I'm sleuthing, researching my essay's or searching down the back of the sofa for loose change!

See, its not just because I fancy him that I'm concerned about his whereabouts, his presence is important for the degree status of all the students here!

So far my detective work has taken me here, a list of all the staff of all the who run the computer area. Only trouble is, I don't know his name and there is no departmental pictures of any of the staff on the site like there is for all the other departments in the university. I reckon its a cover up! 

Better stop dragging my feet on this one, because if he doesn't turn up in five years or something he's officially dead.

See I know the law!

I'm not a terribly superstious kind of gal. If I see a pavement crack, I am going to walk on it, (it can't really be helped in my present state of chronic short-sightedness since losing my spec's because I can't see them to avoid them). As for all those shitty spam e-mails I get sent off people containing poems and pictures of puppies and the like, that state if you don't send them to everyone you know within 3 minutes of receiving it,  something really bad will happen to you. I figure that, I'm going to be on this earth for quite along time (accidents resulting from non-sending on of spam emails not withstanding) and eventually something bad happens to everyone at some point and I bet when it does no one sits there and curses the fact it was because they didn't send on some poem saying something like, "Friends are cool and friends are great, we are friends because I don't hate....(you)!".

However, this weekend did make me question this opinion of mine. Last week I lost my glasses and the love of my life. When I recounted this to Brummy, she told me to watch out because bad things always come in three's. Bollocks to that thought I. 

Then, Saturday night rolled round. Me and my housemates had got a takeaway in (chinese, I had prawn toast and chicken in black bean sauce with green peppers since you ask). I was sorting my food out in the kitchen and poured myself a glass of cool, refreshing and sweet tasting Ribena. With a plate in one hand and a cup in the other I didn't have any hands free to hold my phone. A conumdrum thought I.

Somehow I managed to hold it in the same hand as my glass of Ribena. Then, just as I was walking out of the kitchen,  Northerner came tear-arsing her way out of the front room, shouting "Orrr noooor! I've forgot me wontons!". She bashed into me. There was a split second of silence and then all I heard was a plop noise. Looked down to my glass and there was my phone, not swimming  but drowning in my glass of drink. 

I pulled him out and started adminstrating life saving treatment. I removed his battery and placed the hand set on the radiator. I knew he'd be alright as long as he had plenty of rest and no more fluids. I kept an all night vigil. The insenstivity of my housemates at such a time was obvious from their many heartless jokes about my phone being "unable to handle his drink" and being "in need of a drying out clinic.".  

Sunday I woke up, reattached his battery and the little fella sprang back to life. He's a little slower than he used to be and there's definately a visual change in him, his screen is a bit blurry now but the doctors say its probably due to water on his brain.

But still three bad things have happened now so as long as only good things happen to me now and no more bad stuff, I won'thave to reconsider my thoughts of superstition. 

Time for some good luck, good luck now I think!

I don't believe it. We've been through thick and thin (quite literally) me and my glasses but do you think I can find the bastard things anywhere? When I paid for them I made a commitment for life, I promised to love, honour, obey them, as well as polish them when the grey marks that tend to accumulate on them make everything I look at appear as if its been caught in a snow storm. This is really bad. I'm going to have to tell Mum Bum tonight when I phone up for my "weekly cheek in".

Its going to be another one of those conversations where she doesn't shout at me but makes it very clear she's very disappointed at me and my stupidity. She usually manages to tie in such admonishment with something along the lines of, "You've lost your glasses? Well we can only be thankful you don't have any children, lord only knows what would come of them.", or " Oh dear God! What am I going to tell Uncle Len about this?!". What the matter of losing my glasses has to do with my Uncle or any prospective children I'm going to have I never quite understand but she always manages to throw in something totally random regarding one or the other. Its going to be like the time I was in Sixth form and I kept losing my gloves so Mum Bum tied them to a bit of elastic, that I had to thread through my coat sleeves so that when ever I took my coat off, my gloves came off too. You know the type of thing babies have their mittens attached to.

Even I felt shame at being 17 years old and having to have my gloves tied together like those above but they were awfully snuggerly wuggerly!

She's going to do something as equally crazy this time I reckon. Lets hope this doesn't end as badly as the gloves thing though. You see, the week following her altering my gloves in this way I accidently left my coat on the bus and it, along with my gloves was never seen again. 

Speaking of things important to my normal functioning in life going missing totally unexpectantly and through no fault of my own (that I can remember) Hard Drive has been suspiciously absent this week. He's not been behind his computer desk all week. Well, there are lots of computer areas all over campus so maybe he's got to go and share his expertise over there. Or maybe he got tired of a certain someone starring at him manically all the time?  MAYBE HE'S BEEN SACKED! For being far too good his job and probably for putting the students off their work. Thats surely unfair dismissal. Unfair to him and to me. He was my main motivation for coming to the library everyday (that and the increasing pressing matter of wanting to get a 2.1 at the end of the year).

I'm going to have to invetigate. Hmmmm, what do I know so far? He's fit, he's a computer technician who sometimes works in the library and he's known to me and me alone as Hard Drive. Not much to go on. Not even his real name. Its going to be a tough case to crack but being a student and therefore an investigative detective extroidinaire (owing to the amounts of Murder She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder I watch each week) I'm sure I'm up for the job.



 

The fact its taken me this long to update the site since I went out on Tueday night and its now Thursday should serve as some kind of indication as to what a state we all got ourselves into. The last thing any of us can remember for sure is that we started the night off with two pints of Snake Bite and Black each and that we hit the vodka quite soon afterwards.   I have some hazy recollection of dancing like a loon when I heard "Faster" by the Manics being played, followed by "Babies" by Pulp and "Velocity Girl" by Primal Scream but I can't actually be sure if this really happened or not owing to the amount of vodka we marinated our poor innocent brain cells in. Ho hum.

It was Tuesday afternoon and 5.17pm. I had my first and last lecture of the day starting in 13 minutes and I was bored. So I went to the computer room to check my emails when there, bold as brass was one from the wonderful people at Mosh Nightclub telling me that tonight (tuesday) was student night, the night I'd put aside to finish the definative text on Neuropathic Pain and Shingles that I had been working on since my bastard lecturer had fiddled with my essay title. I couldn't possibly go out on the lash instead could I? 

I mean what exactly would have been the appeal? Double vodka and coke was £1.80, the music policy was 90's and noughties indie pop and I didn't have anything to be in for the next day. With this in mind, I packed up my things legged it home (5.30pm lecture.....what? Who?)  and quickly assembled the troops.

Wideload gave it some thought, pondering while scratching her back with  her diamond encrusted 24 carat gold back scratcher, before deciding she couldn't come becasue she had no money, Newby had something to do with geo-physics (what exactly I don't know because I instantly fall into a trance when ever she mentions anything about her course because it sounds so dull) and Essex just told me to fuck off.

This left just myself, the Northerner and Brummy as soldiers of the army against sobriety. 
Would we stand up and dance for what we believed in?  Of course we would! They'll be blood, vodka and moves made on the dancefloor tonight and I can't wait.  I can't remember the last time I've went out such is my studiously dedication to my course (5.30pm lectures aside).

This could get messy! 

I've been trying for the last three hours to try and start an essay I'm not even supposed to be doing. Bloody department, this is why I hate being a biochemist. I left on Friday with all the knowledge in the world about diabetic neuropathy in journal form clasped between my hot sweaty little hands ready to plan an essay over the weekend that would not just explain the causes and treatments of the disorder but probably save lives too.

Plan done, I sat down at the computer ready to write it this morning thinking about where I was going to put my Nobel Prize for Science and what science based quips I could put in my accepetance speech ("So we made cultured cells, and by that I don't mean we took them to the Tate Modern or the theatre!") because I was going to receive one due to the thought provoking discussion my essay would contain. Then I got an email through from the lecturer who set the question asking me not to do the essay  and instead do one on something completely different. Fuck, shit, bugger and piss too.