Lesson #51

Tidy your room.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
Get on it, woman, you're meant to be good at cleaning! Why are you living in this dive?!
To be fair, it wasn't a dive, and it is a lovely room. Your endless pile of crrrraaaaaaaap, however is getting well in the way!
Sort it out. You deserve better than to have to swim through your own filth every time you want to get into your room. You're a human being, not a flea. Get some bloody standards and fucking stick to them.
You disgust me.
What's worse is that you're not the only one who uses this room anymore. It;s not like at home when your room was your space, your property, your shrine to you! Nope, now you've got people swanning in and out of it as they please. Like a hotel. Or a museum. Or something.
And it's not as if you don't enjoy their company, you're just so embarrassed about your scummy ways to let them in. Awkward.
Come on love, whack out the broom and don those rubber gloves, you've got a monumental task ahead of you...

Lesson #50

Celebrate.
50 posts ain't half bad chaps.
Well done to us!
When I say 'us', I really do mean 'me'...
Did you help me write this? No.
Did you inspire, create, influence, intrigue, indulge, interest, and other such words? Didn't think so either.
Essentially, you've just got a free ride. Well I got news for you, I'm like any other taxi, you gotta give a little for the take!
Joke.
Congratulations! Crack out the champers on me lads!

Lesson #49

Don't leave your room unattended.
Ever.
Don't innocently go to watch TV in your friend's room knowing full well that your door is unlocked.
Don't trust Lauren and Nick, or as I now call them the trouble twins. Lovely as they are, they are intent on one single purpose: raising hell.
They clingfilmed my stuff. All. Of. My. Stuff. They even did the mirror. And my teddy bear, who looks suffocated.
To be fair, I'm more amazed than angry. I'm genuinely impressed that they went to all that effort and wasted an entire roll of clingfilm.
Really chaps, tops to you!

Lesson #48

Don't shout abuse at your new friend when you're drunk.
To be honest with you, I don't even remember this happening. But apparently I was a complete bitch. More so than I usually am. And really offended somone who I get on really well with. How to make friends and influence people, huh?
I feel so awful. I wrote him an apology letter earlier but haven't had a chance to sneak it under his door. I'm such a cow. Such a massive cow.
I also texted him to say sorry... and maybe blame it on the shit load of alcohol I'd drunk, but never got a reply. I shit you not, I drank an entire bottle of wine, and that was just doing pre-drinks and games. Went on to drink a very large amount of beer and gin at a club. Think how I felt this morning - imagine the worst hangover possible then multiply it by being squashed by a grand piano falling on top of you from 2000 feet. Ouch.
Oh why do I do this to myself? First week of uni, meet some amazing people, get on well with them, say nasty, inappropriate things to them when drunk, write a letter of apology. That's not the way things are meant to work, Sarah, the sooner you learn that the better.
Value you're friends. They're lovely. All of them. Don't be rude or insulting to them, even if it is 'just banter'. Chances are you'll go that one step too far and really hurt someone. Take it from me chaps, this isn't the situation I wanted to find myself in.

Lesson #47

Don't lose your keys.
Turns out they're a pretty essential part of the getting into your room process. Who knew right?
Special thanks to the nice Night Porter for letting me in at 2 in the morning. What a lovely man.
Looks like I'm going to have to get a new one. For 50 pounds. 50. Pounds.
Which means I'll be forced to talk to the Warden. Who's boring, scary and smells weird.
Hate life.

Lesson #46

Host an Anne Summers party.
I know what you're thinking, I was exactly the same. Horrified, shocked, mortified... the list goes on. To put it simply, I was absolutely dreading attending a dildo fest.
Turns out it's nothing to be scared of. It's just a vibrating plastic cock, nothing to be worried about. And the trick to finding the one for you is to put it on your nose and see if it makes you sneeze. Learn something new everyday, right guys?!
So yeah, I've returned with some cola flavoured lube, a cleansing wipe for a dildo I don't possess, some adult playing cards - and they mean adult! - and a crotchless thong. Looking forward to trying that one out. Not.
Oh yes, and my inflatable pink knob chair is in the post on its way. I'll let you know when it arrives.

Lesson #45

Avoid northern tramps.

Oh dear God avoid them like the plague.

Quite possibly the scariest occurrence of my days.

So me and a few friends were innocently wandering around town today picking up a few bits and bobs and, yeah you guessed it, buying more booze when we stumble across Trampo staggering up the road, bottle of Jack in one hand and fag in the other. He randomly appears from behind some poor unsuspecting teenagers who he’s no doubt just harassed – you should’ve seen their petrified little faces – mumbling utter nonsense and dribbling into his hands. I noticed that he had about 4 teeth left, all of which were yellow and rotting, a gammy eye, and a limp before he began lurching towards us.

At which point I ran.

Far far away.

Into the Sainsbury’s local. Of which there are about 200 dotted around Hull and Cottingham. Which I find completely weird.

Anyhow, we were walking back to the bus stop after like an hour and he was still there! Only now he had made his way over to a girl busking with her violin, had set up camp in front of her - which could be nothing but distracting if not smelly and gross as well – and started conducting her whilst dancing about and singing along, or at least attempting to. All while some randomer was filming it on his phone. I fucking hope that ends up on Youtube and gets at least 1000 hits...

It was bizarre. Utterly bizarre. I’m not used to all this northern madness, the tramps in Bristol used to just sit quietly with their dogs, out of the way, with a cup of change. Like the good little homeless people they are. I find myself now so much more tolerable of southerners and their pleasant demeanours, all very humble, apologetic and calm. I can’t cope with this harassment on a daily basis, I genuinely don’t know how to react. And I can’t exactly hire a personal bodyguard. A) I’m not that pretentious and B) I could never afford it.

Looks like I’ll have to toughen up a bit. Get me some of that fierce northern charm. God help me...

Lesson #44

Read the label when buying beer.

That way, you might actually end up with real beer.

Not non alcoholic beer.

Feeling like such a crap student right now...

Who knew that Becks Blue was blue for a reason? Or that when they write in giant red letters over the box NON-ALCOHOLIC BEER that they actually meant it?

Screw being a crap student, I’m a crap person! Am I genuinely so inept that I fail to notice such eye-catching signs?

Yes, yes you are.

I’m so idiotic that I thought that it was just cheap because I was up North.

Well that little instance has certainly taught me my lesson. I might try to sell it off to someone else!

Lesson #43

Don’t listen to Killswitch Engage.

Don’t listen to the stranger your friend has just been carelessly tied to with a bin liner in an organised effort on the part of the Thwaite team to maximise the bonding experience. (Literal bonding might have been one step too far fellas.) He lied.

And I now have his CD and can’t remember where his room is.

Sorry Adam. Looks like you’ll be CD-less for quite some time...

Oh well. It’s not like it’s a decent CD anyway. Unless you consider an hour of wanting to scratch out your ear drums decent.

Didn’t think so.

Lesson #42

Go to the freshers’ fair.

So much free stuff!

And loadsa useful deals:

Free entry to Welly on Thursday and Saturday.

Life card for Pozition for free admission and queue jump.

Free rice from the local Indian.

Free pizza delivery from Dominos.

Free shots at Vodka Revs.

10% discount on laptop repairs.

£1 drinks at Fusion.

Half price cocktails at Sharkey’s.

Discount taxis.

More free curry.

(Currently going through my overly large stack of leaflets...)

Oh, and a free bible. Don’t forget the bible.

Thanks very much University of Hull. Good effort.

Lesson #41

Go to uni.

Now.

I don’t care if you have some lame ass excuse about costing or travel or fees or work or the simple fact that you’re shy. That’s bullshit. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Best few days of my life. Fucking wow. Things are amazing. Everyone on my corridor is so lovely and met some other equally wondrous people around my halls... really just having the greatest time. And that’s just in the daytime!

I shit you not, freshers’ has pretty much been the best week I’ve ever experienced in my entire existence – minus a few awkward episodes. Which I suppose is sort of a given, what with being shoved into a house with a load of people you don’t know and you’re pretty much forced to socialise with!

Then again, maybe it’s just me.

Definitely just me. Making people feel uncomfortable. Yet again.

But you must go to university, and stay in student houses or halls.

Must. Must. MUST.

Lesson #40

Don't watch 24 in one long marathon session, just to see if you can stay awake for that long.
It's not even 24 hours... take away all the ad breaks and its only like 19 and a half.
Liars.
Fuck me I'm tired... and hungry.
And really very bored of watching endless torture scenes and hearing phrases like 'The president of the United States of America is in danger' and 'Justice will be served' on a repeated loop for such a very long time.
I hate to say it, but I'm even bored of Kiefer Sutherland's sexy husky whisper of voice.
There's a reason why these shows are only once a week. Why didn't I just accept that instead of challenging myself? Idiot.

Lesson #39

Learn about money.
And banks.
Banks are possibly the most scary and confusing places. Filled with the dullest of people. Who you can't understand either because they're muttering so quietly or in such a weird language which must be fucking alien or something, or because they're blaring all this mumble jumble jargon crap at you about reward accounts and overdrafts and credit analysis.
I don't know what any of that fucking means!
Why don't you do what you're employed to fucking do and help me understand my budget and finance and MONEY! Help me understand money!
Bunch of greedy bastards.
Ugh I hate them. Mainly because I don't understand them. Wankers.
Note to self: must befriend someone studying accounting.

Lesson #38

Don't drink gin.
Gin is bad.
But also yummy.
Gin is bad.
And gives you a hangover from hell the morning after.
But provides for a very funny night in with your sister, laughing hysterically at The Jungle Book, various music videos, the dancing in Grease and the hand to cheek action in The English Patient before finally crashing out whilst fast-forwarding through all the boring bits in Titanic.
Fun times. Bad head.
And tummy.
Bleurgh.

Lesson #37

Don't forget you have a blog.
Of which you are meant to write at least once a day.
Woopsy...
I now have to pump out like 2 weeks worth of posts and change the settings to deceive people and make them believe I'm actually good at this whole internet palava. Haha suckers!
I don't know why I'm making this sound like such a bad thing, I fucking love doing this! When I remember about it that is...

Lesson #36

Don't be that girl.
Don't be the girl who sits and waits for the phone to ring.
Don't be the girl who wastes every day wondering when you'll next get to see him.
Don't be the girl who practically devotes herself to a boy.
Then again...
Don't fall for the boy who breaks hearts.
Don't fall for the boy who doesn't care.
Don't fall for the boy who left you once already.
Fall for the boy who looks at your eyes, not your tits. The boy who, if he had an ounce of musicality would write you a song, even if it is just to see you laugh at his crappy attempts. Who would travel around the world just to bring you back some funky hats.
I gave up hoping this person existed a long time ago.
Really, if I'm honest with you, today's lesson should be don't fall for anyone; they'll only use it against you. I don't know when the concept of love (if there is such a thing anymore) became a weapon instead of a blessing. I don't know when people became so regardless of everyone else. I don't know when someone flushed the toilet on our hopes of good old fashioned romance, and just sat idly by while every marriage statistic slowly drained out through the plug hole. It's like the whole population evolved to be born with invisible blinkers which stop you from caring about other people. Maybe our genes have mutated to provide us with less real emotion than that of a fridge. I really don't know.
Truth be told, I blame the media. Films and TV shows turned me into a hopeless romantic. Then reality came along and bulldozed right through that. Writers, directors and the screenplay teams of thousands of movies have donned out this boulder sized lump of false hope, making us believe in a thing called love. Which most teenage girls fall for. I certainly did. For a good 7 years I truly believed that I would find myself a Brad Pitt or a Chad Michael Murray in a random chance encounter and we'd fall irrevocably and reciprocally in love. Did that happen fuck! Thanks to the ass lickers at Fox and MTV for that, that really helped. Well done for listening to your ratings instead of the overwhelming feeling of wrongdoing and impending disappointment you've caused so many people. Real good job guys.
Happily ever after isn't real. Dead, cold and alone is. And that goes for all of us. We all end up six feet under. Or dust and ash in a pot on someone's mantlepiece. Or a body in a morgue, organless and frozen. The choice is yours.
My theory is, if you expect to get hurt by someone, then at least you're prepared when the blow finally hits. Now, I'm not saying that it hurts any less. It kills like a mother fucking bitch.
Well... it used to. It sorta grows into a dull, numbing, aching anger. And you cry out of frustration, not sadness. Which I suppose is better... but it took a fucking long time to get here.
Don't let yourself get drawn into that happy relationship bubble. Sooner or later somebody's gonna come along with a giant drawing pin and then you're screwed. Don't fall for some guy just because he smiled at you and held the door open, you're not gonna have a life together, he's not gonna father your children. Don't believe One Tree Hill or The Notebook, they're a little something we like to call fiction. Don't be that girl. For your own good.

Lesson #35

Clean your room.
It's real messy.
Like grossly messy.
Maybe it would look better if you just closed the drawers and made the bed?
Nope. It needs a lot more work than that.
You don't even have a carpet anymore, it's just a sea of clothing.
You get out of bed every morning and hear the dreaded crack of breaking plastic then have to rifle through the mass of denim and cotton to find what you wrecked. That ain't cool, bro!
C'mon, sort it out love. Even rats would turn this place down. Which is actually a very common misconception - rats, along with pigs, are among the cleanest mammals on Earth.
Still... cows would turn it down. And cows smell. And can't walk down stairs.
I don't know when this became Fun Facts with Noah, all I know is his ark was probably a darn sight nicer than your room at the minute.
Get on it: tidy!

Lesson #34

Don't drink 5 cups of coffee in one sitting.
You are literally buzzing.
Calm the fuck down you crazy whore. All this caffeine is not good for you. It's gone straight to your head. And your tummy... which feels much wobblier than usual.
Coffee is also a laxative. Which is why you've peed like twenty times in the past hour. You might as well set up camp in he bathroom.
Just talking about the bathroom arouses my bladder. Look what you've started now! My word, you're more trouble than you're worth aren't you... you cause yourself so much grief.
Don't drink excess coffee in one period. It does crazy stuff to your head. And causes you to ramble like a maniac... Sorry...

Lesson #33

Get a fucking job.
You low life.
You have no money. You are scrounging off your parents. This is not cool. You talk so much about being independent and self-reliant, you fucking hypocrite. Have you seen yourself? You have no money. You do noting with your life. You can't do this ANYMORE! Go write a chuffing CV and earn a living. Your student loan won't last for life, sort yourself out. It's not like you couldn't do it, you're a smart girl, you adjust well to new situations and you like learning new skills. You can't avoid this much longer, you need a job. N.O.W.

Lesson #32

Don't lose the back of your phone.
Turns out it's sort of necessary.
While in theory it may appear almost humourous to have the battery of your phone fall out every 30 seconds, in practice it's really not. Neither is getting strange messages pop up on the screen telling you that your sim card registration has failed and that you need to try again later. That's not much fun, no. It seems to me that next to every function my phone used to carry out has now ceased and I keep getting alerts telling me OPERATION HAS FAILED. Well no shit, Sherlock. Really, well done for that, you deserve a fucking medal.
Apparently without the bit that holds everything together, it all falls apart. Funny that. Looks like I'll have to buy a new one. With all the money I have saved up. Not.

Lesson #31

Have a girl's night in.
With Disney.
And wine.
Lots of wine.
It was so nice to have a relaxing, chilled night in with my two best girlfriends, I highly recommend it. It was heaps better than going out, and so nice to have a catch up and a proper good laugh with them while Hercules played in the background.
And it was such a relief to get all the boy stuff off my chest and get some trusty female input on the situation. Well done chicas, you did Momma proud!
That said, I've never consumed so much chocolate in all my years... I have a proper little food baby on the go. He needs to aborted at the sit-ups clinic. Damn, I hate exercise.
Go buy some wine and a disgusting amount of calorific food, stick on a bit of Disney and let loose with your girls, it's guaranteed to make you feel twenty times better.

Lesson #30

Drink Costa coffee.
Not Starbucks.
Costa's nicer.
And your brother works there so you get it free. Woo fucking hoo!
This also means that when he works the closing shift, he gets to bring home all the food that's about to go off...even though it still tastes fine!
We're talking free cupcakes, muffins, paninis, little almond tart things... once he brought home half a carrot cake. That was a good day!
Love Costa. Not war. I mean Starbucks.

Lesson #29

Don't feel guilty about being the better person.
Woops...
Don't text him the day after, apologising for being a heartless bitch.
Let's be honest, you weren't that heartless.
Well... yes you were. You're a soulless ice cold queen. Ouch.
The moment you text him, you're not over him anymore. And you realise how much you miss him. And then he's right back in your life and you're right back where he wants you. An ant under his metaphorical foot.
Bugger.
What have you got yourself into now, Miss Owen? Another sticky situation eh? Tsk tsk.

Lesson #28

Be the better person.
It feels gooooooooood.
If your twatty ex boyfriend randomly texts you after a good 2 months of ignoring you, for no given reason, don't get wound up in what he's saying to you. He lies, he cheats, he's a bastard, you're worth twenty of him.
Even if he tells you that he's had to go to hospital because he's been diagnosed with depression and is going through a really hard time right now, you'd really be better off not talking to him. Harsh, yes, but pragmatic.
And when you ask him if there was something he wanted, and he replies 'nah I just thought I should speak to you, sorry' don't rise to it.
Really? You thought you should speak to me? After neglecting me and abandoning me without warning or justified reason? You thought that now, right at the point where I've finally moved on from you, and I'm not crying endlessly because of you, that you'd take this rare opportunity to speak to me? You really think you deserve to speak to me after the shit you put me through? After all those months of waking up every morning and thinking 'this'll be the day... this'll be the day when he actually acknowledges my existence', you thought that now would be the ideal time to speak to me?
You prick. You absolute nobbing bastard prick. I am so better off shot off you. Wankshaft, tossing, inconsiderate, pathetic, rude, obnoxious cunt of a man.
I was so proud of myself for replying: You don't have to speak to me, I think you made it pretty clear where we stand. And I don't need your apology.
So very proud. I didn't lose control, I didn't resort to abuse, I didn't even get angry until a few minutes after. Result!
Be the better person, it feels oh so very good!

Lesson #27

Don't try to be something you're not.
Be you.
You're good at being you.
You've been you for a long long time, you're pretty much an expert.
Why change all that you-ey goodness for something else? People are different for a reason: variety! No one wants to know 50 versions of the same person, no one wants to speak to you if they've had the same conversation the exact same day with the exact same person, that's the definition of boredom.
Mix it up a bit, guys. Be different and fucking embrace it! I am so tired of walking down the street and seeing everyone wearing the same clothes, the same brands, the same shoes. I'm tired of listening to the radio and hearing the same music, the same artists, the same songs.
There's nothing new anymore! There's nothing that excites or impresses me. There's no one who stands out from the crowd anymore, no one who pushes boundaries or breaks moulds. It's the same thing day in, day out. Another day, another nighmare. I'm sick of it.
Why can't people be brought up in an environment where they're encouraged to be different and be comfortable in themselves? Why are we so caught up in our own insecurities that we feel like it's a necessity to fit in with the mainstream? Why does everyone have to follow routine? It's not a law for God's sake! There's no social regulation that states you have to be a slightly altered version of the same prototype. We aren't fucking barbie dolls. We aren't perfect. And the best part is we don't bloody have to be!
Okay, I appreciate people making an effort and wanting to impress someone, wanting to be accepted. But surely it's better to find a group of people or a place where you really truly belong, where you feel you were born to be, instead of attempting to jump on the bandwagon. Is there really such a thing as normality anyway? Everyone has imperfections, stop striving to demolish them and just accept it! They make you you. You shouldn't change who you are, you shouldn't deny yourself. You shouldn't change because somebody appreciates you for the you you are right now. Don't let them down.
Don't try to be something you're not. Be you.

Lesson #26

Kill all moths.
They are evil.
And they are out for blood.
Lock up your windows and doors, villagefolk, the genocide between moths and humans is upon us. They are on a killing spree, coming soon to a town near you. Grab the torches and pitchforks and get hunting.
I was attacked last night by a riotous babble of moths. Moth louts. One flew into my ear. It was practically gang rape.
I despise the creatures. They're disgusting and creepy. They also have no sense of direction - other than towards lights obviously - and always seem to aim at my face. It's especially bad when it's a really hot night and you have to sleep with the window open and they come rushing in like its sale day at... I dunno, Next?
It drives me round the flipping bend, and I have stood through quite enough of their pesky ways. The time for payback is now friends. Kill the moths, kill them all, they're evil.

Lesson #25

Find the playstation memory card.
I know you challenged yourself to complete Spyro: Gateway to Glimmer in one go, but that's just too hard. Who were you kiddng? Really? Go find the fucking memory card and then you can go to sleep. It doesn't matter if you defeat Ripto now or in the morning, it's just a silly fucking game for six year olds. Who cares if you haven't got every single orb in the game, it's not important. Your sleep is. It's vital. You're tired enough as it is without staying up until stupid o'clock - somewhere between far too late and far too early. Get thee to a bed. Get thee off thy console. Get thee under thine duvet and thou shalt rest until the dawn awaketh your soul.

Lesson #24

Start packing.
Early.
You have to fit the entire contents of your life into the back of the car.
That's an awful lot of stuff. Random stuff. Stuff that you've gathered over the years that you don't really want, let alone need. But that you're too protective over to chuck out.
You really don't need a magazine from when you were 14, or all those CDs which are now on your laptop, or the Disney videos that can no longer be played since VCRs were viciously wiped out in a retro-film-watching-experience massacre. You don't need any of it.
Stop being a hoarder. It's just junk; clutter; garbage; rubbish; useless crap. Throw it. Away.
You have to be brutal. These are not personal artefacts that have in some way shaped or changed your life. These are meaningless items that you have no wish for. Not anymore. Crack out the bin bags and away with it. Good riddance.
Oh... well I can't throw all of it away. I like my stuff. It's good stuff. It's served me well.
NO! Bin it. Now.
Start packing. Early. The sooner you get into the mindset of ridding yourself of this stuff, the sooner you can buy new stuff for uni. Yay... uni!

Lesson #23

Don't read the Twilight series.
It doesn't need any more explaining really.
Sorry this is getting to you a little late, but this blog wasn't alive in time for me to warn you all. Although, by now you've probably taken the plunge, seen what all the fuss is about. I hope it was as lacklustre and irritating for you as it was for me. I really, really do.
More importantly, I hope Stephenie Meyer is ashamed of herself. Teaching young children that having sex with vampires is not cool. Teaching young children to grow up into a mopey, stuck up brat of a person is not cool. Teaching young children that being completely dependent on another person and relying on them whole-heartedly in order to live is not cool. Teaching young children that in the end everything works out okay... Is. Not. Cool. Honestly woman, give these kids a chance.
And please stop writing. For a lady with a degree in English Literature, you're a really shitty author. Your other book The Host was just as bad. I don't know why I bought it. I can safely say that it is the only book that I have started to read and never finished. You should be proud. Congrats.

Lesson #22

Play The Lord Of The Rings Drinking Game.
At least once in your life.
I don't care if you're not a nerd like me. I don't care if you haven't read the books or seen the films. I don't care if you don't like the work of JRR Tolkein. Play. The damn. Game.
It is so much fun. And gets you so fucking bladdered. So bladdered that even if you don't like the movies, you'll just stop caring and be like 'Woohooo! LOTR! Yeeeeah, get me some Gandalf, UMPH!' Drunk times, friends. Drunk times in Middle Earth.
Here are the rules:

1. Everyone must be allocated a character from the three films. You must now refer everyone to their allocated characters. If you call them by their real name, you must drink two fingers of your drink.


2. Frodo is the only hope for the existance of Middle Earth, especially Samwise. All players must do what Frodo tells them to do.


3. Any time you see "the one ring" you must take one finger of your chosen drink.


4. Any time a reference to "the one ring" is mentioned, you must take one finger of your drink.


5. Any time Gollum says "my precious... GOLLUM GOLLUM." You must repeat straight after "my precious... GOLLUM GOLLUM." in the same tone of voice. The last person to do so must down the rest of their drink.


6. Any time any of the characters over pronounce the letter 'R' in words, you must take 3 fingers of your drink. Mordor is a bitch on this one.


7. Any time the Dark Lord Sauron is mentioned, you must take 2 fingers of your chosen drink.


8. Every time Aragorn appears on screen, you must quote "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn" or "I am Isilsur's heir, not Isildur himself". The last person to quote these must drink 2 fingers of their drink.


9. Anyone who is wearing a ring at the start of the game can make a rule up, as they are wearing the ring of power.


10. Every time the Shire is mentioned, everyone must drink two fingers of their drink.


11. Whenever a black rider comes on screen, Frodo must hide behind a pillow/out of sight. Otherwise he is captured by the fiends and must down his drink!


12. (Return of the King only.) Once Frodo destroys the ring of power, everyone must consume all of the remaining alcohol in sight in celebration of his tremendous effort of destroying the ring... and keeping Samwise out of his ass.


13. Every time Gandalf insults Pippin, you must shout "FOOL OF A TOOK" and drink 3 fingers. The last one to shout "FOOL OF A TOOK" must down their drink.

So go! Go watch one of the movies and play! Or the trilogy back to back if you're brave enough! I advise you to bring buckets. Hope you don't die from alcohol poisoning.

Lesson #21

Don't stay on the sofa all day.
You have a life, do something with it.
Watching endless movies on Sky Anytime may sound fun, but it's not. Movies are dull. There haven't been any decent movies since Disney released the first Mighty Ducks film. Which was epic. That is not a lie...
So there might have been a few okay movies, but none of them are actually memorable, none of them are worth paying to watch. Apart from Tangled... that was an ace movie.
Also, while the prospect of six back to back Scrubs episodes may seem entertaining enough at the outset, I'm telling you now the novelty soon wears off. Sure I love a bit of JD and Turk as much as the next guy, but three hours of them non-stop is just annoying!
Honestly, I've had the least productive day probably since I was a baby. I didn't have a shower until like 6.30pm despite waking up at 9 in the morning. That's right, I stayed in my dressing gown for seven and a half hours watching crappy TV. I knew I had to get up when my eyes hovered over Psychic Sally on the Road for just a fraction too long. This was after the Jeremy Kyle marathon.
I am 18. I am classed as a citizen of Great Britain. I am legally allowed to drive, drink alcohol, go clubbing, have sex, go to jail, get a job, get married, a whole bunch of shit. Yet I dickishly decide to spend my days cooped up inside by myself watching old re-runs of Doctor Who and eating marshmallows out the packet. Something's gone wrong there. Something's not right.
There's so much I could be doing, so why in God's name am I not doing it?! It's inconceivable! It's ridiculous. It's just plain lazy. In a few weeks I'm gonna be jetting off to university... is it likely that I'll bit in my pyjamas for days on end doing a whole lot of nothing then? Doubtful. So why the fuck do it now?! Sarah Owen, get yourself a fucking life! You have so much to give!... You have a fair bit to give... I guess...
Don't stay on the sofa all day. You have a life. Use it for God's sake, you lazy little shite.

Lesson #20

Don't put pictures up on Blogger.
Do you have any idea the ordeal it took for me to get that last post up looking as perfect and neat as it does now? Let me rephrase that, as moderately decent as I could possibly get it to look as it does now?
SO long! And so not worth it. I don't even like photos of myself, especially not that many compiled into such a small space... It worries me just how scared I look in half of them, like properly petrified. In my defence a lot of those things don't have eyes painted on, which is kinda freaky.
I genuinely cannot believe it took me like 2 hours to do one post. The effort I go to just for this. It's pathetic. I need a life.
If you value your time and like to spend it in normal ways and dong normal things, don't create a blog and upload pictures onto it, it's very stressful and I'd even go as far to say as a little bit traumatic.

Lesson #19

Go on a gorilla hunt.
Wearing silly hats and wigs.
If the local zoo has created 60 plastic gorillas, sent them out to schools and charities to decorate, and then placed them around town, you would be a fool not to look for all of them. A ruddy fool.
So what if it's a childish thing to do? So what if while parading around the centre with your mum you learn that only children below the age of ten are doing this? That you're the only 18 year old who wanted to have your photo taken with every gorilla? So bloody what, whose to stop me?
To tell you the truth, it was the best fun I've had all summer; loading up the back of the car with a vast array of different headwear and gunning around Bristol with a map, a list and a full tank of gas. Who could ask for more? Stop off at a couple of pubs, have a livener, and back to the quest. I am telling you now I was a maid on a mission!
And if you don't believe me and think that I would be too embarrassed to go out in public with a bag full of ridiculous hats and wigs and wear them while my mother phtographed me next to a life size plastic model of a gorilla, I have fucking evidence. Don't look so silly now do I?! Wait... Up yours. Please note, no gorillas were harmed in the build up to this post.

Lesson #18

Don't speak to the same person every single day.
It just gets boring.
It's especially bad when they're a really nice person and you could get on with them really well. But talking to them every single fucking day is just too much. After, what, three years now, I am so bored of you that I dread it when your name pops up on IM. And I know that you'll say hi. And we'll have yet another mundane, meaningless, monotonous conversation.
Yeah, I used to get on with you better than anyone else, and I used to call you my best friend, but now I can't stand you! I have said everything to you that I possibly could. There's not one conversation that I could have with you that I haven't had before. Sad, I know, but true. You drive me up the fucking wall.
And when you know someone inside out and there's nothing left to uncover or learn, then you're well and truly stuck. Where the hell do you go from there? I'll tell you where: downhill. You begin to pick up on annoying little traits they have that never used to bother you but now make you want to scratch your eyeballs out. Like the fact that they can't tell the difference between its and it's. Or your and you're. And that they always put two qustion marks... because one just isn't enough? What? That's crazy! Did you pay any attention in English Grammar?
Or the fact that all they ever talk about is computer games or cider. Or that they never ask you about you. Which sounds selfish, and yeah really is selfish but so fucking what? It takes two to tango. Why don't you give a damn about me, or my day, or my opinions? To be honest, it's nothing short of rude.
And I hate that we used to be so close, and now I don't want to see you anymore, but I can't help it. It's not exactly anyone's fault, some things just don't work out.
So don't speak to someone every day, not if you care about them. People need space, no one likes to have a limpet as a friend, clinginess has never been a good thing. So don't do it. For both your sakes.

Lesson #17

Shower.
Everyday.
I know this one goes without saying, but I've had a boring day, nothing has happened, it's late, I'm tired and I need sleep so badly. Cut a girl some slack, would'ya?
Anyway, one little reminder can't hurt right? Hygeine is a very important thing in our day and age. And besides, no one wants to speak to you if you smell. So bathe daily and use deodorant. Perfume too if you can afford it!

Lesson #16

Sort out your university accomodation.
Pronto.
Don't wait around for ages wondering if they've recieved your application, or if its being processed still, or if it's in the post. Call them!
You don't want to arrive in a strange city that you don't know well that has a - and I think it's fairly safe to say this - shit reputation and find that you have nowhere to live.
Do you really wanna be kicking it with the tramps on the streets of Hull? Didn't think so.
So sort it out. Pronto!

Lesson #15

Don't set Facebook as your homepage.
Bad move.
Have you noticed how addictive that thing is? Mark Zuckerburg, you really knew what you were doing didn't you. Bastard.
Why is it necessary for us to know what everyone is doing, every minute of every day? Why do we care about what people from primary school, who we don't even speak to anymore, are doing this weekend? Or where they went last night? Or when they're getting a haircut.
Their life most likely doesn't affect yours in any way, shape or form. And yet you find yourself glued to the screen for hours. Even when nothing is happening! I tend to sit there and press the Home button until someone updates a new status. Which nine out of ten times doesn't interest me at all.
Facebook chat is dreadful as well. From the little annoying sounds it makes to the sheer volume of people who have nothing better to do with their lives than speak to you, it irritates the shit out of me.
And why do we have to friend everyone we've ever known in our lives? Even the ones we don't like. How is it that 'friend' has beome a verb? It's a noun! At least it used to be, when people socialised face to face. When if you wanted to see someone, or talk to them you had to make the effort to see them or call them. Back in the day, eh?
That's what bugs me most, that life has now become so effortless that we can just click a few buttons and we feel that that's worthy enough of socialising. 'Liking' someone's photo doesn't constitute to how well you know them, or how well you get on with them. It doesn't develop or progress your relationship with them. It does fuck all. And yet, in our minds, it counts for something... It counts because we took all of 2 seconds to click a button? Really?
The worst part is that it tells you when someone's birthday is! I used to feel so good about myself because I can remember everyone's birthday, and no one else I know can. That makes me feel pretty damn good, not gonna lie. And people used to like it when I remembered their birthday, it made them feel special. Now, everyone gets told everyone's birthday in a fucking notification! And no one feels special. Sad. Times.
I saw this on youtube a few weeks ago and totally agree with every word he says!
http://www.youtube.com/user/nerimon#p/u/9/tqs_JZO9U4U
So don't set Facebook as your homepage, you will become addicted. You know what, don't even get Facebook. Don't bother with social networking at all. You have a voice for a reason, don't rely on the fucking computer all the time! Bad move indeed.

Lesson #14

Avoid drinking heavily four nights in a row.
Girls, alcohol makes you do stupid things.
The sooner you learn this, the better. Alcohol turns good people bad, ignites this little fire demon inside you intent on one purpose and one purpose only: destroying your dignity. And I assure you, after four nights of the same, I am left with none.
I'm not even sure I have a single brain cell left, it feels like they've all shrivelled into dust. It hurts...
Honestly, if getting off with four boys in as many nights doesn't make you feel awful, I'm pretty sure nothing will. Four girls maybe...
Everybody hates the drunk version of themselves, I'm sure. Whether you're the violent drunk, the happy drunk, the embarrassing dancing drunk, the puking drunk or, in my case, the friendly drunk. Only friendly is an understatement. I'm the 'jump any guy whose available' drunk. They don't even have to be available. Alcohol turns me into a sex monster. A genuine monster. I'll snog anything that moves at the mere hint of ethanol. It's attrocious. It's even worse when the only people you go out with are your close friends.
I feel like such a whore. It's terrible, I've had to text so many boys the morning after: I'm so sorry about last night. Sometimes with the added sad face. You know it's bad when you have to add the sad face. :(
The thing is, I need a drink to relax. Not even lying, I need it. Otherwise I'm really boring. And I'd rather suck off my best mate in a field than be boring.
Did I just say that. Wow. New personal best. All. Time. Low.
I'm certain that there are plenty of other reasons why you shouldn't go binging every night of the week. Namely cancer, liver cirhossis, heart disease, brain damage, and risks of drink driving, pulling idiotic stunts, disorderly and violent behaviour, jail, need I go on?
But for me, the morning after is payback enough. Not just the hangover but the moment of realisation when it dawns upon you what, or rather who, you did last night. Nothing quite beats that.
Avoid drinking heavily, girls, alcohol is the devil incarnate!

Lesson #13

Don't use your passport as ID.
Ever.
You will lose it.
You will spend the next few days fretting about nothing but the fact you lost your passport.
Your. Fucking. Passport.
Your brother will then find out and shout at you.
Not that you need shouting at. You're crapping yourself.
And you feel so scared to tell your parents because they'll kill you. Literally, they will tie the noose to the banister and strap you in. No questions asked.
You will feel sick, I mean physically ill that you could be so unbe-fucking-lievably stupid.
But you have to tell them. You have to.
And so you do. Mum of course, Mum's good cop. Dad's not just bad cop, he's cut-throat.
And, you know what? Mum's amazing.
"It's only a bit of paper, Sarah, what are you gtting so worried about? Let's go have another look for it and if we can't find it, we'll report it to the police, fill in an LS01 form and apply for a new one. It'll be fine."
Mum, I freaking love you!
Sadly, I have to pay £77.50 for a new one. Woops.
Don't use your passport as ID. I'm warning you now, take it from someone who's been there: YOU WILL LOSE IT!

Lesson #12

Spontaneously go on holiday.
Whenever possible.
If your mother randomly comes home one day and proposes a fully paid trip to Cornwall for the week, you would be a fool not to accept. A week away from the boredom of your own home and the stresses of your life, a week to be filled with blissful, easy ignorance and mindless self indulgence. Yes. Please.
So what if the weather wasn't as summer-y as it could've been? It wass worse back home... and it wasn't home! Nice nice niiice.
Seven days spent watching beautiful surfers just chilling on a beach, eating ice cream and pasties, flirting with boys in a folk rock band in St Ives and playing canasta with a bottle of gin. All paid for by your wonderful mother and sister. Who could say no?! Money well spent girls, good fucking job.
Do it, seriously! I advise it. Even if it is to a shitty cabin in muddy Scotland, or some rough council estate in Norway; whatever, who cares? Just get away from where you are and have an awesome time somewhere else! Somewhere else is my favourite place.
Go on, off you go on your spontaneous travels. Just hop in the car, drive to a ferry dock or an airport or find a hot air balloon... Your choice. Just get away. Whenever poss.

Lesson #11

Don't go to foam parties.
Else risk death.
I don't understand how some people enjoy this kinda thing. It's insane. Personally, I'm not a big fan of being squished in a mosh pit full of tall drunk men (who literally towered above me!) whilst having the most disgusting smelling foam sprayed over me. Fair enough if it was just a mild scattering of happy foam, but truck loads of evil foam is a bit much!
It. Was. Everywhere. I couldn't see for foam, I couldn't breathe without inhaling foam, I couldn't move to avoid foam, I couldn't speak otherwise I would eat foam. My hair still smells of foam after 17 hours and being washed twice. I've had enough foam to last a lifetime!
I was drenched in the stuff... thank fuck I was wearing a black top otherwise I would've been involuntarily entered into the wet T shirt competition and would definitely have come last. For the record, foam showers, not a good idea.
The rest of the night was bloody amazing though. And well needed. My results were pretty good: Psychology - A; Literature - A; Biology - C. It wasn't enough t get into Edinburgh where I desperately wanted to go, but I'm going to my insurance Hull, which should be fantastic... quite excited!
Although I've been solidly drunk or hungover for the past like thee days, and I'm started to feel the effects. This also means I have learned several important lessons to teach you, but rules are rules, one post a day!
Todays being very potent, I feel. Don't go to foam parties, else risk a foamy, foamy death.

Lesson #10

Don't give a shit.
Just literally don't.
The world isn't worth the shit you have to give, you have some damn good shit, look after it. Keep it to yourself, enjoy it in private...
Situations as crappy as ones you find yourself presented with are just petty. You don't have to respond or care about them. It's only life, y'know, don't fucking bother with it.
At the end of the day, you are one person out of 7 billion. You are worthless. You are insignificant. The world doesn't care if you're angry or upset or happy or anything. You can't change anything so why try? Just leave it alone.
Don't give a shit... literally, you're better than that. Just don't.

Lesson #9

Don't think about results.
Do not think about results.
Think about rainbows. And bunny rabbits. And lollipops and candyfloss and fluffy pillows and sunshine. Push results to the back of your mind.
13 hours and 49 minutes to go.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shi-i-t.
Quick, down the bottle of vodka!
Just don't think about your results or how badly you've screwed up or how the rest of your life officially starts the second you wake up tomorrow. It's only life, right? How bad can it be?
Bugger.
Don't think about it. Don't even think about it. Do not think about results.

Lesson #8

Don't believe a word Elastoplast says.
Water resistant plasters? My arse.
Here is a quote off the box in which my crappy plasters came in: 'Breathable, water and dirt repellent plasters with a non-stick pad to protect and cushion your wound. Also with strong adhesive material which seals your wound all around to prevent dirt contamination.'
Bunch of lying, cheating dicks. Like hell are these plasters waterproof! I'd barely even got into the shower before it was peeling off, desperately trying to make an escape through the bathroom door. One drop out the tap was all it took for it come clean off. Screw your adhesive materials Elastoplast, try testing your products before you brag about them! What a lot of bullshit.
My wound doesn't even feel cushioned.
Also, why say they're dirt repellent if you've claimed that they're strong sealing as well? Surely that's just repeating yourself which is bad advertisement. Did you learn nothing in business school Mr Beiersdorf? Nothing at all?! Not only is your product a piece of wank but your design and advertisement are shit too. Someone get me on Dragon's Den.
This isn't the first time it's happened either. These plasters always come off, even when there's not a pond in sight! What's worse is that they seem to fall off due to the slightest bit of movement. Wiggle your little toe and the plaster on your arm will just drop off! It's bloody ridiculous and really fucking annoys me. If you hadn't already guessed.
So yeah, don't buy Elastoplasts, despite their cunning packaging lies. Scandal. Cheek. Grr!

Lesson #7

Don't be embarrassed by the sound of yourself weeing.
Everyone wees!
I'll be the first to put my hands up and say that I'm a total sucker for this. Literally, the mere hint of that tinkle of liquid on porcelain makes me cringe so much. All the way through school, I refused to go to the toilet if someone else was in there; childish to say the very least, I know, but that's just me.
The thing is though, I'm pretty sure that every other woman in the Northern Hemisphere feels just as uncomfortable when stepping into a public bathroom. It's particularly bad when a queue forms behind you, especially in airports, and the sense of mortification dawns on you that all these strangers' ears are going to be graced by the sound of your body ridding itself of excrement and waste. Positively delightful.
But why should you be humiliated by this fact? It's just urine, after all! People need to wee, it's a natural bodily function, it's not some dark or shameful secret. If we didn't wee, ammonium toxins would build up in our bodies, slowly poisoning every living cell we are made up of. And I for one certainly don't want that to happen.
Besides, when are you ever going to bump into that old woman by the hand-driers ever again? It's not a big deal, it's not like she's going to discuss the sounds of weeing with Vera from over the road when she gets home and your urine specifically will be brought into the conversation.
I say wee harder! Get it over with quicker! Let them know you're not afraid, that you are a proud, upstanding citizen in our modern-age society, and if you wanna pee go fucking pee! Don't be ashamed or embarrassed by it, everyone wees.

Lesson #6

Always listen to the music from your childhood.
Face it, life was better when you were eight.
Now, I tend to do this on a regular basis; there's a club in Bristol that on Saturday nights only plays cheesy pop music, one hit wonders and blasts from the past. It sounds ridiculous I know, but there is nothing more certified to cheer you up than a few number ones from when you were six.
I can remember dancing to these tunes at my year five disco before chugging a Panda Pop and wondering why Jamie Shepherd refused to talk to me after I just kneed him in the balls. (I was nine, I didn't know any better...) Life was good back then, and easy and carefree. And singing along to Enrique and S Club bring back all those wonderful feelings.
Yes, you may look like a moron singing into your hairbrush and bopping around like a lunatic on a full moon, but who cares?! You can't deny that amazing sense of excitement when Five or Shania Twain comes on the radio and you feel that buzzing sensation in your legs wuch just screams 'Time To Dance!' There's nothing quite like it.
Which is why I advise it on a monthly, if not daily, basis!
Listen to the songs that made you smile when you were a kid, they'll probably make you smile twice as hard now you're an adult and know how crap the world is. Just let loose, cut loose, footloose! Have a sing-a-long and dance like no one's watching you, go to karaoke nights and wail like Avril Lavigne,just go crazy! At the end of the day no one will really care, you'll most likely put everone else in a stella mood as well! You're never gonna see these people ever again in your life, so what if they laugh at you?! And if they're your friends, then they'll join in too: in the words of Posh, Scary, Sporty, Ginger and Baby Spice 'Friendship Never Ends!' They'll love you no matter what!
So do it, go and find the first CD you ever bought, and take pleasure in knowing that Steps will always be there for you 'After The Love Has Gone'. You might as well face it, life was beter when you were eight.

Lesson #5

Never get involved in other people's problems.
It's just easier that way.
I mean this one with all sincerity, just stay away from other people's lives and their issues, stick to your own. It doesn't matter if you miss out on the latest gossip or are out of the loop, some things should just be left alone.
For instance, two of your best friends, lets call them Alice and Charlie, have been dating for a good three years. And they're perfect together. And they're perfect individuals. And everything is wonderful.
And then some guy, who's sorta your friend but mostly just a tag along, let's call him Adam, tells you that he's been cheating with her. For the past six months.
While it may be a well-known fact that Alice is a total flirt, you never thought she'd hurt Charlie like that. You never thought she'd go that far. You never thought she'd be that heartless.
What's worse is that before they started dating, you were practically in love with Charlie. Who is the most genuine and honest and incredibly pure person you will ever meet. You even tell Alice, who is undeniably your best friend, that you like Charlie. But she goes out with him regardless, and they fall in love all by themselves. And you know what, it doesn't even matter because they're both awesome friends and you're actually really happy for them, and you move on from Charlie and everything's fine for three years.
Then Adam drops this fucking huge bombshell, and nukes your entire perspective to shreds. Thanks Adam, you fucking wankshaft prick. Thanks a whole fucking lot.
So yeah, Adam and Alice have been fooling around behind Charlie's back for half the fucking year, until Alice decides that she made a mistake and doesn't want to jeapordise her relationship with Charlie (quite rightly so, might I point out) and tells Adam its over. Well done, girl!
But Adam, the basarding little knob, can't deal with that. He has to go and tell Charlie about their little arrangement. You spineless weed. Leaving poor Chaz broken. But he stays with Alice anyway, because he's a hopelessly romantic fool. Poor Charlie.
In the meantime, Adam off-loads his secret onto you. Neutral you. Switzerland you. Although, in the fight against two amazing, beautiful specimens of humanity versus an egotistical, obnoxious, vile little turd is it any wonder Switzerland finally caved? Didn't think so.
And now, Adam is threatening suicide if he doesn't get an apology from Alice for what she did to him. No, you're not missing a trick: What. She. Did. To. Him.
When he shouldn't have gone through with it in the first place. He's even friends with Charlie! And he can't handle the fact that he screwed up so badly, so he's blaming everyone else. Like a child. Like a vindictive, malicious, evil child. Like the love child of Tiger Woods and Satan.
So yeah, Adam tells you he's going to kill himself. Which you don't buy for a second; I mean firstly if you are gonna kill yourself, you wouldn't tell anyone, you'd just do it, and secondly he adores his family to the end of the world and back, he'd never do that to them. But the way he speaks about it, it's really scary, and you don't know what to do, what to say, how to react. On the one hand you're a minute away from ripping his head off and just bad-mouthing him to hell. On the other hand, you kinda feel sorry for him, in all fairness Alice has done a pretty shitty thing and she doesn't seem to be feeling the repurcussions of that.
And now you're in the middle of this shitfest, while you have a dozen othr problems that need fixing. And you feel 100% helpless. And so you turn to Blogger to find comfort and solace. And amazingly, you kinda do.
But seriously guys, try to avoid other people's issues, they belong to them for a reason, don't feel that you have to go meddling. And besides, your problems are just as bad as theirs, sort yourself out before venturing onto other people's lives. It's just easier that way.

Lesson #4

Avoid clicking the Next Blog >> button.
At all costs.
Seriously, I made the mistake the other day and it was absolutely horrendous!
Page after page after page of middle aged women bragging about their children and their husbands and their perfect, sub-urban, small-town American lives. With dozens of fake, cutesy photos plastered over the screen with repulsive tags like 'Jack learning to poo!' and 'Lucy in the bath!' Who fucking needs it?! Why am I going to want to read about your boring life when there are 17,000,000,000 other hits about it? Or look at your incredibly ugly kids sat on the loo? I have better things to do with my time!
And if it's not a blog about some loved up family in Austin, Texas, then it's a blog about how many miles some fella just ran at the weekend and his marathon aspirations! Or some jumped up lunatic selling home made pottery for 25p a mug... which has legs on it! Genuinely, what, the, fuck?
Are these people incapable of leading normal lives? Getting a job in an office? Or watching mindless TV for 4 hours on a Sunday afternoon? Are they that delusional that they think other people will take an interest in their sickly little lives? It actually baffles me, I can't fathom it at all!
Trust me, just read your own blog! It will be a much better way to waste half an hour than look at other peoples and try to figure out what drugs they're on! Save yourself the disappointment, don't click that button! AT ALL COSTS!

Lesson #3

Don't make a 'sad playlist' on your iTunes.
It's guaranteed to make you feel even crappier.
Maybe you innocently thought that compiling the likes of James Blunt's Goodbye My Love, Al Green's How Can You Mend A Broken Heart and Duffy's Warwick Avenue into one giant list of depression and misery was a good idea; one that would help you get over that dickhead. I'll tell you now, it's just not gonna do the trick.
Listening to James Morrison tell you that 'love is hard' won't make a blind bit of difference to your recovery rate, other than slow it down. You don't need other people to tell you how upset and crushed you're feeling, your brain's doing a pretty good job of that already, believe you me. And what's worse is that they're paid to feel hideously lonely and write about it. I'm not getting paid for feelng like shit, where's the justice in that?! I could easily write a song about regret and pain and suffering and heartache and all that crap... Though maybe I'm confusing song-writing with shed-destruction and titanic-watching.
Moral of the story is, chums, you'd feel garbage, lonely and insignificant even without the reminders from the Goo Goo Dolls. You'd cry regardless of their heartfelt lyrics and bittersweet melodies. Why give them the satisfaction!
In order to avoid feeling worse, don't make a 'sad' playlist' on your iTunes account, you're gonna feel crappy with or without it.

Lesson #2

Don't go shopping two days in a row.
It's really not good for your bank account.
I know it's specifically hard when you've just been given loads of money for your birthday and your Mum and sister are in the mood for retail therapy, and let's be honest you've had a pretty horrendous month, you need it too!
But you're wrong! Honestly, you are so wrong. So what if that dress surprisingly looks really good on you despite it being pink? So what if those tops are 2 for £12? So what if those shoes and that scarf are buy one get one free in Dorothy Perkins, limited time only? And so bloody what if you've just found a pair of jeans that fit you, I mean really fit you and are in the section Buy Me Now Or Lose Me Forever? SO. WHAT.
Why don't I ever listen to my own advice?
If you like your bank account and have a good friendly relationship with him, and if the cash machine doesn't resemble a torture device that dishes out punishments instead of crisp bank notes, then keep it that way!
Why succumb to the little niggling voice in your head? The one that only ever presents itself when you're alone in the changing room and only knows a certain few phrases: Wow, your legs look so slim!, Blimey, you can hardly see your tummy in that at all! and the worst one, Your bum definitely doesn't look big in that! Why, why, why?
You know you've got it bad when you start pulling out the uni card as well. 'But Edinburgh's cold, I'll need a new coat', 'My clothes aren't cool enough and I don't wanna be the reject with no friends specially before I've even started lectures', the list stretches on as far as the eye can see.
It's pathetic really. I have no job and desperately need to conserve as much money as possible for fresher's week, yet I find myself being dragged around town by my alter ego who lives to shop and needs to be locked away in the Spendaholics Anonymous Headqaurters. It's not pathetic, it's disgusting. I'm ashamed of myself, truly.
Oh well... I've already taken off the labels, it's too late for me now. But not you! Don't go shopping two days in a row! It's really not good for you bank account. Really. Not. Good.

Lesson #1

Never send angry text messages to your bastard of a boyfriend.
Especially when drunk.
Okay, so it might be fun to type out a graphically obscene text to the boy who just shagged you and then didn't speak to you for a good three weeks, but seriously; not one of my better ideas. Don't get me wrong, if this was How to live your life not giving a toss about social boundaries, saying what you want when you want, and generally giving 'em something to fucking talk about! then this would definitely feature!
Sure it's wonderful to call someone - and I quote - a fucking cowardly pathetic shithead knobbing cockweasel of a man, and yeah it's even better when you have a bonefide reason behind it, but trust me ladies, it will not end well!
If you've been dating someone for a while, and they appear to be a lovely bloke, then why not just leave it at that? If they're not talking to you it's probably because you told them you were going on holiday to Spain and they didn't want to waste their credit or minutes. And if you send that bloody text, they will avoid you indefinitely afterward, and with good cause might I add.
Unless of course, you really couldn't care less about them with their dick-fuckish ways and knob-shittish habits. If you really do want them to die sad, alone and miserable in a pile of their own shit surrounded by terminally diseased stray cats and rabid squirrells, then PLEASE be my guest! Lord knows how good it feels to vent your pent up anger and see your rage in Ariel font size 11 appear before your very eyes on a little screen in front of you. And yeah afterwards, you feel absolutely fantastic! (Though that might just be the 5 pints and bottle of vodka you just drained.) I was on the verge of driving to Buckingham Palace myself and requesting I be knighted, or at least given a medal for my services to my own self-respect!
Sadly, in the following days, I'd say about the point where you find yourself watching Calamity Jane, wishing Howard Keel was a good 70 years younger and crying onto the shoulders of your two favourite men Ben and Jerry, that's pretty much when the ecstasy wears off.
I'm doing this, girls, so you don't have to! Never send angry text messages to your bastard of a boyfriend. Especially when drunk.