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!