‘Tis Open Season… Let The Fun Begin

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Dear fellow Readers,

Today I suggest that you get comfortable, pour yourself a long drink of something bubbly and quite expensive or better yet, get the bottle of open vodka from out of the crammed back of your freezer and slip a couple of ice cubes into a glass and start pouring.

Because ‘Tis Open Season and we are going to let the fun begin.

As you well and truly know that Semester One is over and done with that Semester Two has started and in case you have not realised, we are in the third week already. How time seems to fly when you least expect it and the daunting thought of exams, assignments and weekly quiz’s are beaming in front of your eyes like some tragic 70’s porno with cheap silk or rather satin sheets and tasteless music. That was before big boobs and fake stringy, blonde hair became fashionable along with the image of two collar bones greeting you like horizontal Chinese chopsticks.

Yum Cha anyone or Dim Sim?

But than like anyone else sitting back and watching the swarm of people rushing past like little ants, you do realise what Semester Two means. New subjects and new people. Cute, energetic, preppy little wannabe’s that Mummy and Daddy are paying for their tuition or those students that are struggling to work three jobs to pay for their textbooks and bills.

With Semester Two, this means that the work load of more insanity has doubled, books are now starting to stack more than a book shelf and had taken up residency in four shelves so far of my 16 cube book case. And the sad thought was having to spend over a thousand dollars so far on First Semester and facing the disturbing thought of next Semester if I do not have to do summer schooling. To which if I do, then I shall refuse to purchase a new book and the University will just simply have to get over it. And Studydesk being shit because no one simply understands: Get rid of last semester’s classes and just simply keep the ones that we are currently studying up.

It would make life so much more easier then having to scroll to the end of the Galaxy to even remotely think about getting near one of the Semester’s classes. And please let’s not talk about the format for this semester with how the Examiners’ have all planned it. I am certainly loving the double clicking of everything to remotely get near Fort Knox and their tight arse security. Mhm, just remembering reminds me of USQ and how my daily battle of finding something for a course is exactly that. A battle. Besides, if I ever require a sword to defend my honour against the horrible gremlins that run the site behind IT’s maintenance, then I will certainly know where to get one.

Bug, honey; can I please borrow a sword? Or better yet, go buy me a baseball bat because even though aim mught not be good, my swing is wicked.

But alas, I shall say a couple of words describing how I feel about this layout and are you ready? Do you think you can handle the truth? Here we go: It’s fucked.

There I said it and it is out in the air and no I cannot take it back. Are you offended? Oh well.

Also with a new semester that means new teachers and classmates. The daunting thought of walking into a class and scoping out to see if there is anyone previous but realising that someone has possibly decided on being an arsehole and has switched you around. No longer are you with the group that you are going to stand next too before grabbing each others hands and running into battle, knowing that your last and dying breath is all for one and one for all. Minus two people so far that seem friendly and do not possess three heads but rather one, therefore equally nice and I can later on seeing myself with them in future classes and getting excited to see them. I have been stuck with one group that I can honestly not handle: The Queen Bees.

I swear if it were not Uni and everyone could wear their own style of clothing which I must admit, have raised my eyebrows a couple of times but then I cannot call myself a fashionista. Mainly for the fact that I tend to wear the same things in the wardrobe department which are jeans, casual and comfy shirts with scarfs however the thought of my heels being stuck in the back of my closet, is making me upset. I cannot wait for summer and therefore if I do summer schooling and I am on campus for a subject; then those little booties or rather beauties are being pulled out and my feet are going to get a work out.

On that note, I should buy a pair of wedges so then I can wear them with my maxi skirts and long dresses and why not make or buy a cute little wreath that I can wear on my head since clearly I am going to be dying of the heat. And you know what that means my little darlings, I better start getting fit for summer so I can whip out that bikini. Or maybe stay away from the chocolate and stop mumbling about the increasing thought of getting more stretch marks and my clothes not being able to fit.

Besides I may be the one complaining of the apparent lack of attractiveness that I seem to be carrying around, but my boyfriend is certainly not saying anything nasty but is rather loving the fullness of chocolate eating has done to me lately.

Anyhow, it is not like my nursing degree at USQ has stipulated in their little welcome package, that when attending, the clothes we need to wear are Gucci Ballgowns with Manolo pumps and sparkling bling. Although I did walk past a girl yesterday and whose legs came up to my shoulder, was wearing a nice pair of heels which automatically made me feel frumpy and less elegant. But then what do you expect when you dress like a hobo with no fashion sense in someone else’s eyes and in yours: you look semi decent.

Some days I wish I had the closet that belongs to a fashion magazine, that doesn’t consist of size 0 or 2 as I have been there and I was certainly not pretty. So let’s pop in size 12, 13 (?) and 14’s and make it a pretty decent wardrobe full of all the things that I can possibly want, desire and dream of in my little head. But where was I, oh yes; everyone would have looked at the uniform given and adapted it too some horror story that has probably come out of Barbie or something.

Not that I am saying Barbie’s clothes are unattractive, but you do have to admit: She dresses like a slut three quarters of the time and I cannot understand why she ran off with Skipper and the Surfer guy? Maybe it was because Ken simply doesn’t have the man balls that she needed and was simply lacking in that department. Why the hell are we talking about action dolls and the thought of Ken popping into my head as G.I Joe on steroids?

Man I seriously need a break from my head and also from these thoughts as well.

Ticket for one please to end of the earth. First class.

So as you can probably tell, I am not a big fan of one of my classes but then I am thankful that I do have people that I know in the rest of them but I am starting to make good friends with one of the girls from the class that I was just talking about. But I am forgetting what Semester Two also brings and thought I would save it too last. Semester Two brings the most delicious thing that I have been hungry for most of the year..well that was after the fantasy bubble popped.

Semester Two brings….Veggies.

And no, not the vegetables that lay on your plate staring at you like you are about to spear them in the head with your fork and pop them into a dark and moist cave before the slaughtering begins. No, newbies. Fresh meat. Fresh man. Gorgeous little people that walk around in groups and make you want to throw yourself out a window when they sit there and say: “Like Omg! I so like can’t believe like my teacher is so like hot!” and the rest of the ten or so girls sit there and giggle.

Have contemplated even letting the lift get stuck on a couple of occasions but then the thought of someone else breathing important air and them talking..My OCD would have a field day and I would need to see a shrink for some serious advice on how to control this beast. Like the conversation I was having my Mother yesterday in the car on the way to uni and discovering that the idea or image of having sex in a public bathroom: A.) Grosses me out because I have no idea what germs could be lying around. B.) My brain automatically thinks that there could be a camera shoved up in some air vent, with someone attached to a phone or laptop watching and C.) If I was seriously going to have sex in a bathroom, then I would least do it in my own.

Therefore I knew it was well cleaned, no germs because I would have bleached the little bastards to death and the thought of my heel slipping off and my foot accidentally touching the floor or on someone’s condom because the lazy fucker didn’t bag…I think you get my drift. I am all for one of having kinky sex to a point and other people throughout the world exploring their inhibition and the thought of having a gag ball in your mouth turns you on; well good for you and you are brave but for me, having sex in a public bathroom is neither dirty nor kinky, you are just asking for herpes on your girly and man bits or possibly something else that has been smeared on the sink, toilet seat or up against the wall.

So after having ditched the thought of seeing a shrink for my OCD that tends to flair a lot and my little home away from home in the lift, I have been thinking about taking up residency under the staircase and join my good friend Harry or what the gang from Grey’s Anatomy do and go find some semi dead guy’s room and sit there for months at a time, eating lunch. But then the thought of running into one of the teachers that gives me an anxiety each time…moving along now.

Even my trusty and amazing library that was one filled with “normal” people is now being overtaken by those “like omg!” 17 years old and I am starting to get annoyed. Before you know it, I won’t be able to step foot into Subway because they will be there, talking about male teachers that I personally think have no idea that they exist and go home to their wives and kids. God, I living my teenage hood all over again except this time it is not some blonde stupid twit with a huge crush on our music teacher and secretly writing: Mrs Bon** but it is a group of 20 tweenies.

I despise being old and cynical about the newer and young generation Y, X, Z, whatever the hell their last initial is but they are frustrating the living shit out of me. I would rather go and have my eyelids pierced like that guy somewhere in the world that has 400 body piercings and 276 are on his testicles and penis. To which I have to admit that I have been thinking about since being told on the weekend, and how they hell would they even remotely find skin if it is covered in metal?

Does that make you want to get a piercing now?

Well I am off to watch the end of my episode before contemplating how I am going to get up to date with all of these modules. With that, wish me luck.

Until next time,

Cheers.

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