Studying…The Act of Dying Repeatedly.

Dear beloved readers,

We have all gathered here today to read the final testament of Scarlett O’Chunky. Who was of sound mind when she proceeded to write this however steadily began to lose her mind over the following hours until she decided it was time.  Unless anyone has any objections, please remain seated until the reading of the will has been finished and please refrain from asking any questions until the end also. So, we shall begin.

I, Scarlett O’Chunky declare this to be my last will and testament and that I hereby revoke, annul and cancel all wills and codicils that have been previously made by yours truly, either jointly and severally. I also declare that I am of legal age to consume copious amount of alcohol…er, of legal age to make this will and that I am still sound of mind. And not necessarily crazy just as yet. This last will shall express my wishes without undue influence of said alcohol or some relatively strong concoction that I have thrown together and slapped it up with a side order of five olives or of any duress.

I am married to my university degree of Nursing at one of the top universities of Queensland and cannot forget my accumulating debt of 60,000 plus dollars. And that by the time I finish this degree, it shall have no doubt doubled with these fluctuations that are occurring but that is not the point. I hereby refer to my degree as my spouse, who unfortunately does not keep me warm at night. But rather instead decides to keep me awake at night with nightmares of failing assignments, having to sit exams. In the nude. While wondering constantly to myself am I ever going to become like Madonna’s song of where she was like a virgin as she made it through and through. Bitch.

As I clearly have not made it through the wilderness as yet, I would like to mention my husband, Degree and I’s children as stated below:

  1. Nigel No Friends, born on the 21st February 2014 at 8.59 am.
  2. Accumulated Debt, born 26th January 2013 at 12.00 am (midnight)
  3. I Passed Clinicals, born 06th June 2014 at 11.30 pm.
  4. Exam Time Bitches, born 07th June 2014 at 8.30 am 
  5. Exams Are Over Bitches, born 07th June 2014 at 8.30 am, deceased 14th June 2014 at 10.45 am
  6. Wee Woo, born 22 February 2009 at 11.30 am

 I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Lois O’Chunky as Executor of my martini making and olive eating feast. If this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint Lady Blacksnot to alternative Executor in making martinis and marinating in the deliciousness of gin and vermouth. With the accumulated amount of debt that I have possessed within the last two or so years while studying, I request that any outstanding amount (60,000+) is to be given back to the government with a relatively descriptive letter attached telling them where to stick their 9% interest payments instead of the 6%, all thanks to the new 2014/15 budget, up where they think it is fits best.

As I have minimal taxes to be paid for now until I am working in a 30 something bay hospital, I wish to advise that my taxes have been paid and will need to be done so for this financial year. Hopefully getting enough back in return so then I can laugh with glee rather than curling into a ball and crying like an idiot. Thus allowing my heirs of my relatively small and meagre fortunate of a university student to live quite happily until having to buy textbooks for next semester. In regards to next semester, I wish for my body to be put under copious amount of stress eventually leading me to break down into tears, tear my hair out from said stress and idiots who are self absorbed, the decency of kind strangers helping to pick up a textbook and the occasional wink from some hot guy.

To my mother, Lois O’Chunky, I bequeath five (5%) Percent should she survive me, otherwise she can just have my martini’s that I have already made and the soon to be extended amount that is yet to follow. Otherwise the share of Lois O’Chunky shall pass instead to her lawman, Lady Blacksnot should she out survive Lois O’Chunky and myself. However, I don’t see that happening but still; martini’s are on LBS!

I, Scarlett O’Chunky, the tester, sign my name to this instrument of a somewhat laughable but serious will on the 13th June 2014 at 10.01 am. And I declare that I am sober and of sound mind while willingly to do so.

S. O’Chunky.


Now does anyone object?

Good didn’t think so and shall we continue onwards with this delightful little diddy.

The act of dying repeatedly.

Having decided to take a random and soon to be one of many breaks for today, while stu[dying] the large amount for my exam with the hope of my brain being able to retain the information. Which is really code for: I am slowly starting to procrastinate and have decided to write this blog post while I am meant to be studying because my caffeine level has dropped dramatically. I can feel Lois standing near my shoulder, peering at the back of my head with annoyance as I write this. Only because in my head all I hear is: “You should be studying Scarlett, not googling images or writing your blog. Get back to study!”

Lois, I’m just asking for another five minutes. Five more minutes for me to gaze around, block out some conversation about something to do with X box games (yawn!) and decide if I really need to find a coffee vending machine and pump my veins full of coffee. And since you love me heapies, I’m taking the five minutes.

If you didn’t notice, I am actually writing this part of the blog on a Friday rather than speeding through it and trying to upload before the clock strikes midnight on a Sunday night. With that comes the depressing thought of it being Friday. As unlike most people who are counting down the hours until they can hit the closet bar within walking distance from their office for a little ‘liquid lunch’, I am counting down the hours like some sad, depressed emo. Minus the black on black on black attire they seem to favour.

Pop that Bubbly, Bitches!

However what feels like many months ago, I would have been counting down the hours until I could casually stroll (power walk) out of my last class for the day like someone had lit my arse on fire. It was the knowledge that a corona was calling out my name but also the city at night, even though beautiful, freaked me the fuck out. And cue the frequent nightmare of being held at knife point and being robbed.

And like most normal single people, Friday represents one thing. Apart from the fact that University is over for the week and that it will be arriving shortly in two days, man don’t ruin the fun with that shit. No, Friday means dressing up in our sluttiest outfits, slapping on some much make up that we are cooking pancakes on our faces and we go and find the best looking Bogan for the night. Score! That doesn’t involve me though because we already know I am slutty enough with my attitude and random comments about how amazing it would be to have a little fun on the kitchen bench, Geisha balls with LBS. And I wear makeup as wherever I go, I leave a red stain on those who I kiss.

Let’s all queue the hash tag of: #ScarlettsAWhore.

Many months ago, a Friday used to entail dinner either being cooked by LBS or myself. Which surprisingly I discovered that amongst the joke of not being able to cook and it leading to the evaluation of the house being burnt down, LBS can actually cook. Now this is often followed by the thought as an advert of some lady is face diving into a pile of goo for her face, of ‘I need cake. Lots and lots of cake’. Which leads to LBS and I getting in the car, driving ten minutes down the road and getting cake because the thought of making a cake with an oven that is so strung out, it is contemplating suicide.

However if I had brought cake or donuts from BreadTop while racing through the city to catch my bus back to my bed or wondering what everyone wanted for their birthday, I would eventually come home to collapse on the couch with my dinner in my hand. And lo and behold, a bottle of corona glistening on the arm chair, lemon or lime bobbing away as I watch the golden bubbles come up with the top as I rock the glass bottle back and forth. And to top it off, sending a delicious snap chat the The Sheriff, wishing him a happy start to the weekend. Who also funnily enough had a corona as well and all I can say is, the man certainly knows a good drink when he sees one. 

What a funny coincidence Deirdre Chambers. 

Now as my first semester comes to a close for my second year of University, we all know what normally comes with it. Yes. Exams! Oh the vile and disgusting things that are necessary however feel like they are slotted between clinicals, beauty time to make yourself look (not necessarily feel) like a person and not a zombie. And the waving, glistening and tantalising thought of a month long holiday from university…cue the sighs from those who attend Uni. But before we can indulge in the thought of spending two days straight in a pyjamas with the excuse of ‘my clothes are dirty’, our examiners are sitting here in their offices, rubbing their hands in glee at the build of anticipation (not so much ours) of exams.

Kill me now!

This may be me…

Since it is the final week of exams for me, which happens to fall on a Saturday (that being tomorrow), I find myself studying away on campus. Now normally when I am in F block, I am almost at the point of stripping off my clothes because it is so hot while wondering if the air con is actually turned on or working. Today someone must have sensed that I was coming and decided as a parting farewells, they would hit the extremely cold, ball numbing, holy shit my tits have frozen solid and ‘Hi my name is Frosty The Snowman’ button.

And because I am paranoid, the guy across from me must have been getting a kick out of seeing me grab hold of my boobs and stare down at them. As a result the few times that I have looked up from staring straight down my bra, while thinking what a lucky bitch I am to have a decent looking cleavage has made me raise a bitch brow in his direction. Because his tongue is approximately five seconds from failing out of his open mouth and his eyeballs have opened so wide that I swear I can almost seen the back of his eye sockets.

Now if I was a horny bitch, which clearly I am not because it is all about study, study, study..hang on let me pause for a moment to laugh hysterically. Moment over. So I as I was saying if I was a horny bitch, I could have led him on by licking my bottom lip and move my thumb back and forth. But I am not in the mood to be a cock tease so I let him leave and haven’t given him another thought.

Random moment for interlude: just spotted someone with coffee. And might I say the coffee is looking pretty tasty from where I am sitting and it is making my mouth water. So would it be considered impolite to go up and say, “can I smell your coffee so then I can kick my system to start again” or stalkerish almost borderline creepy? I’ll leave that ball in your court for now and let you ponder away on that little question.

For my fellow sidekicks who are following in my footsteps with exams and textbooks being permanently glued to our hands, our last exam for this semester is tomorrow. Thank God Its Friday! Just kidding! Knowing us, we are sitting here moaning, quietly complaining to ourselves about why we decided to hit the higher education level before realising it was torture. Than muttering to ourselves, “shit have we studied enough? Will my brain actually obtain this information that I have been studying for the last three weeks. OMG! What if it isn’t enough and I go there and next minute, my clothes disappear?”

Oh-kay pyscho, calm it down….*giggles nervously*. 

I’m coming Gotham City…

Who the fuck am I kidding since we could have guessed who that was directed at. Hang on and let me just let out a sigh before raising my hand like I am all gangsta before breaking out into singing Jimmy Fallon style:  

I’m so fancy
You already know
I’m in the fast lane
From L.A. to Tokyo
Doesn’t help when I am listening to my fellow gangsta IGGY singing about being so fancy because I can totally relate. *Rolls eyes*. But that was a minute ago and now I am listening to Rihanna singing about dollar signs while looking at photos of Batman, who is somehow supposed to represent my inner thoughts and feelings at the moment. Or better yet, maybe when I go into my exam tomorrow morning after inhaling coffee and disconnecting myself from my Coffee IV drip at 8.20 am, I am going to be mentally dressed up as Batman. And my quote is going to be: I am Batman. Hear me flap (my wings?). I need to save Gotham City by knowing how excessive bleeding and vomiting can affect the Gastrointestinal Tract.
Yes I know it is a mouthful and a half for that quote, but I am going to carry it through tomorrow when I sit for my exam. Because, I can so totally do this and for that, I am going to fist bump the air like I just don’t care.
No comment.

Now for those who haven’t sat their exams and are looking at the daunting thought of doing so, let Scarlett let you in on a little secret.


Yes simple as that my friend. Coffee.

For those who have just started their first semester at university anywhere in the world and haven’t realised the benefits of coffee in the morning, you are missing out on life. I suggest getting a clean mug, pop some magical beans into the mug, adding some milk
because burnt coffee tastes like arse, add some hot water and sugar if you want; stir, stir and stir some more and take a sip. Now I know you are going think that this tastes like arse and why am I getting you to drink this but trust me, it will keep you alive and awake in exams. And they allow it in some exams…hopefully.

If not claim it as water with extra health benefits impacted into the water so then it can boost your immune system as you can classify that you find that this water helps with concentration levels. And that it might revitalise those important aspects….blah blah, you get the drift.

Well they should allow it in exams because who the hell decides on having an exam at 8.30 in the morning. Oh wait, my amazing examiner did especially after finishing the clinicals the night last Saturday. That is after I spent ten minutes deciding if I should just stay awake for the rest of the night until the morning and energise myself with a trillion cups of coffee. Or if I should hit the sack, completely forgetting about studying some more and claim illness to one’s self before boarding an express train to hopefully reach the city before 8 am. Wrong, I boarded the train that would stop at every station from where I was to bloody Timbuktu. My motto for that day was FML!

So I decided to risk the look of being beautiful and claiming to be incredibly smart that pft, I don’t need to study, when I crammed my tired and cold little body into a comfortable position in bed with my notebook containing my notes and proceeded to read. Until I woke up thinking what time was it, only to discover I had overslept my alarm by five minutes. 

FML indeed.

However if it had been a lecture, I would just promptly rolled over and ignored the stupid alarm going off. Before reaching out a hand and smacking the shit out of it while grumbling about how rude some people/things can be as I was trying to get some sleep. But since it was an exam and I like the idea of my debt being paid off legally and not having to resort to selling myself for 500 bucks (much to the horror of my Aunt because I was now deemed a ‘whore’); I forced my body out of bed and headed for my life support. Coffee. While forcefully reminding myself that I love being educated repeatedly before clicking my booted heels together and saying out loud: There is no place like uni. There is no place like uni.

And poof, I am back in Kansas, Toto. Or in my case, Brisbane and soon to be The White House.

Since I am in the mood to watch a Bond movie but unfortunately do not have any Pierce on me at the moment….what hold on a minute. Pierce Brosnan is your favourite Bond character? WTF? So anyway, I am going to have to borrow a title from a movie and say “To Die Another Day”. Yes, my little cherubs who haven’t died from hysterical laughter (I am hoping) or have decided to piss off because you grew bored of reading this, it is I. Your one and only mental case, who can now sit here and officially tell you all that I have sat my last exam for my first semester of year 2.

My school uniform….

And even though that we were meant to wear our school uniform today as it was compulsory, my Mommy didn’t wash it for me. So I was forced to wear my jeans, boots and sweater along with my glasses because I am starting to become blind and need them more often now. Although, I did notice that the other students weren’t wearing their uniforms and had opted to wear normal clothing which looked similar to what I was wearing. So with that, I am thankful that I didn’t turn up in my school uniform complete with amazing knee high socks and itty little backpack that can only hold a tooth pick but looks totes amaze-balls.

I feel as if I have done the best that I could have done on my exam and feel confident that the decision of returning back to continue on with my study after having considered heavily of whether or not to pull out for a semester and re-evaluate my life and goals, has been the best decision I have made. To say the least, the last four months have been the hardest is clearly an understatement. And I don’t know how I have been able to remain sane and not locked away in a padded cell. What set this is stone was being told that I had passed my clinicals with flying colours and a few other things that my Facilitator mentioned which of course opened the flood gates. Which had been closed for many months and openly admitted to someone else that I was frightened of giving up and not being able to pick it back again and that I had planned on quitting. Quitting uni, my dreams, hopes and ambitions and also myself.

To say the least, I have managed to survive. 

I survived the death of The Godfather within the first week of uni. I survived the thought of having to put him to rest and wonder how I was shaping up. I survived the constant self doubt that I am cloaking myself in because I secretly don’t think I can do this. I survived because I am Peter’s Granddaughter and I am stubborn enough to continue on through the hardship of not understanding what I want. I survived nearly losing a friendship because of a comment or rather, a feeling that had been taken in the wrong way and instead of being adults, we decided to pretend everything was okay and talk to someone else. To which, I vow that shit will be sorted out as I am tired of it. 

I survived LBS’ deadly bottle of wine that made me drunk. Which had me using the wall as support, giggling like a complete idiot, having a conversation to myself about myself, contemplating how I could tie someone up without them actually noticing (I think the giggling would have been a dead giveaway) and crawling around in my undies and knee highs. Because I admit that I am a classy bitch when it comes to knee highs and being drunk. 

And if it hadn’t been the evidence stashed away on my phone, I would have thought that I had dreamt of it all. Until reality settled in and I realised as I started to go back through the texts, exactly what might have happened the night before, the ‘oh shit…did I text Sheriff?’ and how I was going to back pedal out of that one. Before giving up and crawling into bed with LBS after wishing Maverick a very Happy Mother’s Day on behalf of Goose.

But overall, I survived myself.

With admitting that to not only myself but also for everyone who is going to be reading this, or is currently reading this, it is time to throw our hands up in the air. With excitement of course because this semester is over along with the pent up aggression that I am currently sporting and with that, comes the knowledge that next semester is a brand new semester. That means I need to focus a little bit more on my study, actually ask for help this time rather than pretending my name is Einstein. But before I do that, I am going to take a month off from focusing on that, enjoy the freedom I have for the mean time and give my parent’s television a good work out as I have missed the tellie like you wouldn’t believe it.

And I hate to admit it but I am seriously wondering what it would be like to sit down in front it for three hours, without having to think about all my assignments have been or needing to be completed along with my tutorial readings. And to walk around the house in my pyjama’s all day is sounding like bliss and to be close to my family, enough to yell out to Lois “KAKAKAKAKA” since Frodo isn’t here to do it; I am counting down the hours.

Anyway, thank fuck for holidays! 

Throw your hands up in the air because the semester is over!
Until next time,
Cheers xo

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