In which there is a distinct lack of actual jokes about chavs...
*zips suitcase shut with much huffing*
*sits on suitcase*
*bounces*
*falls off suitcase when the zip gives way and it explodes open*
I feel that British schools are failing to teach us an important life lesson: do not bounce on your suitcase, no matter how temptingly squidgy it is. It Will Not End Well. The sad thing is, the same thing happened to me in Oxford the last time I was up there for the interviews. I was trundling along with my much-bounced-on suitcase, and the zip gave way in the middle of the pavement. It shouldn't be possible for a person to get through a suitcase a year, should it?
I just thought I'd share, before picking up all my socks and starting again. Maybe if I use some of willow41z's duct tape...
My life has been sadly lacking in humour for a few weeks, (Unless you count the way I look in my sub fusc), and laughter has just been something I've thought about nostalgically from time to time.
Most of my recent conversations have followed this basic template:
RO: *stares at the TV in a zombie like trance*
LITTLE BROTHER: *waves hand in front of Ro's face*
RO: Leave me alone.
LITTLE BROTHER: But we're all very worried. You're watching The X Factor!
RO: And?
LITTLE BROTHER: *solemnly* And you're not making any jokes about chavs. What's wrong? Aren't you meant to be rea-
RO: No!
LITTLE BROTHER: What?
RO: We do not use The R Word. Ever.
LITTLE BROTHER: *smiling* Okay, no but seriously, what's wro-
RO: Ever!
LITTLE BROTHER: Oookay then. *backs away*
I might be worrying ever such a little bit about the essay that I'm going to have to write over freshers' week, because I seem to forget everything I've read the day after I've read it. Having managed about three and a half books though, (complete with detailed notes!), I decided to give up and a few days ago I discovered mindless-but-pleasantly-numbing-programming. Also known as Daytime TV. It was fabulous and shiny and full of annoying theme tunes and I decided that I was in love.
Happily for my sanity, my family staged an intervention and dragged me out to dinner and reminded me about the real world and how it's even better than daytime TV for fabulous and shiny and annoying theme tunes too. I'm now actually looking forward to freshers' week and meeting up with some old friends from school and some new facebook friends from my college, (though I'm still not looking forward to wearing sub fusc).
As for the upcoming essay...
LITTLE BROTHER: You're still not reading.
RO: I've decided that no one's going to do well on the first essay of term. I'm just going to have to accept failure philosophically and boost my ego by making chav jokes.
LITTLE BROTHER: I can see that you're feeling better.
RO: *happily* I think I'm growing as a person.
*sits on suitcase*
*bounces*
*falls off suitcase when the zip gives way and it explodes open*
I feel that British schools are failing to teach us an important life lesson: do not bounce on your suitcase, no matter how temptingly squidgy it is. It Will Not End Well. The sad thing is, the same thing happened to me in Oxford the last time I was up there for the interviews. I was trundling along with my much-bounced-on suitcase, and the zip gave way in the middle of the pavement. It shouldn't be possible for a person to get through a suitcase a year, should it?
I just thought I'd share, before picking up all my socks and starting again. Maybe if I use some of willow41z's duct tape...
My life has been sadly lacking in humour for a few weeks, (Unless you count the way I look in my sub fusc), and laughter has just been something I've thought about nostalgically from time to time.
Most of my recent conversations have followed this basic template:
RO: *stares at the TV in a zombie like trance*
LITTLE BROTHER: *waves hand in front of Ro's face*
RO: Leave me alone.
LITTLE BROTHER: But we're all very worried. You're watching The X Factor!
RO: And?
LITTLE BROTHER: *solemnly* And you're not making any jokes about chavs. What's wrong? Aren't you meant to be rea-
RO: No!
LITTLE BROTHER: What?
RO: We do not use The R Word. Ever.
LITTLE BROTHER: *smiling* Okay, no but seriously, what's wro-
RO: Ever!
LITTLE BROTHER: Oookay then. *backs away*
I might be worrying ever such a little bit about the essay that I'm going to have to write over freshers' week, because I seem to forget everything I've read the day after I've read it. Having managed about three and a half books though, (complete with detailed notes!), I decided to give up and a few days ago I discovered mindless-but-pleasantly-numbing-programming. Also known as Daytime TV. It was fabulous and shiny and full of annoying theme tunes and I decided that I was in love.
Happily for my sanity, my family staged an intervention and dragged me out to dinner and reminded me about the real world and how it's even better than daytime TV for fabulous and shiny and annoying theme tunes too. I'm now actually looking forward to freshers' week and meeting up with some old friends from school and some new facebook friends from my college, (though I'm still not looking forward to wearing sub fusc).
As for the upcoming essay...
LITTLE BROTHER: You're still not reading.
RO: I've decided that no one's going to do well on the first essay of term. I'm just going to have to accept failure philosophically and boost my ego by making chav jokes.
LITTLE BROTHER: I can see that you're feeling better.
RO: *happily* I think I'm growing as a person.