BELLONA'S BLOG

Bellona

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Friday, November 16, 2007

Hey, it's been a while since my last post. I guess that's down to the whole moving out of the parental home to go live on the other side of the country thing. I moved to sunny Glasvegas for the university (woot!), I stayed for the drink. Among other things. Since moving to Glasgow I have...

...run around the Merchant City dressed as a fairy; gone on a drink'n'drug (cheapy cider shots and paracetamol) fuelled cruise with my Irish flatmate and a bunch of his friends (most of whom I couldn't recognise the next morning, and still can't!); become addicted to cheese toasties and Sainsbury's Basics spaghetti in a can; become vaguely uncomfortable about the amount of carb-based weight I've put on and will probably continue to gain; discovered I have a teeny tiny lung capacity of only 2.9 litres (worse than my asthmatic brother); added several new words and phrases to my day-to-day vocabulary (bouish, copious amounts, aww really, sexual, the boi, friggin); become a fan of Dr John Smylie (physical chemistry lecturer - the utter boi!); rediscovered my love of Ribena; become a Student Rep and therefore helped save an entire course from being cancelled to new intakes; been told I need to keep my fixed braces in for another year and then I can get a retainer, making me a twenty-year-old with a thirteen-year-old's mouth; realised I am in no way ready to turn 19; worked very little on my fanfic (three years in the making!); learned how to dance properly (and by that I mean how to dance in a club); visited my first nightclub; saw Vanilla Ice live for an entire three minutes (so loud you couldn't hear anything other than the word "ninja"); dressed as a schoolgirl, the aforementioned fairy and a beach babe; worn shorts in public for the first time in a decade; had my shoulder licked for beer; been woken up at 6am for a fire alarm with an actual fire which later turned out to be an entire fire extinguisher let off in a kitchen; run around shrieking in the dark with a pole-wielding Irishman; proved that I am a terrible cook; worn a lab coat; kissed a christmas tree-turned-surfer dude; worn skinny jeans; run out of socks and pants many many many times because I have no change for the laundry room; become a shopping addict but consistently managed to have no less than £500 in my bank account at any one time (it's a miracle!); decided that watching movies until 3am when you have to get up at 7 to go to work for 8 hours is a great idea; started up a three-person conga line in a supermarket.

Oh yes, and I got engaged. Blah blah, 18, too young, no idea what I want. But we're having a looooooooooooooong engagement (between 4 and 6 years, maybe more if I do a PhD) so we have time to be completely sure. Heh, it's funny. This time last year I was quaking in my miniscule boots about meeting his parents. Now I'm absolutely pooping my cotton panties about telling his parents I'm marrying their only son.

b

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