Hole In One.

"Relationship". It's a word that is thrown around so much today what with our being able to put it online and then cancel it as easily as getting a refund the minute it gets 'old news'. Chatting to a friend last night she said "I think I'm going to try dating" as if it was a massive revelation that no one had considered before, but her tone did hold some weight - nobody actually does it, there's no journey anymore. Nobody just goes out for dinner, or cocktails, or the movies or whatever just to get to know each other without consuming copious amounts of alcohol and having a cheeky grope on the dance floor (as fun as it is, I've gotten to that stage where I've started wearing kirbie grips in my hair just to stab at whoever's wandering hand that thinks it doesn't have to work for it). But this can lead on to the rest of your life faster than it takes to buy a drink! One minute you're hooking up in a club, next you're meeting the parents via video-call. What ever happened to pace, guys? Admittedly, dating probably wouldn't suit me as the whole rules on sleeping together (first date, third date, fifth date, wedding day blah blah blaaaah) would confuse, and probbaly restrict, me and undoubtedly lead to too much drama that comes when british people sleep together 'Must NOT talk about my emotions...must NOT betray enjoyment...must NOT ask where this is going' yadda yadda yadda. Obviously it's more men that torment themselves with this train of thought - they do tend to have very fragile hearts! My man now (a year on) talks about how stressful the first few months of our sleeping together was as he was in love with me from the word go and didn't have a "fucking clue how to deal with it". Course, I just thought we were sleeping together...ish. My point is the modern-day man can easily be more fragile than us modern valkyrie-type, condom-toting girls.

However it wasn't until last night when I realised quite HOW fragile they can be! I was chatting away to a pal who's in his mid-20s and has never ever had a relationship that has lasted over 2 months - now that is quite a feat in 8 years of being sexually active, right? He was harping on about never wanting a woman and definitely never EVER god-forbid-would-rather-die-first needing a woman. He was giving the big macho chat about independence (yeah that's all fine til you want breakfast in bed) and casual sex (even though his magic number has minimal strings attached) which makes every man the most unattractive bloke alive - fine if you feel that way, just don't write it on your forehead? It means the likelihood of our sleeping together is minimal due to his moaning - probably never dated because women find it like looking into a mirror that talks back, over you, or any other way

. Anyway it suddenly hit me that he was just being a freaking pussy - that he was shit scared of women! I told him to grow some balls and actually open up to someone, he answered by starting a conversation about his two rather large (apparently) balls and, in my head, I wished him luck- he's going to be hard pushed to find a girl willing to engage in lengthy conversations about his genitals. Boys, stop being so egotistical, they might not all look the same, or be the same size or colour but they have the same goal, and, depending on who you are, there are things out there that do the job better than you lot without the backchat- and they ARE all the same size, shape and colour.

Simply because I can..

I've just copied and pasted the column today because although it would make more sense on paper this guy bugged me a lot today so the more space I fill up with his name next to a negative anecdote the happier I am!

I had a very awkward situation to warn you of today (University is a perilous place - I asked a girl who she was and she replied "We sat next to each other in tutorials for the whole of first year". I tried to pull it off as an innocent mistake) but instead I am going to rant about some "Josh Lee" who has been making smart-arse comments to me on facebook all day through some public English students group and generally barging his way into my stream of consciousness - not a good idea when I am a tired, hungry student with a column. All I did was ask everyone if the lectures this year are being recorded and put on WebCT (or myaberdeen or some other dusty, unused corner in cyberspace that Aberdeen latches onto to make it seem more accessible to the 'youth of today' - if it's not somewhere we can brag about our lifestyles, we don't care. You're more likely to have success on bebo, which is saying something for sure). Anyway, this Josh bloke makes a completely useless comment by noting that if I'd been there this morning I would have known.

Oh my, what WONDERFUL words of wisdom from my fellow teenager - to think if I'd gone to the lecture I would have known the content? What an incredible thought! Please allow me to lick your shoes and get your inspiring knowledge tattoed across my own forehead backwards so that I can read it in the miror!

Seriously - no duhr! What a waste of my time in reading and responding; if you're going to make a joke make it funny, original and preferably self-depracating. You, on the other hand, made yourself seem like a friendless prick who hasn't seen daylight since WWII and who's weapon of choice in his arduous daily battles is his iphone.

Baby, you can try and get me from your own one-size-fits-all hole in cyberspace, but I've got the power of the printed word. So unless your iphone has a physical cell to contain me in...bite me - or, in your case, *bite me*.

Testing the waters

It's certainly been a while since I last wrote but I do have the excuse of being awfully, terribly, horrendously busy! I've moved into the flat for university but in a moment of fever decided to be a fantastic family member and loving girlfriend and travelled up and down to home more times than I care to remember. Saying that, though, the free food was definitely worth it. Got a text from my mother the first time I went down saying: "Just because you haven't told me you're about doesn't mean I don't know - my bloody cupboards are empty!" She sent warning signals out to the rest of the family before I could get there, if my aunt could have legally branded kitchen knives at me to protect her food supply I'm sure she would have. In all fairness I did get sent away with a packed lunch for the bus -I'm surprised I didn't get a 'good riddance' note with it.

In other news this blog has landed me a column in the student newspaper! Surprised I wangled it after telling the editor his newspaper was 'shit with no sex appeal', maybe it's my job to jazz it up although probably not as much as they were hoping - my first one was filled with "****"s and all sorts. 

I'm totally knackered as I've been massively enjoying freshers week and working and blah blah blah and the funniest thing that happened to me all week was when I got high and made up a pet white elephant whilst my friend was trying to do psycho-analysis tests on me which resulted in him getting a fit of giggles and my wondering about the way my brain (doesn't) work. But apparently I see myself as "bold, sexy and classic"
"Yeah, bold enough to tell you you aint getting laid tonight, baby."

Don't try and sexually manipulate a girl with a white elephant - she'll trample all over that shit.

Tree trunks and dead wood.

My creative juices have been refuesing to flow in the last few days, probably because all I do at work now is sit and stare at a computer screen as I've finished my assignment but didn't tell anyone because I desperately didn't want to be the office scanning bitch. Thankfully more work came through. And when I say thankfully I don't mean thank god for the work, I mean thank god for keeping my hands busy so I dont attempt to staple my eye balls in a bid to feel!
Feeling..there's been a distinct lack of it recently! I had a bit of a midlife crisis the other day (a few decades early but what the heck, I can pull them off in my work clothes) and decided that life is shit, work is shit, plans are shit, my course is shit, everything's shit. This was all voiced at my friend during lunch and he proceeded to answer "Well...my bagel's not shit - do you want some of that?"
Sorry what? I'm talking about dropping out of uni, fucking off to Vietnam or Chernobyl to pick up some radioactive disease that will make my life slightly more interesting and your solution to that is pesto?! You're practically making me a packed lunch to go with my failure! You're telling me that the best thing in my life is green Italian substance in a jar, and you're rubbing salt in the wound by reminding me pretty much everything else has done more travelling than me this summer. In an bid to save his bagel from assasination-by-water
 he managed to wing a shpeel about "joie de vivre", and our need for it. So good was his spontaneous speech about 'living life to the full' and 'we could be dead tomorrow' the medic somehow managed to persuade me to cycle with him across Europe next year. I blindly agreed and then stopped dead five minutes later half way through a conversation about financing it with "Wait, will I get big thighs?" please no please no please no please no plea-
"Yeah, they'll probably get about 40% bigger." hey look at that, cold sweats...find solution find solution find - aha!
"Cool, well when I said bike, you know I meant motorbike, right?"
"You're such a woman."

No freaking duhr! After moments of clarity like this I honestly don't understand how men and women swap sentences on a daily basis let alone form relationships. During the brief exchanges above you can blatantly see near fatal miscommunications going on - I want to change my life and my friend is offering me carbs or thunder thighs? Do you not know usat all? How many of you coerce women into relationships I shall never understand..I'm assuming many of them have been flown over from Thailand..

But thankfully I'm getting written a programme by my personal training man and he promises he won't give me thunder thighs. We shook on it: "If I do, you're never getting them wrapped round you again. Ever. Hear me?"
Not that this is really an issue seeing as there are months in the year when there is to be no leg-wrapping activites due to his being an athlete. He looked in horror when I suggested injecting some testosterone...look, do you want to play by the law or do you wanna keep me?
Anyway, it's one of the 'fasts' or 'bans' at the moment and so his coach's mantra is "Women make the legs weak" (apparently the man can always tell) , and I think I'm starting to go a bit mad from a lack of having weak legs. I'm so highly strung that when I asked him where we were going tonight and he replied "Bar, club, pub, whatever, I don't know." I managed to freak out at the fact I didn't know what  to wear because they all have such different vibes/moods/lighting.. Naturally, this was not metwith understanding, although he did concede to give me prior warning before we head off -the fact that I may have suggested prolonging the ban after competition season surely helped, it was certainly not compassion for my womanly craziness. "You're all crazy, sure you're not the craziest I know but when you have your moments...you're just scary."

Once again, well done Sherlock, have a congratulatory blowjob. Oh wait...

I've just pulled through a mid life crisis and all I want to do is celebrate my new found joy/substance/love for life..
Good luck relationship.

"It's a desert landscape, duhr!"

So as hopefully more than a few know, last night was the end of the Fringe fireworks show which involved, for anyone with a sense of duty, a lot of alcohol, merriment and wet grass. I wasn't originally intending to go, the plan was to trekk in to slap a very good friend of mine silly out of his emotions - I would have thought with his being a boy this would never happen - and then go home for a good night's sleep and positively leap out of bed at 7am for work.
Well, none of the above happened. My boy had already been slapped silly and, after moving through the stages of grief concerning his finished relationship faster than he can justify another round to everybody present, we headed off to his family's flat to watch the fireworks with bottles of wine in hand. Unfortunately, his brother had just moved into the flat and, if I can give you one word of advice, don't wake up a nurse after a long and arduous night shift by yelling at his door to open up - they don't appreciate it, if looks could kill he would have been giving CPR within a second flat of us bursting through his door. So back we trekked to the links where my friend had to try to persuade me to sit on the grass for five minutes, and we eventually compromised by my on the plastic bags after I attempted to coerce him into sacrificing some minor comforts for me: "No, girl, you are NOT taking my clothes off to sit on."
During this time the others had arrived with the corkscrew and muffins we had cleverly forgotten and already started delving into the red. And it was a wonderful night - the radio was playing the accompanying music and giving analysis of the fireworks which I attempted to relay to everybody sitting in Bruntsfield Links, we warmed our bellies and destroyed our livers with cheap red wine and simply let the world go by - something I had genuinely forgotten how to do! Obviously, the solution was to drink until your thought process slows down or stops entirely. Then we managed to look like the poshest yobs in Edinburgh by prancing down through the meadows drinking wine out of real wine glasses yelling - an attempt at singing - Tchaikovsky to the late evening air.
Meeting up with the other half of the group was slightly awkward as there were two recently broken couples brought together by our joining that were painfully attempting to avoid each other and so I joined a long list of martyrs to aid this situation - I took on the mantle of the village idiot. Skipping down the grassmarket with a traffic cone on my head I passed two woman who said, and I quote, "Dear oh dear - students." It made my night, for sure. Next was the task to sneak my cone into the pub which involved hiding it just inside the doors to scan out the place for security/sober people and then wrap my jacket around it, cradle it, and pelt through to the back. Unfortunately, my new friend had to be left behind at the pub as I decided (slightly tipsy) that I didn't have enough money to pay for its train fare home.

Pretty much if any awkward sitation arises head for the nearest roadworks. Might not work for them but it'll sure as hell work for you.