Premature aging

I may be only twenty years old but sometimes I look around me and think "I am way too old for this shit". I see people going out, getting trashed, making out with at least three people and stumbling home at 5am before waking up at midday with a dreaful hangover. Call me boring but I'd much rather go out for an enormous dinner, go to a gallery/ fashion launch or head out for a couple of quiet cocktails and be in bed by midnight. I value my sleep too much plus my immune system sucks so I get sick all the time. I don't quite understand the culture of going out until the wee hours of the morning and drinking until you can no longer stand. I don't know about everyone else but I don't want photos appearing of me the next day where I'm sandwiched between a snookie lookalike and a maori tribesman or of me lying on the street in a pool of my own vomit. I'd rather go home looking similar to what I looked like when I left the house rather than missing a shoe and with mascara running down my face.
Occassionally I feel as though I'm getting old before my time but then I remind myself that there's no point in forcing myself to do something that will make me feel stupid or less like me. But you know, if you like to go out till six in the morning then that's fine! Be yourself! I am :)

Cinderella didn’t lose her glass slipper waiting in line

Yesterday I had the delightful experience of lining up for a university ball. This one in particular was the Melbourne University commerce ball, which I attended last year but skipped the line up. This line up goes for around 26 hours and 33 minutes ish. Basically, tickets go on sale on the Monday morning and there are 75 tables to be snapped up so all these people begin lining up in the wee hours of Sunday morning to camp out in the hopes of going to the ball. My group of friends were luckily enough to get the 11th spot in the line, with dreams that next year they’ll be number one.


I arrived at a casual 4:00 in the afternoon to meet two of my friends who were on their shift. It literally looked like a campsite....minus the grass. People had tents, speakers and fold out chairs to go with the large amount of beer they were consuming. My friends, however, had set up camp with none of these things...just chips. Whoever said girls don’t eat clearly hasn’t met my friends and I. So while we sat around, I brought out the bible AKA Cosmopolitan magazine. I literally think you can learn how to have sex just by reading that magazine. Some of my favourite quotes include “Is it weird if I squirt liquid from my vagina when I orgasm?” and “be a pants-down winner between the sheets”. Thanks to Cosmo, many things have been opened: many magazines, the world of sex and lots of women’s legs. Love it.

As loud as us girls are, it was inevitable that a nearby boy would become engrossed in our conversations on how to make sure your man arrives second and why guys are attracted to skanks. Before I could even finish my sentence asking this boy if he wanted to borrow our magazine, he had already let out a squeal of a yes and snatched it from my outstretched hand. Eager beaver.

We then started telling drunk stories...generally about my lovely friend Anna. This girl is a veteran of the line and decided she would drink when she did it last year. This resulted in her stacking it multiple times and just being generally a class act. My favourite part of the reminiscing of this story was when the random boys sitting near us starting adding to the story, saying they remember these incidents happening last year and more. I think that’s when you realise it’s gone too far, when a random stranger you’ve never seen remembers you from a whole year ago. I’ve never been so proud.

I’ve also discovered my humour consists of sarcasm and throwing in the odd “your dad didn’t think so last night when I was in his bed” joke after someone insults me. Is that what I’ve become? I myself find these jokes hilarious, but only secretly snigger on the inside while tumble weeds roll past as the sound of crickets rings in my ears.

As immature as my sense of humour is, I can’t ignore the fact that today I’m still in my pj’s sniffling and chowing down on vitamin c. How is it that I get an intense cold from staying outside in the cold for four hours? My other friends weren’t wearing nearly as much clothing as me AND they were staying overnight yet I seem to be the one on my death bed. I need a new immune system. Pronto. I feel like I’m a hundred years old and I’m just waiting for my great great grandkids to bring me a get well card. Looks like I’ve reached senescence at the age of 19, what a joy!