How To Be 5ft1 & Like It

Rule 15: Say "This Semester Things Will Be Different" And Mean It.

2012-01-23T22:00:00.000Z

"I will be taking a register to prevent what is locally known in Glasgow as 'dogging it'. However, I do not mean the type of dogging you do in a car at night." - Brian McNeil introducing us to Thermal and Statistical Physics.

Flat 7/13, Collegelands.

This semester things will be different.

Today I got up before 7, was ready just after 7 and was in uni before half past 9 even though I didn't start until 10. This is an improvement. On the other hand I was at Dave's and wasn't really given much choice in the matter.

Our 2pm lecture today was a bit of a fiasco. The lecturer was told by the other lecturer that there would only be 30 people attending the class. The actual number of people who turned up was closer to 90. This resulted in a fair amount of university-bashing when, later on, we got our hands on computers.

As it turned out, 60 of us (myself included) had turned up for the class 47 hours early. Ah.

So, this semester things really ARE going to be different. Not only did I attend all my classes, I even went to an extra one!

The downside of this is that I've only had about four hours sleep and my caffeine intake today has been ridiculous. I'm also working tonight, and I feel like a half-shut knife and a million other bad metaphors even though I took a disco nap.

Bollocks.

Rule 14: Never Use The Phrase "New Year, New Me!"

2012-01-04T17:52:00.001Z

"Haha, old people." - Dave watching a game show.

The DaveCave, Dave's House, Alexandria

I hate it when people use the phrase 'new year, new me!', and judging from what I saw on Facebook over the countdown to 2012 most people agree with me. Either that or they're saying "new year, new me!".

I'm not going to talk much about my Christmas and New Year, because it's incredibly annoying at this time of year when every update on Facebook,Tumblr and Twitter (does anyone use Google+ yet?) says "Xmas n New Year were great/shite! 2011 was the best/worst year and 2012 will be better!".

Fucking horrible.

I've been staying out at Dave's for, well, all of this year so far. I have exams coming up which are going to form part of my degree average, and while I should be studying I can't really stop myself from obsessively playing LA Noire instead. This is probably not good, seeing as my mild OCD means I'm madly trying to

My logic is thus: my ps3 lives at Dave's, and my work and uni schedule means I usually only spend one day a week up here, Sunday, and by that point I'm knackered. And anyway, the library opens tomorrow and I'm only working Thursday and Saturday this week, so I can get right stuck in.

When this logic stops comforting me I move on to the next comforting thought which never fails to work. At least Dave has done less studying than me.

ie. None.

Rule 13: Be A Geek.

2011-12-17T20:05:00.002Z

"I'm half cut! I've had two drinks! Two BULMERS!" - what happens when Bingles gets an early at work.

Tinderbox, City Centre.

I am absolutely loaded with the cold. It's my own fault though. In the last two nights I've been caught coming out of The Garage in rain and snow with totally inappropriate shoes and short skirts. The upshot of this is a throat like sandpaper and a horrendously drippy nose.

Of course, it's the recently pierced side that's dripping.

After spending all morning in bed hunched over a lemsip and working my way through packet after packet of tissues I decided I just HAD to get out the flat before I went utterly mental. Predictably I've ended up in Tinderbox. Usually I'll bring a book, but in my wisdom I decided to bring my laptop and have ended up paying six quid for the priviledge of three hours internet. Which, you know, wouldn't bother me but I'm not even using it because I'm too busy playing Minecraft offline.

I totally blame Dave for my Minecraft addiction. He showed me how to dye sheep red and yellow and before long I was building igloos and attacking creepers with a diamond sword. Dave, Cammy and I nearly dressed up as Minecraft characters for Hallowe'en but it fell through, mainly due to lack of cardboard boxes and paint. I ended up going as a hippy instead.

I should really be studying for the January exams, but I can't quite decide if that would be more or less geeky than playing Minecraft.

Rule 12: Don't Be Afraid Of Needles.

2011-12-06T16:20:00.001Z

"Obviously I didn't make that joke up. I mean, I LOVE women!" - Kwaku, after telling a joke about how a woman is like a christmas tree.

Level 7, Strathclyde Union.

I am shit at remembering to blog.

It always occurrs to me at ridiculous times (3am, at the cinema or in the middle of a shift at work) that I haven't posted to this in ages, but by the time I make it home or to a pc I either get distracted or just plain stop caring. And that is my useless excuse for the almost two-month gap between posts.

Probably the most significant thing that's happened in the past two months (other than me turning 20) is that I got a job at the Garage nightclub. While I am nowhere near out of my overdraft, I'm at least back in it and not 50 quid over it. Plus, having money means I can, to quote Cammy, eat and do other things. Such as pay my rent. I love being employed.

In other news, I got my nose pierced yesterday. It's something I've wanted to get done since I was about six years old and my Auntie Karen had hers done. She also had, and still has, red hair and I was desperate to dye mine the same sort of colour. Needless to say my gran wasn't impressed.

So fourteen years later I've managed one of those things. I'm staying away from the red hair dye though, too many Rihanna connotations. And I like my goth-black hair. No chance of it clashing with my clothes.

I was really scared of getting it done, so much so that Dave had to come with me and hold my hand while I got it done. I couldn't look at the needle, but after it I recovered enough to ask Dave what the stuff had looked like. Apparently the needle was as thick as the ink tube inside a pen. I was sincerely sorry I'd asked.

I also got a new tattoo a few days after my birthday. It's a little pink flower on my hip and I absolutely love it.

The less said about how I almost fainted getting it, the better.

Rule 11: Don't Bugger Up Your Sleeping Pattern.

2011-10-18T07:37:00.001+01:00

"He looks like an ill serial killer" - Cammy, via text.

Flat 7/13, Collegelands, City Centre

I have totally buggered up my sleeping pattern.

Admittedly, the Lord of the Rings marathon last week can't really have helped any, but what's really screwed the whole thing up was a 50th birthday party that Dave and I went to on Saturday night.

The party was a laugh, and finished at midnight, as these things do. The problem, however, was that we went back to the house after it and sat up till 6am drinking. We then decided it would be a good idea to take a casual stroll through the East End, and eventually got a taxi at the back of seven. Because of this, we slept until 5pm. Another day wasted, my sleeping pattern ruined once again.

My way of fixing this was to sit up all night. Weirdly enough, I'm fine. I'm sitting here at half seven in the morning, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for my first lecture. Hopefully by tonight I'll be tired enough to actually sleep.

Well, one can only hope.

I'm writing this from a different flat than the last time. Due to circumstances beyond my control I've had to move up to the 7th floor. The lift journeys are awful, but the view is much better from up here. You can see all the way to Eaglesham Moor from my kitchen window. It's lovely at night.

The sun's starting to come up. I can forsee this being a very long day.

Rule 10: It's Not a Walk of Shame, It's a Stride of Pride

2011-10-10T13:52:00.002+01:00

"If he falls off that I'll literally piss myself laughing. Might warm me up as well" - Chris Millborow, watching Dave skateboard down Bell Street at 6am

Level 7, Strathclyde Union

It's been a weird wee weekend.

On Friday night the Welcome Team had a Lord of the Rings marathon. Not even the theatrical releases, the extended editions of all three films. This involved 30 of us piling into a generously donated front room, ordering Domino's pizza and trying not to fall asleep. 9 of us were there for the end credits, but only 6 of us made it through the night without sleeping, me being one of them.

By the walk home we were all totally overtired and everything was absolutely hilarious. Even walking up the middle of Bell Street as two fire engines hurtle towards us.

On Saturday night Dave was going to the Catty and hadn't asked me to go (this is a point of contention between the two of us at the moment, he says he did. Twice.) so I decided to go with Alex, Tersha and Debbie and just not tell Dave that I was going. He found out by accident, but because he left the flat before me I managed to convince him that I'd changed my mind and was at home in my pjs, when in reality I was congaing across the dancefloor to OPM.

I bumped into him eventually. He seemed a bit confused by the whole thing, really.

This morning I fell asleep on the sofa in level 7. My sleeping pattern is absolutely tospy-turvy.

Rule 9: Don't Go Clothes Shopping With A Guy Two Feet Taller Than You

2011-09-27T18:36:00.001+01:00

"Oooh, I love Moby Dick so I do!" - Jai, talking in a literary sense

Level 7, Strathclyde Union

Now that the mental week of being a member of the Strathclyde Welcome Team is over, I can finally get back to blogging.

I'm sitting on Level Seven of the Union where I have been for the whole day seeing as my lectures were cancelled today. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately? - this means that I've been roped into helping with all sorts of societies, race relations being chief among them, and the main reason that I'm in Level Seven after 6pm.

Another thing I ended up helping out with, or at least promising to help out with was the fashion show. This involved me promising to model and getting sent to New Look with Siobhan (she's also modelling), Darren (he's organising it) and Cammy (he fancied a walk).

When we got there Siobhan and I found out we got to pick our own outfits. One of us was to find some casual wear and the other one was to wear some sort of party outfit. We had a budget of £1,000 and we also got to pick shoes and accessories. Cammy and I went on a mad hunt for autumn/winter casual clothes, but of course everything he liked, I hated and everything he hated, I liked. Eventually we settled on a jumper, leggings and ankle boots for me, and an off the shoulder dress and skyscraper heels for Siobhan.

We've been on Level 7 since then, discussing Race Relations, halaal bacon and inflatable parrots.

As you do.

Rule 8: Have A Decent Grip On Reality

2011-09-13T00:00:00.001+01:00

"Get Spam! Then we can have Spamwiches!" - Dave getting excited in Tesco.

Flat 2/11, Collegelands, City Centre.

I still sort of feel like I'm in a hotel all the time. This place is so pristine and it all looks the same. I never see my flatmates and I just haven't been here long enough for this to feel like home.

However, I still love it here. Dave and I went for an adventure to Tesco today and bought loads of food and plates and a frying pan. There's nothing that makes me happier than a well-stocked fridge. Except maybe getting 200 Twinnings teabags as a flatwarming present from wee David.

Continuing on the theme of strange-but-really-good things that happen to me and Dave when we go for a smoke:

Tonight we decided to brave the elements for a smoke before we retreated to the PS3 den we've set up in my room. When we were out we came across what I described as "a man in a nice hat". It turned out that the man in the nice hat was a PR man, and he casually handed us a deck of voucher cards for Campus and Club 520 each. They supposedly have £1000 worth of discounts in them - I haven't checked this out yet - and are meant to cost £30. He managed to grab another group of people and give them a few packs as well, but after they went out he still had two left over, so he gave us another pack each.

Don't be surprised if you see me in the queue for 520 trying to hock one for £20.

Rule 7: Know All The Rules To Ring of Fire.

2011-09-05T19:40:00.000+01:00

"What does Jack mean? Anyone? Aw well, Jack means a fag break!" - A gentleman named Chris during a game of Ring of Fire.

Flat 2/11, Collegelands, City Centre

I moved flat on Saturday, it was a ridiculous amount of hassle. I'm now living in a second floor flat in brand new student accommodation with two other girls (another two are due to move in next week). It's absolutely lovely, I've been singing the place's praises to anyone who'll listen since I got here.

It wasn't until Melissa pointed it out that I realised the flat number is the same as my birthday. 2/11. 2nd November. Odd that.

Last night Dave and I went out for a smoke and a walk. When we got back to the main entrance to my block the doorway was full of other people smoking. They started chatting away to us and invited us up to a party in one of their flats. Of course, we went.

The flat was absolutely mobbed. There were people DJing, a group playing Ring of Fire and the obligitary bunch of cool kids who were standing in the kitchen looking, well, "cool". On top of this, any time anyone went for a smoke they would bump into someone else at the door and bring them back to join the party.

I can forsee this being a good year.

Rule 6: Be Organised.

2011-08-30T23:34:00.002+01:00

"Do you know what I want? A deep fried pizza." - self, hungover.

The CatFlat, Shawlands.

I move out of this flat on Saturday. The thing is, not only have I not started packing, I've not even thought about starting packing. And I'm a messy person, everything is everywhere.

In my defence, I planned to begin today, but unfortunately Dave, Beth, David and I went out last night for what we like to call "a Horrid Garage Monday". These inevitably lead to "Horrid Hangover Tuesdays", which aren't nearly as much fun, and really impair my ability to do anything remotely productive. Because of this I have spent all day in bed, playing the Sims 3. I got my laptop fixed over the weekend which is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because, well, laptop, and a curse because, well, Sims 3. I'm never going to get anything done any more.

Dave managed to escape the worst of Hangover Tuesday, so he was dispatched to the chippy to buy me a deep fried pizza for lunch. Surprisingly, it helped. I still didn't manage to recover properly until long after Dave had left, after my flatmate had came in and after I'd managed to get into the kitchen and make a cup of tea.

This has been such a waste of a day.

Rule 5: Pass Exams On The First Sitting.

2011-08-03T18:36:00.002+01:00

"Aww, 'mon tae fuck, Cairney. You cannae leave your banana skins lying on the flair, somebody might slip. I'll have tae gie you a row" - Gary, in a weird fit of rage.

Dave's House, Alexandria.

I always find getting into studying a total nightmare. Once I get going I'm absolutely fine, it's starting that's the problem. I have four exams in a fortnight (two resits, two first attempts) and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to sit down and do sums.

This is true at the best of times.

For the past few days I've been staying at Dave's, and I'll probably be here for the next week and a half. His parents are on holiday and there's a team of about 5 of us living here, and a four or five others who are here every night. We've all fallen into a weird sort of routine that involves getting up at around 1pm and gaming, then moving on to drinking and gaming, and finally moving into the phase of just drinking until we fall into our respective beds at times ranging from 2am (me, I like to sleep) to 6am (AJ, he's hardcore).

In between this I have somehow been managing to fit in religiously doing two past papers a day and drinking insane amounts of tea. However, it's not half hard work when everyone else is sitting gaming and all I want to do is screw physics and join in. I'm being good though.

However.

We have a to-do list of games that have to be completed before the end of the empty. I remain the only person to have ticked something off the list when in a fit of madness the other night I completed Undead Nightmare in one sitting.

The smugness this has given me can get me through any amount of past papers.

Rule 4: Have A High Pain Threshold.

2011-07-28T20:25:00.001+01:00

"Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh! Oh, you were right Emma, your ribcage does rattle!" - Mari on getting her second tattoo.

The CatFlat, Shawlands

I like it when it rains. I'm not a fan of heat, generally. I burn too easily, I get grumpy and I have this horrific tendency to faint. That being said, I don't particularly enjoy sitting in George Square for over an hour in the pouring rain, listening to the "sweet" strains of folk music, as elderly scandinavians do a Swedish Barn Dance in the middle of the square. You could tell they took their barn dancing terribly seriously.

I met Mari this afternoon to go and hold her hand while she got her second tattoo. As it was I didn't get to hold her hand. Nor was I allowed to touch her in any capacity because if I touched her, I would mover her. And if I moved her, she would move. And if she moved, her skin would move. And if her skin moved, the canvas was moving. And if the canvas was moving...

I think you get the picture.

During the session Mari's mum phoned her. I answered to explain that she was still under the needle (as it were). Her mum had a nice little chat with me and then gave me into trouble for calling her Mrs Pattison.

I am currently putting off studying. Once I get going with studying, I'll keep going, but actually starting is a problem. I really couldn't care less about cars going in anti clockwise circles at a constant speed of five metres per second.

On the other hand, I don't really relish the idea of failing second year. It's not exactly in keeping with my five year plan.

Rule 3: Have A Job.

2011-07-18T00:30:00.001+01:00

"Have you heard about the new ID Salon? No? Do you want to come up this dark alley with me so I can tell you all about it?" - Gary, the distressingly handsome ID Salon gentleman practising his pitch on me.

The CatFlat, Shawlands

Busking is all well and good, I suppose, but it's not really a great main source of income.

I say "main" source of income. I mean "only".

The guys in Sloan's market have got me doing PRing, handing out flyers in Buchanan Street for four hours on a Saturday and four hours on a Sunday. That's the theory anyway, because when I dragged myself out of bed this morning to squelch my way through a near-torrential downpour into town I was told that not only did they not need me today, but they didn't actually need me yesterday either. How fantastic and strangely reminiscent of working in the Barras.

I spent a bit of time down there today anyway, waiting for the rain to go off. While I was there I got chatting to one of the guys who works there, Fraser. He sells 'wax dipped bears'. Apparently you sit them somewhere warm in your house and they smell nice. Right.

On the plus side, I got to go home and spend the rest of the day being fantastically productive doing, well, nothing at all.

Looks like I'll be pulling the old uke out on weekends again. After all, I have to keep myself in Irn Bru and trashy magazines somehow.

Rule 2: Don't Be Forgetful

2011-07-10T13:12:00.003+01:00

"Why don't ye get a real guitar hen?" - Gentleman on Buchanan Street

The CatFlat, Shawlands

I am the only person in the world that can leave a musical instrument in a coffee shop and not notice for 15 hours.

Beanscene in Shawlands is my new favourite place. I tend to go there every day after busking and drink tea before heading back to the CatFlat.

Yesterday I was half asleep when I was in there and was drinking coffee. Not something I make a habit of.

I got back to the flat and started tidying, sorting my stuff out for busking the next day. It wasn't till 11am the next morning when I was ready to leave the flat I thought "Where's my ukulele?" and then "aww shit".

My first thought was that I'd left it on the bus, but then I remembered it sitting on the table in Beanscene. I practically sprinted over there and asked the man serving if they had it. He looked totally at a loss and my heart sank. Turns out he just didn't know what a ukulele was.

Fortunately they had it. Regardless, I am an idiot.

Rule 1: Don't Be Claustrophobic.

2011-07-07T11:28:00.003+01:00

"Why do you want the window shut? In case the door flies out it?" - Dave, as James tried to kick the door in.

The CatFlat, Shawlands

Yesterday I was locked in a room with my boyfriend for 22 hours. We went in at about 11.30pm on Tuesday night and got out again at just after 9.30pm on Wednesday.

Let me explain.

Well, how do I explain? It turned out that the inside of the lock had shattered, so it was only a matter of time before somebody got stuck in there. It's probably just as well I wasn't in there on my own, I'm very claustrophobic - and as it was at one point I had the window fully open and was sitting with my legs dangling over the side of the building. We're on the second storey.

The worst part of the whole situation was that we had no food, and by 5pm all we could say to each other was "Aww, I'm so fucking hungry!".

When my flatmate eventually got home from work (at around half 7) we took the handles off and made the discovery that the latch was broke. We ended up being let out by a locksmith who had brought his children with him for some reason.

When we got out we went for a chinese and a chippy, and also to Chicken Cottage because we are just both that fat.

Leftover chicken nuggets for breakfast are the best thing ever.