My Birthday

I didn't keep the New Year Resolution to turn this weekly. In 23 days, I have written two blog entries. Ouch. That's embarrassing and I would feel bad if I had an audience, which I don't.

Right, I turned 19 a couple of days ago. I awoke to several Facebook notifications, which in the modern day, is the equivalent of waking up on Christmas Day to find all of your family members alive and drunk with presents underneath the tree. Or whatever. Tortured metaphors aside, that was reasonably nice to see, especially as some were not of the "Happy Birthday!!1" generic affair that you often see. I got about 90 of these over the day, maybe that number has been exagerrated to boost my ego, which is a fair amount.

Wait. It was 150 people. Yeah. 200.

The doorbell rang gleefully, despite it sounding like a gyre leading to madness, at 12:30. Two friends had come with cards, cakes, sweets and booze. I was taken too far aback by this, I wasn't expecting anything, I was expecting a quiet day that would be special and I wouldn't revise. Not that I revise anyway. I eventually decided I would go to town with them later and I would scope out a new guitar with the birthday money I received. This never happened, but complaining about it would seem ungrateful, not that it stopped me before.

Crude Facebook Event later and people were going to a friend's flat to commemorate THE BIG ONE NINE and I added invites as well and it seemed that it would be crap, but people would be there. This is how it turned out to be, but with a lot more conversation and chuckle. Eventually, we went to the pub and then to a club, which played glorious rock music all night long. The night was good, very good indeed, and everybody was up for it and had a good time. I was also drunk.

Wahoo.

Afterwards, I was put into a trolley and pushed home like the King that I was. We also met a Doctor, a real one, not one that has a PhD in Yachting or whatever. It was a good night, a very good night.

Yeah, that last paragraph should have been longer.

Back to University.

University students have a dilemma, well, the ones that move away from home have the problem. Which is home? At your flat/whatever or at home? It's an interesting question, at least I think it is. It is one of the many things pondered on the seven hour train journey back to Aberdeen.

I also pondered:

• What will my sitcom be about?
  
• Is Black Swan worth watching?
• Why are all the "Sounds of 2011" primarily shit?
• How many Come Dine With Me celebrity specials can they do?
• Why is he reading the Sunday Sun? Why is it called the Sunday Sun?
• Staff shortage?
• Where's the food trolley?
• Staff shortage.
• It took us this long to get to York?
• Is that snow? It better not be.
• She's a 7? Yeah, 7.
• Poland or Ukraine in 2012?
• Am I human or am I dancer?

Yes, all of these were pondered and I only came to one answer.

If you have two homes, make sure they are not seven hours away. It's a royal pain.

It's a New Year.

The updating of this blog has been infrequent. My New Year's Resolution is to make it at least weekly. I didn't need any more as I am perfect. So there.

Christmas was a quiet affair and a nice one at that. I actually prefer it now to when relatives would come over and make it a huge dramatic ensemble play. One written by Ben Elton. That bad.

I received books and clothes. What I wanted and needed. Cannot complain, which makes this blog rather mundane, but there you have it.

Let's talk about the New Year's Eve celebrations.

I wanted to get out of the house for NYE, it would be my first without the family and I wanted it to be a good one. My parents like it to be a family thing, but I'm in my youth. Forget that. The problem is several people like to deploy the tactic, "I'll see what comes up," instead of giving a definite answer of whether they would like to do anything for NYE. Clubs were charging upwards of £30 for entry, even the bad ones. Yeah. You know the ones. With the 52 year old Asian man in the corner.

Ended up finding a NYE party at a decent sized pub and managed to get a few people to come as well. Plans were going well. Others were undecided, but I had five definites, which is enough for me not to care about anyone else.

The two coming with me didn't get tickets in advance, as it was said you could buy them at the door. SOLD OUT. That was a problem until we found a door, one metre away from the main entrance that was unguarded, or unbouncered. Easy. Wish I hadn't bought an advance ticket. It was about as useful as an inflatable dartboard. Or something written by Ben Elton. Zing.

Saw people we knew. Girls from another school, who took half an hour to recognise me. Hmmm. I need to become more memorable, like Raoul Moat. A friend decided to buy a round of drinks and we all wanted double vodkas with lemonade. £17.80. We bought no more drinks that night.

NEW YEAR'S! WHEY!

I remember no more of this night.

This entry in the blog is a disaster. Ben Elton wouldn't read this crap. Fucking Ben Elton.