6 Kg bag of pasta - £2.75, Share of water bill - £23.75, making Stacey consider duct taping your mouth... Priceless...

... There are some things money can't buy. For everything else there's Mastercard... Or Daddy. 

Dig much?

Killing time in the library. Really doesn't get any better than this, my productive streak has been quashed by the librarian trying to reinforce a quasi concentration camp regime due to all that sit in here must keep their heads down and work. Bitch.

BYOB? It's a possibility. Apparently room booking isn't that essential for gig time frivolities leaving thirsty electronic music lovers/ house mates that have been dragged along against their own will thirsty. However, never fear... The hub is here. I personally enjoy digging my elbows into the ribs of football fans to get my fix of toffee apple cider. But then again who doesn't. Momentarily that night I considered commandeering a Chelsea shirt and parading it amongst the Arsenal fans whilst sing the brainwashing Millwall chants drilled into me as a child. Now that would be a confusing sight for many a football fan possibly resulting in a brick being inbeded into my skull. Lets look on the bright side... Would be less painful then a breeze block. 

Moving on. I ventured back up the Bromsgrove this weekend to visit the doting parents and sibling with a few wind band friends on the side. Nothing too exciting to report, apart from my  appalling guitar hero skills being reinforced as I slowly began to realise that it was impossible to achieve a complete song whilst delicately sipping, slash, necking a glass of wine. It is my life ambition to complete a song... On the easy level. 

In other news, the shower is surprisingly on better form however sporting an orange stripe of lime scale. Sexual. Miss Spicer will be dripping over this development as she washes the goose. 

The toilet roll fairy has also gone on strike as she now supplies her own toilet roll for her arse only. How the campers at 9 Park View Road managed to go though a 9 pack in 4 days is a mystery. Either someone's been shitting fire balls or eating it due to lack of other substantial meals. The toilet roll that is. No one eats fireballs. That is rather frowned upon. 

Must dash... Goose to locate! 

Pip pip.

I gas billed you face: desperate times call for immature measures.

I never knew VH1 Classics on a Saturday could successfully replace a night out. Myself and the baggage had epically drunk fun times singing our little hearts out after polishing off two bottles of vino and a bottle of some red shit which was supposed to be cherry flavoured, but then, however, had an exciting hint of cola cubes and paint stripper. Was most excellent. 

Flower land was a new experience for me. I had visions of endless fields of violets, blue bells and forget-me-nots broken up by the usual generic themepark frivolities. I couldn't of been more wrong. Instead we were confronted with a vast number of geriatrics huddled under a greenhouse. Not forgetting the fish torture shop... Sod the stones, lets watch the scaly bastards ricochet off the sides of the tank. BRILLIANT. 

A new excuse to avoid lectures is the moral stand. Or hows about if you're an egotistical prick no one is going to turn up. Tu comprend? 

£303 gas bill. World war 3 inevitably about to break out... Need I say any more. We just won't go there. 

Peace out. 

Yours truly. Mwah mwah.

Evolutionary measures: Survival of the fittest (Volume 1: 1)

Stacey does not get ill (well she tries to convince herself that she has the immune system of a robot), and the elephants on her chest are a minor blip therefore she can carry on functioning for the rest of the day. She also doesn't know why she' s referring to herself in the third person. 

Video did not kill the radio star: myself and Baker are bringing it back, quite literally, starting from next Wednesday. It will be a feast for your ears (well for people on campus anyways). 

Yesterday was full of LOLs. Playing Rumikub and then inappropriately watching a disney video (yes video) whilst hanging is full of fun times. I'm still buzzing from the experience and blaming the excitement that was caused for this nasty chesty thing. So excited that I even had a mini brain hemorrhage, well more of a nose bleed; this was the first since the age of ten. Epic stuff. 

Update: Shower time is even more exciting. We have a tile game. It's called try to put the tiles back on the wall after they fall off. I heart. I presented this to Linda from the housing office, however she didn't seem to share my enthusiasm and I then pointed out that the paddling pool in the kitchen is starting to become an inconvenience. Yet again lack of enthusiasm possibly due to the prospect of the large workload this will create for her. Poor Linda. 

Stacey is yet again referring to herself in the third person and considering retreating back to bed. Adieu. 

She had a dream... About a yellow smart car.

Forms of communication have broken down. We have resorted to mime... Which is fun if you like charades. I like charades. 

A story based on a dream. Ethel's dream (Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent): 

Once upon a time Ethel had a dream. She dreamt that she was driving around in her yellow smart car blasting her music without a care in the world. She pulled up in front of a club and entered. Alas, Hector was there, he had come to his senses. "I'm a dickhead" he exclaimed. Well I know you are replied Ethel. They danced and lived happily ever after.... 

Another piece of advice. Flashing blue lights and eyes are not a good combination. One of my oh-so-charming housemates decided it would be a good idea to temporarily blind me. Interesting but not entirely true fact (however if it isn't entirely true it isn't ACTUALLY a fact - dickhead Stacey); apparently if you mix sunny delight with vodka it will make the drinker go blind for 15 minutes. I think this is rather hilarious and would make an exciting anecdote if carried out. Essentially I think that this would be fun due to it being just enough time to scare you but not so much that it would mentally damage you. Go have fun.

Holly has taken the role of cheese DJ. Good for you Holly. You go Holly. 

Make cheese not war. 

Sky isn't working: Amusing myself in other ways.

Apparently there is life outside of Sky plus. This isn't an entirely new concept for myself however is becoming marginally difficult for my housemates to comprehend. Repeat episodes of friends will be sourly missed with the murky shadow of despair being cast upon the not so aesthetically pleasing abode as other activities will have to be endured. Quite literally endured. 

In other news it is becoming apparent that we really do need a small paddling pool in our kitchen. It was foolish for us at Park View Road to think otherwise as the housing office seem to think that this is the norm and therefore, we should be grateful for the water pouring down the walls every time someone has a shower. At least it will drown the mice. To be perfectly honest I'm starting to see how this can be fun. For example, I like the element of danger whilst showering; letting 'fate' decided whether or not you will fall through the ceiling before the cooker combusts (APPARENTLY electricity and water ARE NOT a good combination). 

Methinks this is an excellent start to blogging. Yesh. 

Appreciate this entry. It may be the first and last as this is one of those "good intentions" that will be inevitably forgotten after 72 hours. 

Adieu.