How to Make New Friends in Public Toilets

These might just be my favourite type of conversations. Drunken people piping up because some other girls are talking about something that interests them. And it’s totally OK. There’s something about the setting of a girls’ toilet that makes strangers become friends in the short time they spend washing their hands and touching up their make-up.

This New Year’s Eve I found myself casually chatting to some Kardashian wannabes. Girls who’d never spare me a second glance out front, were actually chatting to me and Random Girl #1 about possible clubbing locations. The most amusing bit was, this girl in her platform heals and overly revealing dress (I honestly thought it was on backwards due to the amount of cleavage) were looking for somewhere they could, and I quote, ‘blend in’. Random Girl #1 turned to look at me, and I swear in that drunken moment we both were tempted to blurt out ‘Strip Club’. Luckily Random Girl #2 stepped out of a cubicle at that point and swooped in to save the conversation, directing the Kim and Khloe (I cast her as Khloe due to the unflattering pink dress she was bursting out of) lookalikes to a nearby club.

By then, our first toilet break was over and we proceeded outside where we were, predictably, ignored by the Kardashian Krew.

During our second journey to the toilet, we noticed our toilet breaks had synced up to Random Girl #2’s. Only this time, with no Kardashians around (they’d already flounced off to some other more trendy club with ‘like, proper music’) we ended up fangirling over Disney’s Frozen. My friend and I were discussing when to watch it, and  RG#2 got involved by singing its praises. A conversation which evolved into a discussion about Disney films becoming more adult-friendly recently.

Trip number three had us bumping into RG#2 once more. This time I engaged in a conversation about the DJ, his music choices and hair dyes (apparently her boyfriend had dyed his beard bright red) while I waited for my friend to come out.

Other favourite public toilet moments include:

·         The time I had an argument with a girl for not liking the same film as her (I forget what film it was, shows how much I enjoyed it) and a girl backed me up from inside a cubicle.

·         The time a drag-queen came into the girls’ toilet, and proceeded to teach my friend how to do her make-up.

·         And last, but not least, the time where these three guys dressed as cheerleaders burst into the toilet and started doing an improvised cheer. They tried every cheesy pick up line ever written, and one of them actually got a girl’s number (to be fair, he was rocking that skirt).

For whatever reason, there seems to be a magical atmosphere in public toilets, especially when alcohol becomes involved. 

Things I do NOT Miss About Uni... Part 2: Applications

When I decided to apply for a Masters course, I had totally forgotten about the stress that is applications.
Last time I had to worry about filling one of these in was about 4 years ago... Now I'm having a sense of déjà vu every time I yell at the screen willing my statement to write itself.
Its the same concept as cover letters, you shamelessly lie about your level of awesomeness in order for the Uni to accept you.
Fortunately, I managed to get into my course *cue for applause* so I thought to myself:

'Phew, so glad that's the last statement I'll ever have to write.'

WRONG!

Now my sister is applying for university herself... and she has shamelessly coerced me into 'helping' her write hers.
And by 'helping', I mean she writes me a list of ideas and we Skype. And then I end up rephrasing everything because 'it sounded so much better when you said it' and my sister seems to have forgotten how to structure an actual sentence.
Lies, I'm sure... but she's willing to suck up if it means I'll do most of the work! 
Sisters can be sneakily clever that way... although I'm pretty easy when it comes to being coerced. Put anything chocolate related that's edible in my way and I'll happily be your slave for day* (or a couple of hours... depends on what treat I get).
And boy does she know this... I find myself editing most of her work and helping her with assignments.
Luckily she keeps me well supplied with new music and book recommendations, so a possible win-win situation?
Well... we'll see if she gets accepted with my awesome personal statement advice. 
If not... It was nice knowing you all :)

*conditions apply

IT Guys... Self-proclaimed Gods of the Workplace

Something my mom might do...

... Or maybe just my workplace. 
Either way, I sometimes feel they lord the fact they're computer literate over you. Which isn't very nice, or encouraging. 
I'm pretty damn proud I haven't blown my computer up (as of yet) and haven't screwed it up irreparably (again... fingers crossed). 
Small victories where I'm concerned. As long as I'm slightly less useless at handling technology than my mom, I'll be happy. 
I'm more of a hand-written-papers girl if I'm honest. Something that drives our IT guy crazy. His face is priceless when I hand him my translations on paper... 

'What format is this?'
'Erm... paper?'
'How do I convert it?'
...

I've explained to him that I find it easier to do translations by hand, but he's still baffled by my choice of pen and paper. 
I keep receiving tonnes of emails a day with a lot of (mostly) useless links, to apps I'll never use or pages I'll never visit. 
And no explanations, just a bunch of links I promptly ignore... (whoops).
But one thing I really hate when dealing with IT guys (ok, I know I'm generalising... but this is the kind of people I've dealt with), is when they talk down to you like a small child just because you can't grasp some IT concept. 
I mean, I don't start patronising him for not being able to quote Keats or Shakespeare (not that I can either... but not the point). 
I think I'm a pretty fast learner, and if you took the time to explain I'd probably get by. But no, it's as if I'm not worthy of the time and get brushed off as that 'kid in the English department who doesn't know her .pdf from her .doc'.
What he doesn't count on is my stubbornness, which means I'd rather troll Google to find a solution to my problem than head up to IT to get the annoying child treatment. This has resulted in me becoming slightly more tech savvy in the past few months. 
Because when I do have to brave the IT department, its like walking repeatedly into a brick wall. It seems to take forever to transmit what you need to them because you attempt it in 'normal' speak and they counter in 'ITish' and then you have to convince them it's a legitimate change which can last about a day of back and forth between your desk and IT department.
... All this, so that by then end of the week nothing has changed, and you have to repeat the process again come Monday.
Who said being an adult was fun?

'No thanks Gran, I'm full' *piles more food on plate* 'Oh well, if you insist...'

And then I wonder why I put so much weight on over the holidays.

I'm starting to think that as soon as your first grandchild is born, some sort of switch must flip in your brain turning on GRANDMA MODE. Feeding becomes an obsession for them. 
You can tell them you dropped out of Uni: not a problem, maybe studying wasn't really your thing. 
You robbed a bank: no worries, I'm sure you needed the money. 
However, if your answer to the question 'Have you eaten yet?' is 'No'... well, prepare yourself for a barrage of food. A banquet fit for twenty odd people. And if your Grandma is anything like mine, all that food will be produced after her complaining about not having anything to eat. 

'Oh honey, you should've called before coming round. I would've made you something nice. I barely have anything for lunch today.' *bam!* She produces a roasted chicken from the oven, including side dishes.
Although sometimes, I think she just enjoys complaining. She does it regardless of if you ring her or not. If you don't go round to see her, she'll ring me (or my mother) and bitch because all her food went to waste. And if you go round without calling... well, refer to the sample conversation above. No way to win really. 
And if you don't answer her call, all you have to do is wait 20 minutes for one of my aunts to ring and complain about the phone call she just received. One of the perks of having a huge family: we're all interchangeable at times - mainly, when my Grandma needs someone to complain to.
To be fair, my Grandma is used to cooking for about 300 people, or what's the same, her 10 kids (which have the combined appetite of the aforementioned 300). So, she always has leftovers as well as a well developed empty-nest syndrome which results in her over-feeding her numerous grandchildren. 
And this would all be fine with me (I mean, who doesn't love to be pampered with food?), if once she were done with the feeding she wouldn't stop to give me a critical once-over and go: 
'Hmm... you're getting a bit chubby, don't you think? Maybe you should cut back a bit.' 
Unluckily for me, my family has a stupidly fast metabolism which means they can inhale food at alarmingly fast rates and still be a size 6/8. Hence the fact that all my Gran's pots and pans are massive. I'm not sure the woman knows how to cook for two... But anyway, this 'chubby' comment (sometimes followed by, 'Maybe walking a little more would help.') usually results in my aunts sniggering behind their hands (very adult hmpf), my mom face-palming and me generally confused. 
'Erm... Gran, I don't usually eat this much, you should know this...'
'Well, just say so! I won't serve you as much next time.' 
'But... I tried, the look you gave me was scary.'
'Oh, don't be silly! Now here, stop sulking and have some fruit for dessert. The neighbours just brought me some apples, I'll drizzle the pieces with honey.'
... And of course, I can't say no.

Note To Self: Never Accept Rides From Family Members - They Always Want Something...

Which is exactly how I found myself 'volunteering' to help my aunt move home.
I should have figured, seeing as it's very unusual for them to offer me rides so nicely. Usually I have to wear them down for a while, and make them feel sorry for me before they cave. So I shouldn't have been surprised when my uncle missed the turning into my street and headed straight to his old place. Maybe the fact we were in the minivan in the first place should have also given me some concern.
And if there is one thing I hate, it is moving. I just moved out myself, so packing somebody else's stuff wasn't exactly high on my To Do List. Not even halfway down really... likely not even on my list... But oh well, the things you do (or are forced to do) for family. But I've always found something slightly depressing about stuffing your life into boxes, especially once you're done and you stare at the small pile and think 'That's three years of my life, all neatly packed... doesn't take up much space, does it?'. 
I actually wish there were some sort of invention that sucked all of the stuff you own into some sort of vortex storage area, something easily carried, so you can set it down in your new place and have everything put into place with the click of a button. All in the same order of course, I'm not good at organising and wouldn't want to have to put all my books back into place. 

But sadly, technology is not so far advanced and we must rely on man (or in my case woman) power. Which I have almost none of - power, of course. I barely have energy to lift myself out of bed in the morning let alone help carry a wardrobe down the stairs. Add to that my innate lack of balance and you have the perfect recipe for disaster. Luckily, I wasn't the only one drafted to help out, else that lowering of a bookcase down the balcony could have ended very badly. As it was, we struggled to lower it. And I still maintain it was scratched before we even touched it!
But still, we managed to get most of the stuff out which led to phase 2: playing Tetris in the back of the van. Now that was fun. We had to re-arrange everything twice, before it was decided we'd better leave some stuff behind for next time... as if they'd be able to trick me into helping twice! Ha!
But oh well... after the massive detour I finally got dropped off at my place, successfully having avoided getting the bus. Small victory? Maybe.
But next time, I might be better of trying my luck at the bus station.

Things I Do NOT Miss About Uni... Part 1: All-Nighters

So we've all had to do one at some point during our degree. Whether it's because your computer had a meltdown, you forgot the deadline or you were simply too lazy to actually write it (yeah... I've done all three) an all-nighter is sometimes the only way out. 
Those dreaded deadlines seem to pile up on each other. I keep picturing evil lecturers gathering together asking themselves, "Are these deadlines too far apart? Of course they are! Lets put them all in the same week, I'm sure the students will appreciate it." *evil laughter*
So as deadlines loom closer, students start gathering in the library, searching for the perfect quotes to put in their essays. But, obviously, the library operates on a 'first come, first served' policy resulting in the best (and sometimes only) texts on the subject being taken and held hostage until after the hand-in.
Sometimes, you do get lucky and manage to stumble across some obscure text your classmates have overlooked. This is when you do your happy dance, earning weirded out stares from library workers. Oh well... totally worth it.
So it comes down to camping out in the library, which involves venturing to Tesco in search of munchies and energy drinks, and picking out your comfiest outfit (some people just go in their pjs) and settling down for the night. It usually helps to have a friend in the same situation to keep you motivated.
And what happens next can be one of two things:
1) You actually sit down and start writing, getting a good head start and finishing off in time for a quick nap before your hand-in or
2) You procrastinate on Facebook, or stare blankly at the wall until you realise it's 6:30am and you have written only your name and the essay title in a Word document. So you panic and power type probably the best essay you've ever written (writing under pressure tends to do that for me).
If you're a no. 2) kind of person, you'll probably be seen swearing at the printers 10 minutes before hand-in and sprinting to reception praying you get there on time. 
But when you do finally hand it in, a massive weight gets lifted off your shoulders and as you slowly make your way to the SU bar for a well deserved drink you make the following promise:
'Next time, I'll do it all a week in advance. No more all nighters.'
... Like hell you will.

Growing Old is Inevitable, But Growing Up is Optional

Although some people do take that concept quite far... 

And by people, I mean older women dressed like teenagers that from behind look like they could be any age between 25 and 55. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great that you still feel young at heart, but honestly, that strapless top isn't doing you any favours. And to men who still think they can pull off baggy jeans, I think most of us would prefer not seeing your bum crack. It's not a pleasant visual experience.
If there is something that really makes me cringe, is those mother-daughter duos which we need to examine very closely in order to determine which is which. They go shopping together, pick out the same clothes, and then try them on. This then turns into a fascinating display of shamelessness as they both begin to try on slinky dresses and totter out on mile high heels, making it easier to establish who the mother is. Namely, the one that can pull off neither of these items.
In general, I think people should learn how to age gracefully. It's not all about how you look. I'd rather be able to hang out with my parents, and talk to them one-on-one about the important stuff than have them bond with me over a "shared" fashion sense. It makes me feel that these people are trying too hard to hang onto their youth, and are missing out on other things that become more important as you become older. It's the same concept of a child wanting to be older and not enjoying their childhood while it lasts. 
It's funny that as kids, when asked our age we would always answer with "I'm going to turn..." showing how desperate we were to get older. Whenever my sister says that, I have to fight the urge to shake her while saying: "Enjoy 10 while you can! You'll never get it back."
There's a beautiful poem called 'On Turning Ten' about this exact thing. I wish I could go back and make my younger self read this, then maybe I would spend more time enjoying being a child than wishing I was already an adult so my parents couldn't boss me around (which by the way, is not true. Even at 21 they still try to manage my life).
The way I see, life's in stages for a reason. We're not meant to spend our lives looking back or forward. There are so many things to miss if were not living in the present. It's hard to avoid falling into the trap of thinking how life could be better, or was better. I often find myself daydreaming about the future, only to be bitterly disappointed when things don't turn out the way I imagined. But there comes a point where we have to teach ourselves to stay rooted in the present.
I know growing older sucks, but as long as we keep young at heart things shouldn't be too bad.