The cliche Christmas blog post.

So another year has flown by once more. Unreal isn’t it how quickly time is passing; and here we are again in December. With it’s cold days, freezing nights, disgusting weather but most importantly- CHRISTMAS! The one time of the year that everyone comes together in harmony (for the most part) and celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ… By giving each other a shit load of presents, stuffing our faces with delicious food and getting pissed with family and friends. What’s not to love?

As I grow older it’s starting to become painfully obvious that Christmas as child is much more wonderful than as a young adult. Laying out cookies, carrots and milk (maybe with a dash of the strong stuff) for Santa as he squeezes down the tiny chimney, before marveling over how he managed to deliver presents to everybody in the world in just one night. Presents came in stacks- for me it ranged from pairs of knickers which my mum bought religiously for me every year (yes, she still does) to the newest doll or game console, whatever took my fancy as a child. The family would sit around and watch you open presents and you felt absolutely delighted that you were the centre of everybody’s attention. You were smothered with love and affection which made you feel overwhelmed because who doesn’t love kids at Christmas? Their energy alone could brighten someone’s day and their warm hearts (for the majority of kids) made the cold world outside a little more bearable.

Growing up destroys the mystery of Christmas. You are suddenly told that Santa was a lie concocted by parents all over the world, and presents become clothes instead of the latest gadget that makes your eyes pop with wonder. You are asked for what you want as presents instead of being surprised, you have jobs which may require you to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and last but definitely not least… Being a responsible (fairly) adult meant that you were expected to buy presents for everybody you’ve ever known. Fuck.

I have never been good at buying people presents. I have no idea where to start, I have no idea what the hell people would want, and I usually get something that they hate. My sense in fashion is soul-destroying and the thought of buying expensive jewelry or perfumes makes me shiver. I have no money, I’m already in debt from University even though it’s not over, how am I to afford everything for everyone? This is where things become a little bit more stressful. Gone are the days where you would go to Primary School and the only stressful thing going on was reciting lines for the Nativity Play. The real world is upon you, and people are expecting you to contribute.

The lead up to Christmas is agonizing; you’re plagued with the thoughts of deadlines you have coming up in the New Year and ripping your hair out over presents you can’t think up- so I suppose it’s completely understandable why adults get so drunk Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. I already feel like drinking and I haven’t even started shopping yet.

Of course Christmas isn’t all doom and gloom like I’ve described. You’re together with the people you love the most, surrounded by their love for you and each other. You pray for snow together and sing Christmas songs loudly (and embarrassingly) together.You drink even more than you intended to and play silly board games. You fight over who gets the last roast potato or dollop of swede that our grandparents are infamously known for.

But of course, all the fun eventually comes to an end. Christmas finishes, the familiar sense of reality creeps upon you and you can’t help but think- oh I wish it could be Christmas, everydaaaaaaaaay.

Hipster Finds Lifestyle Too Expensive, Reverts to Mainstream

One of the most perfect blog entries ever, depicts the over-populated hipster world we now live in brilliantly; good effort!

Lettuce Fold

HipsterASHEVILLE, NC — Derek Loy has been living the hipster lifestyle for the past two years, but after his bank account began to dwindle, he reverted to mainstream customs.

“I tried my best,” said Loy, “I really did. I was juicing regularly, eating local and organic, and was doing my best to only drink craft beer. Unfortunately, my bank account just couldn’t handle hipster living.”

Loy said the added stress on his bank account caused him to revert to a more conventional lifestyle, that he enjoyed in his pre-hipster years.

“All the stuff I was doing was great. Kale salads and IPA’s are delicious, but you know what’s also fantastic: cheap stuff. Bud light, frozen chicken and pizza, Coke. Was I saving a lot of money on clothes? Absolutely. I mean, I was buying stuff from thrift stores that homeless people probably wouldn’t wear. And, because I rarely showered, my water…

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What is a dysfunctional family?

          I’m forever asking myself what is the true definition of a dysfunctional family. Some say it’s when the whole family just don’t get along and are all miscreants in some way; others are more prejudice and go further by saying it’s when it’s not a stereotypical family (better known as the nuclear family to all those sociology buffs out there) but with same sex parents, as according to some that will completely screw up the child’s mind when growing up- which we know to be absolute bull shit. What riles me up though, is when a nuclear family (mother and father still married of course with their crappy jumpers tied around their shoulders and all) says that a dysfunctional family is when it’s a single parent trying to raise their children. I’m from a single-parented family. 

          I’m not usually one to lash out at those who ignorantly post things about single-parented families because they truly don’t understand what it’s like and often attempt to make themselves sound smart by talking about subjects out of their depth, but recently I noticed one comment (on twitter but it hurt all the same) about how children raised by one parent are most likely to become dysfunctional or psychotically behaved, more-or-less meaning that we must come from a dysfunctional background.

          First of all, fuck off. 

          Second of all, thank you. Even though for a split second (maybe more) I actually believed that I may come from a slightly dysfunctional family and the words may have tumbled out of my mouth once or twice, it then made me realize what an idiot I am for even doubting my family unit. So yes, my family has broken up and yes, my upbringing was a lot different from what I thought it would be; but that definitely doesn’t mean it has made me dysfunctional. I go to University going into my third year, I’ve come home for the summer and got myself two jobs to earn my own money- does that seem dysfunctional to you? My mum works her ass off to provide for my sister and I and although that breaks the stereotype of the father being the breadwinner (come on guys, it’s not the 1950’s anymore), that doesn’t make her dysfunctional, that pretty much makes her bionic woman. 

          Third of all, lone-parent families are now becoming one of the most common family structures in the world, meaning the nuclear family that you all claim to be the regular thing is now becoming the not-so regular thing. One in four children are born to lone-parent families, and bear in mind how many other family types there are nowadays. Being in a single-parent family of course has it’s downsides; one being that you lose closeness with one of your parents be it your mother or your father, but the upside is the parent that you still have; you become closer than ever with, I would know.

          Fourth and finally, your family unit as a whole (although of course it has it’s ups and downs) becomes stronger because you work through your problems together; your parent will need you more now as they don’t have a partner to depend on, and I like the fact that I can help my mum when she needs it. Not only that, people seem to believe that the single-parent get’s no help whatsoever, but that’s so far away from the truth! My grandparents help whenever they can meaning our bond with them is strengthened, and family friends are always there to keep a whether eye out, even if it does cause some family spats. 

          So yeah, maybe sometimes I did/do miss out on some opportunities because our income isn’t as great as everybody else’s, but that also made me realize how much my mum loves me, because the pain on her face when she told me, or my sister for that matter that she couldn’t afford something we wanted would haunt my memories. I’ve given you a list of reasons why a lone-parent family is far from dysfunctional, so next time you think it’s odd that someone only has one parent: stop being a unmindful little cretin and actually think about the words you throw about, because they may just hurt someone.


So this weekend I experienced my first festival. Not the camping kind (but that is my next aim), but obviously with the rest of the festival stuff; the music, the people and last but definitely not least- the amazing atmosphere. I’d never been in a place where people were so willing to make conversation with one another instead of being buried in their phone’s and hastily ignoring everyone around them. Music for the most part brings everybody together in the best sort of way.

It was sensational looking around and seeing everybody singing or miming along with the words, all bundling up together and dancing together. But things definitely reached their peak for the final act of the night Friday night especially; the crowd goes absolutely wild. With a longer set and a bigger stage, the place becomes a frenzy of emotions and cheers, I’d never seen anything like it and to be frank; I would happily go through it all over again.

I met a variety of different people over the weekend who had all come together for Lovebox Festival. People from New Zealand, Australia, America and a fair few French people. I’d even met people in the military and navy forces there to bask in the glory of music with friends and family. All different sorts of people coming together for the same thing, it really shows that music is strong factor for bringing us all together.  It was an experience and a half to say the least.

It definitely makes you see music in a different way, feel music in a different way. Being there with the right people makes it so much better too, and I was definitely with the right people. Needless to say now I’m feeling the post-festival blues; I’m sitting on the sofa scrolling through pictures and listening to songs that were played over the course of the two days and wallowing in self-pity about having to go back to normality tomorrow.

I wish the weekend had never ended. 

How did I become so pessimistic?

So a blog entry dedicated to myself. I thought this would be a lot easier to write and I prayed it would mostly be optimistic going on’s but now that I think long and hard about it, it really isn’t. No, I’m not one of those dopey girls who claim that everything in their life is wrong and they simply don’t know how to carrying on living, I’m just the biggest fricking pessimist I know. The glass is always half-empty. I’m not entirely sure how my mum managed to give birth to two children who are the most negative children in the world when she’s all rainbows and butterflies, so I’m going to stab a guess at it coming from my papa’s side.

Or maybe it all stems from Primary School. I was the weird girl who didn’t seem to want fake weddings and play dates with boys, I was the one passing messages to and from my peers while taking out my prepubescent anger by kicking boys and shoving them into the playground railings. I lived in jeans and hoodies, and my hair was constantly scraped into a messy ponytail from lack of caring. (I am getting to the point, hold on.) Needless to say I was a bit of a tom-boy, and some considered that a little weird. Dress? Hell no. Make-up? Are you kidding? I may as well have been a boy between the ages of beginning of time until I was sixteen! But anyway as a child you immediately think you’re different from the rest and alas, negative thoughts start flooding your tiny little brain!

Furthermore, it doesn’t help when you go to an all-girl’s secondary school. Those pessimistic thoughts start manifesting into a whole new being, following you around and sitting on your shoulder just sneering at you in your ear; and no, I’m not schizophrenic. That’s all because for five days a week, seven hours a day, you’re surrounded by girls who take pride in their appearance and actually do- as horrific as it sounds, girly stuff. (Incredulous thought, I know.) I think I wore a skirt twice in my five years at Secondary school, even during the hot summers. It’s times like this where you start accepting the pessimism; you start embracing it as a personality trait… And honestly? You even start to enjoy it.

In 6th form I finally passed my ‘ew-makeup-disgusting’ phase but of course the pessimism had settled deeply into my very being with no escape. However, I was also introduced something that can cause temporary optimism with the feeling that you’re invincible: Alcohol. Of course I never consume large amounts (never, ever, ever) but when I do have a little (lightweight until the end) I become the happiest, most loving girl that sober me cringes about the next day. Of course as I said it’s temporary and the next day you feel worse than normal, but it’s all part of the experience!

Well obviously as I must have mentioned over a thousand times now I’m at University, and I’m still the incredibly pessimistic. Every situation I’ve been in I’ve always thought about the worst that could happen and genuinely believed it would come true, I still do. Will that ever change? Never. Do I want it to? No clue.

So overall: don’t be a tom-boy, don’t go to an all-girls school, and for God’s sake don’t be so insecure if you want to live an optimistic, ‘the-glass-is-always-half-full’ life, because otherwise, you’ll start to live a life where the skies are always grey and in your head you’ve already decided to fail before you’ve even started.

The nocturnal lifestyle.

Ever wondered what it is about University that makes you stay up until the early hours of the morning even when you don’t go out? I’ve always questioned what the hell makes me stay up until 4AM when I know I have a 9AM lecture that day; and let me tell you, running on four hours is not a healthy, nor fun experience.

I suppose the first and most obvious answer for any student would be the excessive amount of drinking that actually goes down during the week. Of course you tell your parents little white lies about how you only go out once a week at the weekends, when in reality you’re partying three or four days of the week until the early hours of the morning– thus altering your sleeping pattern in the foreseeable future. It’s a hard habit that most students can never break because they love partying a little too much, but it’s university right? You have to learn how to balance a social life with a work life, those who don’t indulge in the full experience are most definitely missing out. Why move away from your parents to be 100% sensible? Of course there’s limits to your recklessness so downing a liter bottle of vodka to yourself is never a wise choice, but first year especially you’re meant to be a crazy little mess! That’s how it all starts, the late nights and the late rises unless you have an early start… Then you start questioning your sanity when you slip in and out of consciousness during lectures and even walking to and from them. To sum it up: we only have ourselves to blame.

The more educational response would be the all-nighters you pull in your bedroom or in the library because you’ve left your deadline work until the last minute, or you’re cramming for an exam that determines whether or not you pass into your next year at University– and in the back of your mind you know that if you fail this exam or the submission work everybody that has faith in you will realise how much of an idiot you are and will be severely disappointed in you. You stay up all night with coffee/redbull, sugary treats and the pressure of knowing your work is due soon whilst forcefully pushing every bit of knowledge into your mind for the exam, or onto the paper before you for your essay which you’ve successfully been evading for weeks like a creepy ex-partner.

Don’t even get me started on the influence your new friends have on you. Of course you meet an entire new group of friends during your first year; it’s exciting and nerve-wrecking all at once. You become a little bit addicted with spending all your time together, constantly in each other’s rooms, eating together, sleeping together (in some cases, literally) and drinking together. Naturally you want to stay up late and bask in each other’s presences while the feelings are still new, because it makes you feel a little less freaked out about being so far away from home. That’s when you stop even checking time because you’re just enjoying being with each other too much to care that you have a very important lecture tomorrow morning that you have to attend, because being with some awesome friends seems like a better option. So by 3AM, you’re still chatting away trying to ignore the creeping feeling of fatigue.

It’s a tough life learning to balance social/work. Even now during my second year it’s been a struggle– knowing the work I submit this year actually counts towards the reason I came here in the first place, my degree. Yet inside me lives that little party animal that wants to go out drinking five times a week. Will it ever get easier?

How social networking sites ruin your life and your university degree.

Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram and whatever other social networking sites that are in the world– the reason for so many problems in this universe.

Let’s all sit back and take a moment to think about what the world would be like if social networking didn’t exist. Peaceful? Boring? Who knows; it’s so heavily integrated into our lives now the thought alone sends shivers up our spines. Both children and adults alike are influenced by what’s going on in the world of the internet; I myself as a girl with an insatiable need to tweet have suffered at the cruel hands of social networking.

When you go out, it’s usually considered rude to be on your phone– but now it seems acceptable to turn into the anti-social weirdo whenever you’re out because you simply cannot resist the urge to have a cheeky check of your facebook or twitter to see if anybody has liked your status or retweeted your tweet. I do it constantly without even thinking about it, like second nature.When I was out with my family for a meal to say goodbye as I headed off back to University it stunned me to look around and see how many people were simply scrolling through their phones instead of conversing with the people they were with– I couldn’t count the amount on both hands Has socializing really reached the point where we have to hide behind our phones and keyboards?

It’s known that Facebook has  caused multiple break ups and even divorces. Jealous partners stalking their other halves to see if they’ve been getting up to anything naughty, even reaching levels such as hacking their account to read their direct messages. If that were me, I would think that I’d gone completely nuts. Your life simply isn’t private anymore, every aspect of your life is now under the eyes of all of your scrutinizing Facebook ‘friends’. I know it sounds a tad harsh, but everybody secretly agrees. The moment someone posts something which may be a little inappropriate, some will applaud their humour whilst others go on rampages to try and destroy them with their keyboard warrior combat skills. It’s a vicious place.

Let’s be honest here, everything on these sites is complete crap. Most of the time people talk about false rumours, or how that girl looks soooooo fat in her new profile pic. This can also lead to false information being spread, causing widespread panic if it sounds serious, and even thousands of people calling the police in fear when there’s nothing actually going on. If it’s not on the news or in the paper, then it probably never happened.

Let’s also talk about how future employer’s will be able to view everything you’ve ever posted. If you party too much, take drugs, sleep around or have a crazy addiction to candy crush and you constantly post about it, they WILL see it. How on Earth do you plan on getting a job when they know every dirty detail about you?! I feel this is a breach of privacy, your social life and work life are two different things.

Onto University. In my opinion social networking rots my brain and fills it with nonsense that I obviously don’t need, taking up valuable space where useful degree information could go. From multiple studies it seems that social networking not only wastes your time but actually lowers your grades. Furthermore, it takes your brain fifteen minutes to resume normal mental tasks such as coursework after you’ve checked your facebook or twitter page, and my impatience doesn’t work well with that– usually resulting in me giving up on the work and slumming it on twitter for the next seven hours.

Everybody must have heard of tumblr. It’s a dark place if you follow the right people, usually exposing you to things that will freak you out. Young children like my little sister also use this website, so she’s probably viewed a porn video by now. Yet it’s so addictive you always end up back there reblogging photos of your favourite band and silently praying for a cleaner timeline. It exposes younger generations to things that we would rather they didn’t see yet– tainting their purity and innocence.

Cyberbullying. A cankerous root in social networking sites. Something that causes pain for people who already feel insecure about who they are, committed by people who probably have problems in their lives and make themselves feel better by dragging someone else down with them. This has led to many suicides and also self-harming, listening to the news I’ve heard many suicide cases where they were bullied online, when all they wanted was to be accepted.

So, could you imagine a world where social networking doesn’t exist? Having to speak face to face? Having to leave behind your keyboard warrior days and enter the land of the living? As much as social networking has brought negativity into the world, I reckon the we’re all doomed to fall as victims to the hands of Facebook and Twitter.

Procrastination: University’s deadliest sin.

We all have them; we all hate them. They are the bane of student existence and the reason why we worry ourselves into not sleeping. Just days before our work is due we all probably just lay there at three in the morning and ponder on why we’re such failures and why we can’t have photographic memories or the ability to write at William Shakespeare’s level. However, I can safely say that we also bring this on ourselves by going through what I think should be considered a sin for University students: PROCRASTINATION. 

To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.
To postpone or delay needlessly.
     Unfortunately, both definitions above relate to me. I’m careless until put under pressure, which is why days before deadlines and exams you’ll find me cooped up inside my room freaking out with hundreds (slight exaggeration) of revision notes surrounding me. The thought of socializing no longer exists; even the thought of taking a break to eat, pee or shower disturbs me. However this entry isn’t about working under pressure, it’s about all of us the few weeks before the due date.
     I put the ‘pro’ in procrastination. In the past two weeks alone I’ve caught up from series one of American Horror Story, made numerous trips to the co-op down the road and even cleaned my absolute pig state of a room– TWICE. And honestly? I reckon students do it because they secretly love the drama. The majority of us are teenagers who like living recklessly surrounding themselves with a shit load of drama that they claim to ‘hate’, but secretly thrive off of it in the privacy of their own rooms. I’m no saint when it comes to this either, but sometimes the drama of it just makes everything that little bit more exciting.
     However, there are many other reasons behind procrastination: such as the project you’re taking on just looks a little intimidating, you feel inferior to the work you’ve been set and have already decided that you can’t complete it– so logically you put it off and decide that suddenly your laundry must be done. Hours later you’ll go back to it and tell yourself that it’s important… Suddenly you realize you’re behind on so many programs and wait– what’s this? A whole new program that’s so irresistible you simply cannot scroll past!
     Another reason: and this explains me perfectly is the inability to make decisions. I can’t for the life of me decide what to do and when to do it, driving me to stress and freak out– ultimately meaning the work never gets done. I’ve also never been able to categorize what task is more important than the other, leading me to try and complete multiple tasks simultaneously. It never works out well. You drive yourself crazy over work which ultimately leads to an attack on your immune system– leaving you feeling down right shitty with the flu or some crazy infection.
     Of course, as the definition states laziness is a key reason why procrastination exists. It’s strange however that suddenly when you’re meant to be doing this insanely important piece of work to the best of your ability, everything that you couldn’t be bothered to do before (chores mainly) becomes the main focus in your life. I can’t stress enough how immaculate my room was once I was through with it– even organizing it, taking my clothes out of draws to make sure they were properly folded. To prove my level of habitual laziness, I’m willingly admitting that this blog was made to avoid doing my work. I’m doing an English and Creative Writing course, my work being for the latter on my sandwich course– I had a Short story to hand in. However, my mind simply cannot be creative with work at hand when asked. I don’t know if that’s the secret rebel within me trying to screw me over, but I really can’t bring myself to the task; even though I’ve been writing since the beginning of my teenage years.
     Some people honestly cannot help procrastinating. Concentration for some people is short-spanned; there mind begins to wonder when it’s time to get serious. It’s almost as if it’s mocking you, trying to rile an argument out of you of some sort. The mind is quite cruel. This is probably linked with boredom, the inability of taking on a task and working through regardless of the fact of whether it’s interesting or not– and for most university students: that’s always.
     There are some ways of pushing through the barrier. Mainly it’s positive thinking, instead of telling yourself that you’re a massive failure and that the only future you have lined up for yourself is stripping or other degrading jobs, tell yourself that the task before you has to be done and you CAN and WILL complete it to a high standard. It’s not hard. Be realistic– set aims that are hard but obtainable. Don’t over-work yourself, give yourself the occasional break here and there to stuff your face and to relax. Maybe go for a walk to clear your mind. Anything to help you de-stress.
     Like Pavlov and his dogs, condition yourself! When you do something right reward yourself with something! Maybe do 45 minutes of hard work and reward yourself with more food that will fatten you right up– but who cares? Close to everyone gains weight a university from eating crap which you know is no good for you. But you deserve it from all the hard work you’re putting in to beat your weakness– and the ultimate sin.
     Ever let your level of procrastination/habitual laziness rise to a ridiculous level? Well let me know with a cheeky comment, let’s all bask in the pain of our failures together!

Nights out at University: the stages.


          When you’re at home, you always say ‘go hard, or go home.’ You think nights out back there are the heaviest ones you’ll ever have– until you reach university. It’s like a whole new playing field, the boys are football players trying to score all night and the women are either bitching or falling to the floor because they’re ‘white girl wasted’. Together they congregate at the watering holes (bars dotted around the establishment to destroy our livers that little bit more) and create a frenzy of drunk hormones and mindless chatter which in the morning you will have no recollection of. Personally, I love it.

     So let’s start with pre-drinks. You’ve bought a 70cl bottle of vodka for yourself, and it’s considered unacceptable if you don’t drink at least half of it before you step out of your house. Of course it goes down a treat when you’re playing life-destroying games such as ‘Ring of Fire’, ‘Taxi’ or ‘F**k you’, you’re basically drinking after every other word because of the obscene rules made throughout, or the cards are just not agreeing with you that day (memories of taxi when the cards gave me seventeen gulps to take consecutively– I didn’t make it out that night).
Now you’ve reached stage two of your night out, you and all of your friends are disgustingly drunk and there’s the odd one throwing up outside your house or in your toilets and sinks, claiming that ‘they’ll be fine they just need more alcohol’. All thoughts of being a student has left your mind and you’re all set to be Bill Gates for the night. You clamber into the taxis booked and off you go to your club of choice. There, you usually face a queue you’ll be standing in for about half an hour; shivering your bollocks off and praying sobriety doesn’t hit again. You fumble around for your ID’s and wallets/purses trying to look like you’re not seeing triple of everything. This is where you’ll meet the longest thirty seconds of your life– the bouncer looking back and forth between the picture of your fifteen year old self (I was personally going through a dark stage and looked like the demonic girl from ‘The Ring’) and hoping he doesn’t ask for your birthday because right now you can’t even remember your own name.

     By now you may have lost a couple of people who 1) are still throwing up at your house or 2) were escorted off of the premises by the bouncers for being too drunk; what did they really expect though at a club on a student night? But hoorah! You’re inside and are making a beeline for the bar to further inebriate yourself with a load of double vodkas and raspberry sambucca shots which always seems like the greatest idea at the time. Of course you all have to wait as long as it takes a woman to pick an outfit for that night with matching accessories and shoes, and with people as desperate as you to guzzle down more alcohol things start to get a little rowdy. Boys a little too big for their boots (probably making up for lost inches downstairs) start taking liberties; grabbing your ass and telling you how they’d be the best night of your life when you clearly have no interest in being slobbered on; they usually meet your lesbian lover that you’ve been with for thirty seconds at that point (you tend to have two or three by the end of the night). Finally you reach the front, order for yourself and all of your friends, pass your debit card over (which may I add, does make it feel like you’re not spending any money at all– it’s a dangerous road to go down) and start downing like your life depends on it.
     Dancing is your next stage. Well, ‘dancing’. By this point any idea of being normal, seductive or alluring when you’re dancing becomes a thing of the past and you’re just throwing yourself around like you’re possessed with your eyes shut and your mind spinning in circles. You hug your friends continuously and claim how much you ‘love them’ and how ‘life without them now simply wouldn’t be worth living’. Here, another one or four of your comrades may run off to the loo quickly to throw up some more, or may not even make it that far and throw up on the dancefloor, in the club’s reception and/or beside the bar, with the occasional puke bomb going off behind the DJ booth… Of course to drown out the taste of puke you have to buy more alcohol, that’s always the right answer.
From that moment onward, your night becomes a black hole filled with lost memories, puking, kissing here and there and stumbling home afterwards– and wondering the next morning how the hell you made it home in one piece and managed to slip on your onesie before climbing into bed without a single scratch or bruise on your body. To this day, students will always have questions about nights out that they will NEVER find out the answer to; but where’s the fun if you do remember?