"LESBIAN" MAULS BLOGGER!

Just a quick reminder before today's lesson, kids:

Angelica does NOT, under ANY circumstances, AT ALL, rhyme with "fannylicker".


Case Study: #257

Heriot Watt University, Robin Smith Halls, G30.
aka: Lornas Room.

I'm sitting there, on the bed, speaking away to Lorna and her friend Angelica. The conversation's lulled a bit, so to inject a bit of humour, I say the now immortal...
"Angelica... you know what rhymes with your name?"
"What?"
"Fannylicker!"

After a small bout of "LOL"ing at my immaturity, and a wee bit of "ROFL"ing at the fact it was a crap rhyme, I said it again. And again. Because, you understand, I was bored, and trying to amuse myself. I didn't, however, account for the reaction it may finally gain. What. A. Reaction.


She dived on me, and started trying to claw my eyes out! Of course, I reacted fairly quickly, spun her round, and held her up in the air using my arms and legs. It wasn't enough. She started clawing at my forearms, and almost bit a chunk out of my right arm, so I let go, and she stood up. I thought it was over.

Far from it: She hauled me up (an impressive feat, considering I'm quite strong, and reasonably heavy!), and tried to lift me off the ground and bodyslam me into the wardrobe!

"Fuck this", thought I.
"Fuck YOU" screamed she.

After she gave up trying to throw me into the air, she settled... for punching me in the face! She kept ploughing into my head, and caught me in the left ear at one point. I was blocking the punches with my forearms (which probably caused her a fair bit of soreness the next day or so...), but she seemed to be hellbent on destroying me. I was incredibly surprised, looking back, that I hadn't kickedtheshitoutofher!

Finally, she calmed down, and I lay back down on the bed. Now, this was the exact moment I understood the phrase "Calm before the Storm."

She was sat opposite me on a chair, and I was half-lying down, relaxing on the bed. All of a sudden, without anyfuckingwarningwhatsoever, she picked up a glass and launched it at my face!

I swear to God, if my reactions were any slower, I would've ended up in A & E, with the nurses and kindly doctors taking shards of glass out of my face, instead of me ending up with just a sore knee, which had a fairly deep cut in it. Luckily, the glass didn't break!

This, people, is why no-one should evereverever tell a girl named Angelica that her name rhymes with "fannylicker"!!!

"What I really like about you".

On my way to Edinburgh to visit my brother this weekend, I was texting my girlfriend, and things took the usual lovey-dovey route of her saying "What I like about you is..."

Ordinarily, this would be fine, and I would take it all in my stride. However, I couldn't help but laugh at one point she mentioned.

"I like that even when ur incredibly drunk u dont get violent 4 no reason." [sic]

My inital reaction was "Roffle.", which may sound okay, but I was sitting on a bus, on my way to Edinburgh, and I was the only passenger making any sound at the time. The reason for my laughter, dear reader, shall become apparent very soon.

Two weeks ago, or less or more, I was invited as a plus-one to a party. Obviously, copious amounts of alcohol were consumed not only by myself, but also by everyone else there.
No, I don't blame peer pressure. Moving on... At this party, I drank approximately 8 cans of Strongbow cider before being asked by my friend to accompany him to the local Asda to buy some more alcohol. Naturally, I obliged, seeing as I am eighteen, and he is not. So, off we trotted, slightly giddy from our previous drinks, but not nearing the tipsy or drunk stages. We bought three crates of tennents, and then raced back to the "venue" with our crates of lager still on the trolley that we had decided to snaffle, thus saving us actually using any energy in transporting the drinks.

Back at the party, Kenneth the underager and myself decided to open our tins, and drink and drink and drink. Now, 3 crates of 20 lagers = 60 lagers. We consumed between 20 and 30 of these between ourselves. And we ended up fuckdrunk. The stories relayed to me the following morning were rather humourous, as were the texts I had sent during my drunken stupor. But my favourite story had to be this:

At some point during the night, I had apparently gotten rather annoyed with my female friend, who was staggering, and falling, all over the place from when she arrived. Couple this with the fact that she had been off with me for the past week or so you know how us teenagers are... in the lead-up to this party. So, these factors led to me being somewhat of a Grumpy Bear. And by Grumpy Bear, I mean absolute cunt to everyone. But mainly her.

That's not the funny part. Here it comes:

After having gone outside for a breath of fresh air, and then making a snidey comment to her drunken self, I found myself lacking in beer, and having an abundance of rage within me. So, what did I do?

I opened a can of beer, spotted a male whom I donotlike and then proceeded to LAUNCH the can of Tennents at him. Now, I know what you're thinking - "I bet that hurt." No! It did NOT hurt him! For it landed right at his feet, before absolutely SOAKING him in warm lager!

And this, my friends, is exactly why I Roffled at the mention of me not getting violent when I am "incredibly drunk".

Tune in next week, for more posts. =]