Uni Vs Work

Beeeeeeeep, beeeeeep, beeeeeeep. Arrrgggghhh! No surely I have more time yet, I have only just got to bed!. Short Arse slowly reaches across to her alarm and turns it off, suddenly realizing it is 8:50am, F*$%K!.
She nose dives out of her bed to find that there are no clean knickers as washing day costs money, effort and precious sleeping time. Bloody hell!
Bursting for a wee, she hopps to the toilet to find that not only has her mate's boyfriend left the toilet seat up (again), he also made no attempt to aim drunkenly last night as the cold floor was found to be wet. Maaaaaatttttttt!!!!!!.
Sarah, her other mate across the way, walks into the toilet with poodle hair, to find Short Arse still on it and cursing due to the fact that Matt has also taken all the toilet paper.
Sarah, got any tissue?
Errr no mate.
Bollocks.
So she jumps up and down for a bit, and allows Sarah to have her religious morning stinky shit, (What, with no bog roll? - DJ Ess) claiming that it is Kosher to start the day on a clear head. (Or something….?)
Squealer (named due to loud sexual activities in her room) had her usual music blairing out and all three late, hungover, tired, and zombee looking lasses stumble out of their rooms, still slightly drunk, trundle to the dreaded 9am lecture on Genetics.
Ok! What we will be basing the next four hours on is………..
What? (Short Arse moans) four hours! That is ridiculous! How do the expect us to go on…………..Mumble, mumble…..
Shhhhh Sarah says trying to shut her up. Knowing that she was going to complain like every other day.
Hardy har……….uhhhh, no Dr Lycett that really was not a funny joke at all.
Unfortunately he always did this, trying to make genetics slightly interesting by introducing the un funny jokes half way through the lecture to wake a few students from their sleep.
Soon most people realise the lecture is too much for them the morning after a hard evening's drinking, and start to amuse themselves.
Uhhh? Wossssaaattt? Short Arse looking slightly confused by the fact that a flying ball of paper, hardened with copious amounts of tippex happened to hit her on the forehead followed by an attack by Lucie with a 30cm ruler.
Bullseye!!! Shouted the lads across the way.
From then on, the whole of the next lecture involved revenge which was descreet until Short Arse's army got carried away….
Ready? 3…..2……1……FIRE!
Many balls of paper stripped from Sarah's note pad were launched in one go, allowing for error……
Do we have anyone who would like to contribute to that last comment over here?…….Bugger, Lycett had seen us.
Fortunately one of the boys were surprisingly intelligent, and windled their way out of the humiliation of 150 pairs of eyes looking at us, with a stream of gibberish that Lycett was impressed with.
Cheers Ali.
Yeah, cheers!
Wossit worth darlin'………You could help me with MY genetics in my room if you like.
Uhhh….no, thanks all the same.

Later that day……

Oi, get out of the bloody shower! There are three of us to use that thing you know.
Vain Lucie slowly makes her way out of the bathroom, and both Sarah and Short Arse make a run for it however, after a bit of pushing and shoving in the doorway, Sarah pops into the bathroom and Short Arse ends up rickosheing down the corridor.
Christ mate, you should be on the rugby team with us. Short Arse says picking herself off the floor and observing the bruises.
'Am in the moooood for dancin'…….. 'Romancin………dah, dah, dah, dah,dah,dah,dah.
Oi shut it, or I'l shut it for ya Sarah says in her best Hemmel Hempstead accent to Short Arse.
Come on Lucie, or the bar will be bloody closed by the time you have finished looking at yourself in the mirror!
Coming! She says bounding out her room.

In the bar……..

Hello! Giles says greeting us with his usual shocked to see you style.
Hey that rubber hurt, it went in my eye. Short Arse moaned looking for a bit of sympathy.
Ohhhhhh, sorry mate, we cant have you hurt can we?
Ohhh, here they are girls……..Short Arse comments on how sexy the two blokes are strutting their stuff towards the bar.
Y'know I recon I have a better chance than you guys, as they played rugby with me yesterday, and complemented me on my playing……ha!
No, they like a girl to be elegant…..Lucie comments.
No, they like a girl with a bit of bone…Sarah says.
The rest of the evening was spent drinking large amounts of snake bite and black, lager, or (for lucie) one gin and tonic. The pool game was thoroughly entertaining watching both sarah and lucie amusing everyone, with the fact that the white ball was a challenge to hit.
Hey, were trying! Lucie moans….
Come on luv, get it in the hole…..if you know what I mean….This was followed with many further comments on all players by the blokes.
Unfortunately, during this calculation, James had come around the corner in his lab coat to reveal nothing underneath.
Hey, do you like my sexy tights?……..And with that followed another mate who picked up Jen's drink and emptied it over James' head.
Arrrrrggghhh! It's cold! He then attempted to rugby tackle him and in consequence ended up outside on the floor beside the lads that were trying to make some poor drop out drink a funnel.
He's from SB, he's true blue……He's a piss pot through and through……He's a drunken so they say, tried to go to heaven but he went the other way……so down, down, down, down, down, down……..
The bloke was then trying very hard to drink the 3 pints or so from the funnel, however once half of it was down his front, he added to that with some vomit.
Hooray!……The blokes cheered as they were satisfied with a good job done.

Meanwhile…..

Am gonna kick yo ass! Short Arse feeling slightly drunk and wet from a serving of blue cocktail down her back, nicked some bloke's pint and hurled it in the direction of Matt.
Aaaaahhhh! Unfortunately the pint missed him and got Steve, who then after dumping a pint of her snake bite and black over her front, proceeded to pick her up and do a ceromonial slamdunking outside on the grass.
Eventually the last orders bell rang, to the discust of many students, and Short Arse left the grass to go and find someone interesting to speak to.
See ya later, Lucie said as she went back to her room to have yet again loud sex with Matt that keeps the neighbours awake….
I'm gonna find Sssssarah, Short Arse slurred, as she swayed off in the direction of the shooting machine, which was the place where sarah could always be found.
Awight mate?
Well, seeing as I am rather hammered, yeah, bloody excellent, however at this moment in time I don't think my legs can work.
Come on mate, we can go and find someone interesting to find….They both led eachother outside and weaved through the hall buildings in a random fashion.
Spiney Norman….spiney Norman…Where are you?
Hey, Sarah I think I've found a hedgehog to speak to…..And with that, Sarah was pulled towards the hedge. Short Arse stumbled, then managed to suspend herself in the bush.
Uh…mate, give us a hand….However Sarah couldn't stop laughing and offered her hand only to be pulled into the bush aswell.
After the fits were over, there was the place they stayed whilst talking to the non-existant hedgehog for a number of hours……..

So, Short Arse says you should go to university, then? Hah! I've already been at school for 13 years, that's, like, one sixth of my life. Do I want to go for another four years? Do I really want to be talked down to for a quarter of my life? No, I do not.
Okay, to give it it's due, university isn't that bad. I've been to visit X-Files many a time and had good fun. The parties are cool, you make lots of new friends, beer's really cheap, and the life is, quite frankly, piss easy. Very few university courses are harder than A-levels, so it's generally a four-year doss. Fair enough, I don't have a problem with that. In fact, some of my school days were nothing more than six hours of basketball on the playground. But how about going to work?
Well, yes, it certainly does suck sometimes. You have to get up early everyday, there are always going to be people who tell you what to do, you maybe have to dress the way they tell you, and you might get a job that absolutely sucks. I have had jobs where I would rather drink a pint of someone else's cold vomit than go to work, but then you can get good jobs as well.
Lets take my buddies at Maindec. It just so happened that they took up the warehouse unit next to where my Dad works, and he told them that I would be a good engineer. Along I went for an interview, and whoomp, I had the job. I turned up for my first day and they started to hand shit out to me. I got a car (Ronnie! My baby!), a credit card for petrol, a electronic tool kit, a mobile phone, and a laptop computer, all for just turning up. My job was to travel to offices and repair computers or printers, stuff like that. I used to travel all over the country, and visit offices from little grain stores to huge multi-national companies. In the holidays, I used to pick up X-Files in the morning and we'd travel about together, race rude boys (and win), generally have a laugh. And for this, something I enjoyed doing, what did the do every week? They gave me over 3 ponies. For having a laugh in the office, playing Settlers 3 on my Laptop, or visiting high security area's at huge businesses (You know it's cool when you meet the bloke in the lift, he puts a key in the wall, opens a little door up and presses a button no-one else can get to, marked down, when you are already on the ground floor). Within a month I had far more money that I knew what to do with, so I started up High SpiritS.
The social life may be cheaper at Uni, but in proportion, beer is far cheaper when you are working because you have more money to spend. University beer tastes rank, anyway, and Enigma sell a pint of Fosters for 2 dollor on a Friday.
So, do I want to be a penniless, scruffy, hungry little monkey who counts his coppers to see if he has enough money for a half of disgusting, warm, watery lager, while some crumbly, patronising old git tries to teach me shit that I already know, and riding my bike around in the freezing wind?
Or do I want to be in cash whenever I need it, treating all my mates to a pint of Stripe, having a laugh with a boss who takes us down to the pub every Friday, driving around in a £28,000 car?
Hmm.
Screw University.