On Being A Finalist

Well, this is it. The third and final year. Myself and my friends and now all officially finalists.

WHAT DA FUUUUU

I don’t know where the summer has gone; it’s been buried under a mass of ugly children’s shoes and my cat’s heavenly-soft fur. As always, it was lovely being able to spend time with the homegirls, also know as the bezzays or biatches or even the Chi High massive (yeah mate). We had a few boogies in Thursgays and many a drinky-poo in Wests. I went to Prague and Cambridge with the mother, and both trips were very pleasant.

However, though it was nice to chill and have a catch-up, I’m glad to be back. I’ve got my own little room in Reid (see pictures below) and despite the incredibly small bathroom and single bed, I quite like it. More than anything, I’m already enjoying being back on campus in the midst of things, and it will only get better once all of the uni crew return to frolic with me in our last Freshers’ (or Welcome) Week. I have a feeling it’s going to be CRAY CRAY, as the nomenclature goes.

I am feeling a little unprepared and intimated for the work that we’re going to do this year, and I can feel a touch of something foreboding in my loins (potentially caused by the Pot Noodle I had for lunch). It’s going to be a good year, but definitely “word hard, play hard”. After all, this is it. The beginning of the end. The big blowout. The final countdown.

Ohmagherd.