TCD Miscellany III

For those poor souls out there who can’t pick up the latest TCD Miscellany, I’m posting my article up here. You can read first my first one here, and the second here. I urge you all to check out the whole magazine on miscellany.ie.

Enjoy.

“So that was Christmas.

I love Christmas, I really do. But this year it really made me realise how old I’ve gotten.

I was the last person in my family to get up on Christmas morning. I’m the youngest in the family. What’s happened to me? I was shouted at by my family to go downstairs and open the presents with them. I grumbled and staggered out of bed, covering up the unwanted morning erection with a dressing gown.

Down I went. Opened up the presents that I’d bought myself. They give me the money, I buy my presents. My parents wouldn’t understand the presents I want. For the record, and this is for all you fine ladies out there, I did get myself a sexy little external hard drive. I can hear you all swooning already. So if any of you want to swap data sometime, or maybe just backup your current hard drive, just form an orderly queue and I’ll see what I can do. Be patient though doll-face, I’m packing a whole extra terabyte of storage now, so I’m really fighting the bitches off.

So I already knew what all my presents were – bar one. It was socks. Remember when we were young and would look at our presents with awe and amazement? Well I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. I’m there looking at my socks for several minutes, pretending to be interested in them. 100% cotton, wow! I love socks, I’m always wearing them so I am, how did you know?

Even in the build-up to the holidays, I noticed myself aging.

I had to buy a new pair of jeans. I haven’t shopped in so long. I can’t bear it at all anymore. There’s too many people around. All of them ambling along without a care in the world. Don’t these people realise I’ve told my Mam I’ll be home by six pm for the lasagne? I’m fucked if I’m reheating it.

Back in the days when I cared about my appearance, I’d buy jeans based on how good they looked. Mincing around the fitting room, checking myself from all angles. Ooh, do these make my arse look a bit plump? How’s my crotch bulge looking in ‘em?

Not now though. All I care about now is getting the jeans with the biggest pockets. I was there checking the pockets of all the jeans in the shop, not caring how they look. As long as they’re not too flamboyant or anything, I’m happy. So that’s two things I now require in jeans: big pockets, and zero flamboyancy.

The SU had a big end of term frat party organised. I read the description, about drinking games, beer pongs, and bangin’ choons and that sort of thing. A year ago I’d have eaten that right up. I’d have been all enthusiastic, looking forward to it all week, making sure I got my mates to go.

This year I read about it and just thought to myself how it all sounds very loud. Nah, think I’ll stay home and watch the Late Late instead. Have some beans on toast or something. That’d be nice. Wait, who’s on Jonathan Ross tonight? Might give him a go instead. Fuck it, I’ll see. OH! I’ll pick up some sweets on the way home and all.

I’ve seen a few new events advertised around Facebook and the likes. Some of them are nights starting really early and they’re trying to sell it to us as not just partying the night away, but partying the day away too. Again, the Mark Walsh of one year ago would have jumped in with both feet. All day drinking? Right up my alley mate. Give it to me. Give me all the promiscuity, depravity and debauchery you can throw at me.

Now though, I just worry about if I went out drinking in the afternoon, then to a club in the evening, what’d I do if I need a poo? I don’t want to shit in a nightclub, up to my ankles in someone else’s vomit. Even if it was my own vomit I’d be less than pleased. And you’d want to line your stomach well by eating a lot during the day, to prepare for all the drinking. But sure then you’re only increasing the chances of having to do a nightclub poo. It’s a bloody nightmare. What if I got so drunk I didn’t realise how bad my need for a shit was? What if I literally shit myself and had to go home? I couldn’t walk onto a nitelink covered in shit. I don’t think a taxi would take me either. It just doesn’t bear thinking about. But these are the things that rush through my mind now, at the ripe old age of 19. Honestly, just pass me the Werther’s Originals already.

I do still go out. But often I find that about halfway through the night, I’m asking myself if I’d rather be at home, alone and playing Football Manager or something. In fairness though, the answer isn’t always yes.

Then there’s New Year’s. What a crock of shit. It’s one of those nights where YOU SIMPLY MUST DO SOMETHING AND HAVE FUN. I don’t think I’ve ever had a really good night on New Year’s. Last year the nightclub I was in actually forgot to do the countdown. So it was basically a regular night in there.

I know 2010’s going to be good anyway. I know this because I topped up my 30 days of free texts on the first of January. So basically I’ll just have to top it up at the start of every month from now on. No more confusion. No more being taken by surprise when you get that message telling your free texts are up. This, my friends, is living the dream.”

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