DAY 57: La Prostituta

Sometimes I feel like I´m a prostitute. Not because I ask people to pay me for sex (although that would come in handy given my current financial situation) but because when I go out for drinks I literally just stand around the streets waiting for someone to proposition me with flyers for free drinks. It sounds sad, and of course when I say this I´m not implying I do this alone, but it does actually work. So take last night for example, Andrew and I went out for some vino and got some free shots, some free drinks and a free shisha. We did, however,  have to pay for some of our drinks....what a pain :P. There´s this wine bar near Sol which gives you large glasses of wine for 1 euro a glass....so of course we ordered 2 each at the same time and poured one into another...we know how to play this game. Andrew and I also really know how to lower the class in any situation. There was a cute wee old British couple sitting in front of us who were obviously out to have a nice wee evening together. Without realising at first that they were in fact English, I started telling Andrew about a story I heard from Castle Leazes when I first arrived in Newcastle....I may as well repeat the story now for those of you who don´t know it:

"There once was a girl who went back with a guy after a night out to have a bit of fun. In the morning, she snibbed the door and went to the loo where she took a massive shit. Blocking the toilet, she (strangely) decided to fish out the poo with a plastic bag (I really don´t understand this...I personally would have just run...). She then proceeded to carry the poo in the bag to find a bin. On her way to the bin she went back into the guy´s room to pick up her things and leave and also wrote him a wee note saying something like ´Thanks for last night. I had fun. Here´s my number´(this a very polite girl)! She left the note beside his bed whilst he was sleeping and left, unsnibbing the door. Now of course us ex-leazes folk will remember the big drama of locking yourself out your room if the door is left unsnibbed. (Too many funny images of students having to go down to reception in their towels after forgetting their keys). So anyway, as she left, she suddenly realised she had left her bag of shit beside the note! What a lovely ´reward´ for the ´lucky´guy to wake up to after a night of drunken sex."

SO, yes I told Andrew this (far too strange and unrealistic to be true) story or "myth" in the bar and the old couple literally looked at me like a piece of filth. As I said, I really know how to bring down the class in any situation. Andrew and I downed our drinks and left.

Woke up this morning feeling a little bit ropey, but thats nothing some Irn Bru imported from Edinburgh Airport at the weekend can´t solve! I bought two bottles at W H Smith...you know...the little 2 for such a price offer that you get there....and drank one on my flight and "saved" the other one for Liz, who is also Scottish and who I´m sure also misses the bru (who wouldn´t?!). However, when I´m hungover, my thoughts for others just fly completely out the window, so sorry Liz, you can wait another month until the beautiful bright orange soda hits your lips again!

I was on Skype to my friend Felicity yesterday who asked me a very important question. "Sarah, do you actually do anything cultural, you know, besides going to work and drinking?" So this is embarrassing, no I don´t Felicity. No I don´t. What is my life? Uni sends you to a foreign country to learn a language and some culture....I´m really failing at life right now. It also makes me laugh how uni gives you money to go (not that I have received it yet). Surely they must know what most of that money is spent on? a...l...c...o...h...o...l. Saying that, my friend Rosie made a very important purchase with her grant...a wee designer handbag! Seriously, only Rosie would do this...bloody model. Andrew was also telling me last night about someone he knows who literally got a nose job with hers! When in Rome right?