But then, maybe twenty-one is the age where things need to be toned down and "grown-up". After all, I'm well past the normal age for youngsters going out and getting off their tits on White Lightning and Special Brew. This particular generation seems to have been one in which the typical going-out age has declined rapidly. By that I mean that when I was thirteen, people didn't drink and party until they were at least twenty-three, yet now all the fourteen-year-olds are becoming fully qualified adults drinking everything, taking E and sprogging-'em-out like there's no tomorrow, all in the name of child benefit. In fact, it's got to the point now where I feel like such a failure at this age for not being a grandparent with liver failure. Instead I'm a typical student, supposed to be livin' it up and ting, getting wasted off my face and sleeping in 'til 2pm with a head that feels like one of them Masterchef contenders has taken a whisk to my brain to create a cannibal-scrambled-egg-special.
To be honest, though, I've been steering clear of the funny juice for reasons including lack of monetary funds... but you knew that already and quite frankly I'm sick of talking (writing) about being poor as I am sick of being poor. Not only that though; I've been a bit wary of certain drinks-of-choice that I don't really have a drink-of-choice anymore:
- Strongbow made it so I'd never have a healthy bowel-movement again; it's been months since I last touched the stuff and I'm still ejecting parts of my intestines what-ought-not to have been ejected anyway. Also it tastes bad.
- Bottles of WKD, VK, and other letters of the alphabet are supposed to be the staple of a student night out, but MMU Cheshire SU (more letters) hasn't got the memo about that. So while most Universities in the country flog 'em for a quid a pop, they end up robbing us of more pennies than a normal pint would. In fact, screw the country! It's like that in institutions the world over. Even in American fraternity and sorority houses, they're getting sugared-up and whacked-out for next to nothing in kappa-delta-theta (Greek letters).
- I'm even wary of the mix of vodka and any high-energy drink (for legal reasons I wish not to state any particular brands, but common ones tend to rhyme with Dead Dull, Contentness, and Asda’s own Blue Charge). This stems back to some pseudo-scientific rumour I heard a while back; since vodka (alcohol [a depressant]) slows down your heart rate and energy drinks (high in caffeine) make your heart go insanely fast, a mix of the two together causes the heart to get depressed and hyperactive at the same time, getting monumentally confused in the process, screaming, crying, giggling and ultimately not knowing what to do until it explodes in a fit of violent rage. Failing that, it reaches a point where it can no longer understand its purpose in life and takes a pistol from its breast pocket and fulfils its vow to "end it all" straight through the left ventricle.
So I've not been drinking for a while (except for last night, which, as you might've already gathered, is the reason for this bastard of a rant), mostly because I can't but also because I don't want to. I'm showing my age now (in this state of times, at least) by complaining about why anyone would ever want to wake up with a throat full of regret, the body of a sauna and a brain swimming in its own juices. That, plus I can't see the appeal in having your vital internal organs turn all bi-polar on yo ass.
Then again, if Charlie Sheen's taught us anything, they'd be bi-winning bi-taking-us-out-of-this-hell-hole.
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