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May 17, 2015 | by  | in The Moan Zone |
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Five days till the weekend

It’s the beginning of a new week. We’re sure that you have already promised yourself that you will do your readings, attend all of your lectures, start that assignment, climb Everest and save the world from “global warming”. But we’ve known each other a while now, so let’s be honest with each other. You are only counting down the minutes till you can do that one thing that uni hasn’t failed to deliver on yet: getting rinsed, trollied, wankered and goated. (Man I really hope important people aren’t reading this. That reminds me, head to our Facebook page to find out absolutely no details about who we really are—Tom and Luke are our aliases; we are actually two girls from Vic House.)

If you haven’t analysed a typical Friday (if you are loose) or Saturday night, then don’t worry, because we have:

4.00pm: So you’re coming back from your last Friday lecture that you didn’t pay any attention to, but it’s Friday so you were probably too excited about the weekend that you ended up missing them all. Guys will hit the gym to get a nice pump that won’t last the trip back from the Mill.

5.00pm: Girls are still currently doing work because they actually want to get somewhere in life. Guys are already four Cindies down because there’s no bouncers down in the dining room.

6.00pm: Apparently it takes four hours to get ready for town if you’re a girl. Guys know that the trick to a good night is not how good you look but how far you can’t see in front of you. So they’re still roaming around on their office chairs wearing nothing but shorts.

7.00pm: By now the boys’ bathroom bin is full with more empty cans than the girls will drink for the rest of the evening. Girls have started listening to that gangsta music that will convince them that they are tough despite that $200 Ecoya sitting next to that iPhone 6+.

8.00pm: By now it’s time for the girls and guys on the floor to get together and discuss all the work that the guys haven’t started yet. By now that guy on your floor is suggesting there’s a “party” that just so happens to be on the same floor as that fit girl he’s trying to get into.

10.00pm: Where the hell did 9 o’clock go? That often happens. In a similar fashion to Dementors (Rowling, ages ago, Harry Potter) the RAs are now sifting through the floors, starting from the top, kicking you out of your expensive accommodation. If you’re onto it you would have discovered the concept of “Anne Franking”: that is, turning the music off, locking the door and seeing how many drunk people you can fit into one dark quiet room.

Tip of the week: If the RAs knock while you’re Anne Franking, strip down to your undies and answer the door pretending you’ve just been asleep.

Your favourite goons,

Tom and Luke

P.S. if you have anything you want us to write about message us on our Facebook page, Luke’s thinking of brushing up on his poetry if we can’t think of anything and trust me you don’t want to be subjected to that. It’s worse than coming back from a psychology lecture and realising you live in Vic House.

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