A day in the life of...

The young have something no one else has or ever will have. Time.

It's true. We are smart, beautiful and...alcoholic.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

"Did I not tell you that I'm not like that girl, the one who, throws it all away"

Poor, naive, innocent L.

She got into a massive panic the other day about going prematurely grey and the fact that, although her hairdresser dyed her hair a couple of months ago her hair was more salt than pepper. As in, she was noticeably grey. In her twenties. A, always the best giver of advice (yeah, right) told her to shut the fuck up and just pick up some dye at the chemist. Apparently A has been grey for years but no one notices because she dyes it every couple of weeks. Maybe it's a law student thing. Stress.

Anyway, unlike A, L has no idea how to dye hair. Luckily for her, J agreed to do it. Little known fact: J fancies herself as a bit of a hairdresser. Back in high school she convinced M she was awesome at cutting hair and 'gave her a trim'- which resulted in M having massively uneven hair and having to get her mum to spend a fortune at hairdressers fixing it up. She was also the genius that suggested burning off split ends. Um...no. She also managed to fuck up H's hair completely once but somehow H pulled it off because she was just that cool. L? Not so. Not she isn't cool it's just...she's not.

L is now currently sporting half black half reddish brown half grey (yes that's 3 halves, but who's counting?) hair which looks like a disaster. It is obvious. And she feels like she can't even tell J because J is surprisingly sensitive about her hair skills. What a disaster.

In order to make herself feel better she took herself out for post exam drinks. Well, A and her uni friends took her out. L decided she needed a way to stop making people look at her hair so she tied it up messy bun style and wore a super short, super low cut (and L has assets) bright purple dress with red lipstick. You can guarantee no one noticed the fuck up job on her scalp. Anyway after a few tequila shots, a few beers, a few wines, a few appletinis and a few more tequila shots, L vanished. Everyone assumed she'd snuck off to hook up (not really L's style, but every guy in the place was hitting on her) and continued their drink and dance off. About an hour later A received a semi-hysterical phone call from L saying she was in a taxi somewhere in the suburbs and could A meet her at her house to pay for the taxi because she had no money and it was apparently a long drive back to town. No one wants to end up in Ferntree Gully. A decided to move the party back to L's place (thank god her mum is on a business trip) and met A outside her house babbling and looking extremely distressed.

Apparently L had met a lovely fellow earlier, they had chatted a bit and he had suggested they go for a drink elsewhere. L eagerly agreed. A just looked at L and said 'you mean he wanted his next drink to be out of your arse?'. L ignored her. Despite the fact that said guy had been making out with her and feeling her up in the taxi (and trying to get her to feel him up although she wasn't going there in a semi-public setting) L was still convinced they were just off to another pub. Until she realised she'd been in the car about half an hour, they were no where near the city of any other pubs, and the taxi was pulling up in front of a house. The guy was practically ripping L's dress off in the street and telling her he wanted to fuck her. L had a major freakout, yelled at him 'I thought we were going for a drink!' and ran. Bolted. Got into a taxi and gave him her address before realising she was in the middle of bloody nowhere and couldn't afford to get home.

Luckily A had cash. And had sent friends down the street for more tequila.

But honestly L, when you got into the cab with the touchy feel guy how did you not know what he was after?