Alright, so things have changed. For one, I have a rather large burn upon my left ankle due to an admittedly foolish desire to remember summer '08 through the medium of cigarette burns (then subsequently telling someone that "I ain't no bitch, light another, the burn's not big enough"). There's been no change in my maturity levels sadly (facial hair is slightly easier to acquire but your mum jokes are just as guaranteed to make me laugh (meaning giggle)). However, I have moved out of my comfort zone quite a bit. I'm in a different country at university (Boston College, in the USA. USA! USA!), which while an experience, isn't necessarily something I can see myself enjoying for 4 years.
Some things haven't changed, I still desire three things in life:
1) To know a little bit about everything in order to have something to talk about with everyone
2) To be sufficiently balanced, that when I say something, it means something
3) To try every alcohol in the world

I'm succeeding in number three.
coffee liquer? check. Absinthe? check. Port? check. Champagne? check, check check...
Number three occasionally gets you in trouble I will freely admit. Indeed, number three occasionally gets you in a great deal of trouble. Allow me to share with you the story of how I managed to get nearly thrown out of my previous institution of learning. Oh Eton...

When your high school has a game against its main rival, I think it's fair to say that you feel obligated to attend. When you're a graduating senior [B-block for the people in the know], it's nigh on mandatory to attend and support vociferously, which seems to entail a great deal of alcohol. If you're classy like all Etonians invariably are, that means 5 quid bottles of champagne, drunk out of pint glasses, of course. I suppose what it boils down to is that when you wake up on your Dame's [House Mother], couch, with the previous meaning being cheering on a friend at bat, it's a rather bad sign. However, on the plus side, it's unlikely that I'll be forgotten anytime soon at Eton. Besides one should always be thrown out of a first class stadium at some point.

So I'm landed at Boston College, and I'm meeting new people and I'm trying new things, (both with the right person, if you know what I mean. Yeah, you know what I mean ;) ). However, once my 21 year old korean roommate moved out, we had two new people move in. One, is a lovely person from North Pennslyvania and the other... well, he seemed nice. Going back to my third stated aim, I threw a minor shindig. Of course, my roommates are invited and as we make it into the wee hours of the morning, I note the shy roommate talking with the girl who's a slut when she's drunk (we all have those friends). 4 hours later when I'm on facebook, I see it's now FBO [FaceBook Offcial, where have you been?]. I eventually get the full story12 hours later. Slutty girl feels guilt over being slutty and goes on date where my roommate pulls out all his smooth moves, classics such as:
"Are we at the stage in our relationship where I should buy condoms"
"In high school, sometimes people would cut holes in the bottom of the popcorn box so they can get jiggy with it in the movie theater. Want to do that?"
"When you meet my family next week, you can't wear that coat because it displays your beautiful tits too much."

Needless to say, we call him baileys because he goes down so smooth.
I hit the blackjack on roommates, as I'm writing this my other one is at the infirmary due to overdrinking. R-E-S-P-E-C-T, that is what it means to me. My life can be summed up in one phrase at the moment:

"Elephants make the best jams, but the hippos are the marmalade masters."

Doesn't make sense? Neither does my life right now...

Loving the herons,

PK