I love the first day back at university. It's a full on bitch-fest. You are seeing people you haven't seen in almost a half year so of course everyone is very very critical. It's all about 'jesus she's gotten so fat' or 'her hair is so much better longer' and 'he's gone gay'. It's pretty exciting, especially when you see all the slags and fashion parade girls who look 10 times shitter than you, even though you know they spent a good 4 hours getting ready in the morning while you took a humble 4 minutes to throw on yesterday's clothes and whack your hair up in an elastic band. What I was more excited to see is whether the stinkin' minker would make a return to once again make another year completely cringeworthy as it hacks and splutters its guts up every 3 seconds, with throatfulls of flem and gob being spurtered in every direction. It's not pleasant. Nor is the smell that emanates from its every pore and is quite reminiscent of a diseased carcus of beef that's taken up residence within a chaity shop. And so it was with great regret that as I stumbled into uni this morning, eyes bleary from my illness over the weekend, that I saw it there. Or rather I heard it grunting from the back of the lecture room and felt it's loose spittle stick to my neck as I turned to squeeze into my chair. I was gutted. But then rather excited to see that it no longer attempts to dress in the way of a girl and has regressed back into it's faded combats and greasey hair and heavy boots stage. Ah there is a god. No longer will I have to look at it's appalling attempts of dressing like a girl in a shiny shirt which hurts the eyes and surely must hurt her boobs as there is no way those droopy tits are confined within a bra I tell you. People that gross should segregate themselves from society, or at least from my uni class because the smell it leaves behind is such a lingering one that it is causes later classes to bouk and gag as they enter the room. I think I feel sick again. Oh and there are lots of fatties hanging around that used to prime themselves on their ankles thinner than my pinky. It makes me feel so happy. Especially when they are still trying to squeeze their asses into the jeans they wore prior to going to Overeaters Camp over the summer. Bless.