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good stuff thread.


nightwolf

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Good stuff:

After being a social recluse during exam season (that xbox isn't gonna play itself) I have nights out again!

 

Last night, tonight, tomorrow night, friday - all nights out!

 

In other good news my attempt at quitting smoking has been quite successful for the past month - only 4 cigarettes consumed in the whole of January. I found a really cool drink shop that must sell about 15-20 different kinds of gin, as well as a sweet shop that sells vanilla coke, amongst other 'murica related candies. As well as this, apparently there's a good chance at least a couple of my friends are finally going to visit me at uni. Better late than never I guess.

 

So nice to feel so good again after a good few weeks of exam-induced boredom/stress.

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explain your living arrangement.. i'm confused o_O

 

Presumably he lives in a house... with other people who have their own rooms?

 

Yeah, it's a house share. But the bedrooms are en-suite so the only place to bump into them is the hallway/stairs and the kitchen.

 

I met 1 guy (out of 5). He didn't seem that bothered to meet me. I get the impression that it's not a particularly sociable house. He's been here 7 months and has never met the guy in the bedroom next to him. He didn't say how long the guy had been there, but he didn't say "I haven't met him yet", or anything similar, so I'm guessing he's not new.

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Clearly the guy you met is the Howard of the building, and the guy in the room next to him is the Paul Lamb.

 

You're the Sabine, obviously. The older person who moved there from far away and who nobody likes.

 

Actually I'm the youngest (I think). Most of them are doctors so they must be older.

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I think I casually got offered a job earlier.

 

Basically I'm currently in the 'data quality' side of the wider student database team (the other team focusing on development). Had to speak to one of them about a problem that was going on and he was showing me some SQL and said "how would you fancy doing this?" and I assumed he was jokingly suggesting I should do it for him, but then he said "there's two positions going". Not an actual offer, obviously, but I think if I applied I'd be a shoe in.

 

Don't want to do it as I plan to hand in my notice in a few weeks anyway, but nice to be offered I suppose. Plus it's only a few hundred more than what I'm currently on :heh:

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Doctors don't 'work', so much as 'occasionally save lives in-between doing it like rabbits'. At least that's what TV has taught me.

 

Unfortunately, they only have sex with other doctors (occasionally they settle for nurses), so you're out of luck, Moogle.

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Cox's wife worked at the hospital in some sort of administrative capacity, so she was basically a doctor (I'm pretty sure that's how it works). And do we know for sure that Kelso's wife wasn't a doctor? :p

 

And if Sarah Chalke was on the table, that would make dinner very interesting.

 

You'd have to, sort of... eat around her.

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She was a board member who apparently worked about eight days a year :p And Kelso's was too fat to get around!

 

Unless it was that sushi dining where you eat of a naked person.

 

Enid was a nurse, as revealed in that slightly disturbing 60's flashback of Kelso with glorious sideburns.

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Got on the Underground (metro) in Shanghai today. Offered an old lady my seat, who promptly burst into tears of voluble gratitude (old lady, not the seat).

 

A lady gets on with her father in a wheelchair: he obviously has final stage Parkinson's and she's struggling to push the chair. Suddenly the chair collapses, the wheel has given out and the chair goes sliding all over. I grab it and stop the old gent from falling out. She panics and holds up the wheel, easy to see that the thread is loose so I grab the tape from my bag and lash the wheel back on. A long conversation about Parkinson's follows as well as the difficulties of caring for people. Off she trots.

 

Then I lean up against the door.... Next thing I know I'm being choked half to death by an eight-month-old baby with an iron grip on my scarf. I manoeuvre the scarf out of his chubby vice-like hands and he starts howling... Off with the scarf and back into the baby's hands. Cue one cheerful baby.

 

We pull up to my station and there's a loud "THUD" about halfway down the carriage: someone has fallen over. I push my way through the onlookers and everybody is all "no, don't help!" and I see the guy sprawling on the floor drunk as a skunk. I check his airway breathing, and circulation - all fine but he's out cold. No-one else is lifting a finger. I get him into a seat and luckily the station manager comes along and we drag him off the train so everyone can get on with their journey. Out I trot.

 

Next thing I know, I'm being mobbed by a bunch of locals gabbling at me in their heathen lingo. From what I gather, I've been a good boy.

 

Of course, now my legs ached from the hour of standing, my hands are smothered in wheel grease, I've got a cold neck and I stink like cheap booze.

 

I saved someone £2.50 per quarter today.

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