Burning Tacos and growing mold. Sometimes at the same time.

My blog does not represent the views of Murdoch or any of its affiliates. All posts are NOT to be taken seriously and are written only for entertainment purposes.

Well, another study break has come and gone, another chance to catch up, another chance to see if you actually understand the unit, another change to see if you really can light a candle with natural expelled gas and match.

Or another chance to actually do something productive adjusting the layout of items in the fridge so the next person who opens it gets covered in bacon. Oh screw it, I'm going to go and open it, seriously, what is it like getting covered in BACON??!?

(3 minutes later)

NOW I SMELL LIKE AWESOME! And pig.

Anyways, the blog I present to you now depicts one of the more interesting possibilities of uni life, that is moving with a bunch of mates to a shared house to prove you are independent or getting the chance to leave the toilet seat up.

The move itself. 

My mate (Since the laws of probability caused the two of us geeks to share a geek computer class during high school. A total of five times.) had his parents help him move, they brought him lots of food, put it in my cupboard, dumped his bed in an empty room and ran off. Before he promptly re arranged all the furniture and then we ate all the food. And even then they were here two hours. So, this bit takes some time, regardless of how much help,  and although slightly monotonous is necessary and after doing the job is one of those few times where you can plomp onto a chair and nobody cares. But then they start telling you to get up cause there's furniture to bring in.

That night. Is always good. An excuse to binge on food, watch movies and then the option is yours to fight about who's going to clean up the mess or play your first game of strip poker/blackjack/uno/pick up sicks/hungry hungry hippos. FYI, don't play the last two without signing some sort of waiver.  

The day after, things get a bit more serious.

There's a lot to do, all the washing, cleaning and cooking is now your responsibility. There's unfortunately conflict, who ever your sharing with has got to learn your nuances, and you have to learn theirs. What duties do you share? Who pays for what? Who knows the number of the poisons hot line?

Just remember your with a mate, don't destroy your friendship over something little, if your getting sick of his post its everywhere, his obsession to make all the clocks say 5:42, his leaving the lid off the toothpaste tube (even though its a flip top, he takes the lid off WTF??)

I'm learning all this slowly but surely that I'm very poor to live with, and its a massive change from being on my own.

However I do offer to pay half the phone bill, so that helps. Living in a shared house is overall a good experience, the main advice I can give is someone you've been friends with for a long time and/or someone who knows you have foot odour.

Graffiti of the Week: (Written on our living room wall.) "Please do not expect computer help, we will just call you an idiot, if this message offends you, you are the idiot. Shopping list: Milk, eggs, more bacon (Why is all our bacon defrosting in a puddle of water in front of the fridge??), one of those plastic things that fits on the end of a hose. 

To that girl I'm stalking doing accounting: Read fine print. Seriously. Don't tell me you've "found another stalker" you signed a contract.

conGRADUATIONs.

My blog does not represent the views of Murdoch or any of its affiliates. All posts are NOT to be taken seriously and are written only for entertainment purposes.

Last night, I went to my sisters' graduation, a follow Murdoch student I have yet to mention, who has recently finished her forensics course. Earning her a BoF. Which asks the question, how come she gets BoF and I don't get BoIT? I wanna be a BoIT! Also, what the heck is with the plural "Graduands"? When did it switch from Graduates? Did that plural noun remind people to much of "The Graduate?"

Questions aside though, the Murdoch graduation can be quite nice, the speeches didn't go on to long, the Hon. Doctorate winner did not tell his life story, but instead of how Murdoch changed his life. It finished on time, or at least, more on time than most, the ceremony lasting 2.5 hours rather than the standard 4.5, although each name was just read out, you have to do post grad to actually get the audience to know what you did, which makes post grad actually worth something. They walk across the stage and shake the Chancellors' (not Gargemel, who actually is a really awesome speech maker, I'm really sorry about last months post, he's actually a nice guy.) Hand, or in some cases, hug, or in few cases, hug, bow, kiss, shake hands than bow again (That guy must be so happy he finished, seriously he should have got an Hon. Doctorate right there and then for that effort.) there's a few adverts for Murdoch breaking the ceremony up. Okay, that's like seeing an ad for something you just brought, pretty pointless, but more entertaining than some speeches. So lots of names, walking and attention seeking, then me freaking out cause I hear my year 8 & 10 SOSE teachers name. Great, now if I see him again I got to call him Doctor, and sorry about my abismel year 8 effort, a report should be more than two paragraphs (HOW THE HELL DID I GET TO SECOND YEAR UNI? SERIOUSLY? SOMEONE UP THERE MUST NOT JUST LIKE ME, BUT A HAVE A SERIOUS WAGER ON ME OR SOMETHING.) Uh, what else, oh yes, afterwards there's free coffee and cake and you can chat to people, before realising that they are the Gargemel guy and you're totally risiting saying "This is from the guild" OKAY. I KNOW. I REALLY HAVE TO GET OVER THIS STUPID OBSESSION WITH THE V.C. 

The gowns are like death if he got fashion savvy, they're that Murdoch maroon, but a cape, and to get the mortarboard, again, do post grad, and don't chuck it up in the air, or you'll never get it back. with a sash depending on what bachelor, or masters you're getting. Mines going to be green. Odd. You have to wear something under it, which can be roughly seen as the gowns don't close. Girls wear nice dresses, Guys wear ties (and suits hopefully), I'm wearing my "I'm blogging this" shirt, its my last chance to make a statement, and it should be a truthful one, which is where we come to a point of, My Graduation.

Although not for a minimum of one year, the whole spectacle, made for a very reflective time, me one third through my degree witnesses hundreds of people who survived the caffeine late night assignments (I myself had actually reserved this night to do an assignment, ironically, don't worry, it's now got an intro, although it was written about 3ish so its probably all the lyrics to the "Happy Days" theme.), the foam parties and generally the whole uni experience, which made me both envious and but glad I was still living it, it's a great life experience, and what better time then reflecting the ride afterwards, then reflecting on it while your still riding it. And plus I'm doing it without the nostalgia filter yet, so I can still say "My assignments ARE RUBBISH!" rather than "I passed/credited/distinctioned them, so they must've been great."

If you are at a Murdoch graduation in the future and you do hear my name "Lachlan Harris" you have three options

• "He really is blogging this!"
• "DUAL MURDOCH GUY!"
• "He loves Quendas!"
• "Don't fall over"
• "YOU SUCK" - Thank you Brock...

Or just anything, after all I'm not sure about my viewership and this will give me some estimate, and 15 more seconds of fame.

Grafitti of the week:

overhead at graduation

"So going to crash the MITS LAN on Friday"

Seriously, though, all welcome, including gate crashers, just bring your comp and be ready to be totally owned at Puzzle Quest Galactrix.

To the girl I'm stalking doing accounting: Admit it, even you want to come to the LAN.