I got drunk for the first time this wednesday. I'm taking being a grown-up very slowly

Two small parts of bad_service today.

1) Dear Docs and nurses at the medical centre.

I get it. Okay, I really really get it. I'm a student, and students usually have lots and lots humpingly good, riproaringly good, pants drippingly spectacular, sweatybacked sex while drunk and/or drugged out of their brain waves. You want to protect me from the added inconvience of a small child on the top of my endless amounts of coursework and lack of money.

Unfortunately, I'm not having any of that humpingly good, riproaringly good, pants drippingly spectacular, sweatybacked sex and thus, I'm good about not having a condom in my handbag or needing to regulate my hormones in order to prevent babies from turning up on my door step (Cause that's how it works, isn't it?)

So you can stop trying to push birth control on me every time I come to see you. Just stop it. I know you're trying to help, but you're not. Trust me when I tell you I'm fine about not needing birth control. I don't need the Pill, I don't want free condoms, and I don't want a leaflet about sexually transmitted infections and diseases in order to frighten me into understanding about unprotected sex.

It's kinda depressing having to give all the condoms to my next door neighbour because I'm not going to use them anytime soon.

2) Dear Student Finance.

No, you still haven't fixed it. We're still having words, I still hate you, and I still want a divorce. More updates to come soon.