Milk, Beer, Cinders and Japanese.

So, I'm going to share some funny stories from my first week here at Oxbrookes :)
I should introduce everyone that features first.
First of all, we have Stijn (pronounced Stein) the only boy in our flat, an avid beer-drinker, and a rather strange individual all in all. Nice, but strange. He's from Belgium, and doing a Foundation year.
Then, there is Laurel- from Stratford-Upon-Avon (Birthplace of Shakespeare!) and she's doing Single Honours English.
Then, we have Sandra, or 'Cinders' as we call her- a third-year transfer student from Malaysia doing Law. I'll explain the whole 'Cinders' thing later. She's even odder than Stijn!
And then there is me, Clair, the strange and bored person writing this blog.

1) Steinetta.
'Steinetta' is the nickname Laurel and I have given to Stijn :) we noticed post through our letterbox, and one of them had his room number on it, but it was for a Miss Adeobola (or something, I don't remember)- obviously a previous resident, but he wanted to open it. And we were all like 'No, because you're not a even a girl. Are you admitting you're a girl or something?".
And so, after a later discussion between Laurel and I, 'Steinetta' was born. We even made him a sign for his door- he was SO not impressed. Ungrateful Dutch twat :P

2) Cinders
Cinders is our semi-permanent resident, whom Laurel and I have decided is a ninja-spy-butterfly creature due to how she flutters in and out, and we NEVER notice she's gone out, plus she never socializes with us. Ever.
The reason we call her Cinders, you ask? Well, at first we thought she was Chinese, and some post came for a Miss Nan Feng. So, we took it to her door, and asked if it was hers.
She said it wasn't, and then told us her name, but Laurel misheard her and thought she said "Cinderella" instead of Sandra. And so it has stuck :P

3) Milk.
Some people argue there's nothing better than your own milk. Such is the case with Laurel.
I can't remember exactly what she was saying to Stijn about milk, but whatever it was culminated in "I use my own".
Now, of course Laurel meant, by her own milk, the milk from her father's farm, but Stijn (and I! Sorry Laurel!) interpreted it a little differently. The ensuing conversation went something like this, I do believe.
Stijn: So you drink your own breast milk?
Laurel: WHAT?! NO! OF COURSE NOT! THAT'S DISGUSTING!
Stijn: You just said you use your own!
Laurel; I meant my DAD'S milk. From his cows on the farm!
Stijn: Oh. So your dad is a farmer?
Laurel: Yes! I can't believe you thought that! That's such a disgusting thought! Eugh...
*momentary lapse in conversation where Stijn and I have cracked up laughing*
Laurel: I remember hearing about some woman who breastfed her cat once...
Me: Really? Ew. That's gross!
Stijn: So you breastfeed your cat also?
Me: *dies laughing*
Laurel: NO! I don't! Can we please stop talking about me breastfeeding my cat?!
Stijn: AH YOU JUST SAID YOU DID! *cracks up laughing*
Laurel: I DON'T!
Me: *smirk* but you DID say you did!
*much laughter ensues here*
Since Laurel knows about this blog, and that this story is being included, she has asked me to make certain that everyone reading it knows she doesn't drink her own breast milk, nor does she breastfeed her cat. So, yeah. Laurel does not do these things. Kay? :3

I will add more stuff later, this is all I can remember for now. I'll check stuff off with Laurel and Stijn tomorrow, but for now, I'm quite tired, and the noise from Stijn's vodka party is doing my head in!
I'm shattered, or I would go up and join in, but I don't really feel like it tonight.
It's just not my night tonight methinks :/
Clair xo