So there we were, my group of sandwich-eating ornithopods, at half ten in the morning some time last week. Probably Thursday. We were in the Stannary (student chill-out area/canteen) when a load of guys rolled in and ordered a round of beer at the bar. At half ten in the morning. Was I wrong in thinking 'blimey, they're a bit early'? I guess if you want to drink from half ten in the morning then you can, who am I to judge. I caught the eye of a Parasaurolophus on my right and went back to my roll. Half ten on Thursday morning might suit you as a pefect time for drinking, especially if you're a heavy set Ankylosaurus like these blokes were.
And then today I was sitting back on a stool in the Stannary before I was joined by two students I know, both in their second year. It wan't half eleven. No exaggeration, every two minutes I was asked to go and get a drink, to buy a drink, to go and get a drink, to have a drink, to go and buy a drink. And I got so sick of it. I like these people, but I almost just walked away. What is so unfathomable about not wanting to drink alcohol in the morning? It was like I was trying to protect my eggs of moral highground from a pain in the arse Dilophosaurus (the one that kills Wayne Knight in the original Jurassic Park).
This is why I'm glad I'm a Parasaurolophus. Because I have a herd and we like each other and all agree on the same things. And there's no real pressure to do stuff we don't want to do. My crescent is finally a nice, healthy colour.
And that's not a euphemism.