The weekend is often a time of rest and recuperation for Waikato scholars. Of course, us diligent students don’t get to stay in bed for hours in the morning during our study-packed weekdays at uni, due to our dedication to 9 am lectures and maintaining a routine sleep schedule. As a result, the Saturday morning sleep-in is a heavenly occurrence for many—unless, of course, you have that one flatmate who thinks 7 am is an acceptable time to start slamming all the doors in the house. With the prospect of a full two days until you have to worry about your next excuse as to why you’re not going to class again, the options of what to do with your time are endless.
Why not head on down to your local sports field to watch some classic Saturday entertainment? Depending on how early the game is or how crisp of a morning Hamilton East is serving up, there’s nothing better than standing on a muddy sideline while not understanding a bloody thing because you can’t hear the ref. Or better yet, why not play? You can’t beat re-living the glory days of high school by continuing with weekend sport into your 20s.
Saturday’s are prime-time to visit home for some good old-fashioned TLC. We all know the heartache that comes with homesickness, especially those of you that move from your parents’ house on the Hillcrest side of uni to the pumping student area that surrounds Beaumont Street. Must be tough. Why not head back to your old stomping ground for a couple of days to remind yourself just why you left in the first place? Besides, there’s nothing better than a nice, home-cooked meal with actual vegetables, because let’s face it, Hall food is unkind to the tastebuds and none of us know what the fuck we’re doing with a frypan. An added bonus is your washing appearing to do itself, complete with precision folding, meaning you can finally wear clean clothes for the first time in three weeks.
Saturday night is the time for legends to be born. No matter the number of bad decisions that are made, us nifty students can rest assured that, regardless of how messy the night gets, even the most studious of us have Sunday to recover before Monday arrives with more classes and more money to be added to our crippling student debt. Also if you do send that “accidental” Snapchat, you have at least twenty-four hours to pull the classic, “sorry, ignore that!” or just drop out and move cities. Just a heads up though; your excuses aren’t fooling anyone. Girls, your “love you, whoops wrong person” series isn’t going to cut it. And boys, no girl is going to believe that picture of your downtown was an accident, nor is the picture with a girl, who we all know has a boyfriend, going to make us jealous.
But still, the age-old question remains – are Saturdays really for the boys?