Isolation Frustrations with Above Standard
Going into their final year of study, Above Standard’s Ella and Alice, were planning to record a podcast episode on ‘How to Not Fuck Up Your O-Week’ when Omicron colossally fucked up their last O-Week. While the gals are no longer flatmates, they both have their own stories about how Covid messed up their first recording session of the year:
THE COVID SMOOCH: Alice Chrisp
It all started off with a dusty Sunday (and I’m not talking about the podcast). I met my mans at the airport, like the jet setters we are. He’d just come from a 21st in Dunedin, and I’d been in Auckland. Anyway, I ran up to him and gave him a big ole smooch. Little did I know that this smooch would land me stuck inside for ten days with the notorious virus.
Two days later I found myself with a bit of a tickly throat and off we went to the Taranaki Street testing centre to wait an hour and 45 min line to get a test. As someone living with an immunocompromised disease (T1 diabetes gang) I’d always hear the horror stories of how Covid may affect you.
And yup, my test came back positive. In a weird way, I think I manifested it. Everyone kept asking me how it was, honestly it kinda was just like a real shit cold. Stuck in bed for three days with a bad headache and a few cold sweats. For me, it was doable: I was double vaxxed, and spent the time bingeing tv shows and listening to my current favourite true-crime podcast, Morbid.
COVID-19 HAS BEEN MY BIGGEST COCK-BLOCK: Ella Hoogerbrug
Covid-19 cock-blocked my O-Week, my 121 Festival three-day bender-extravaganza, and a first date. Literally with a Capricorn man, who had everything planned out to a T (and I’m a Taurus, so I love that shit). But my flatmate tested positive.
Within the first couple of hours of isolation, our flat was the most hygienic it has ever been. On our goddamn hands and knees, we bleached, sprayed, and scrubbed to prevent anyone else from getting infected. In spite of the cleaning escapade, we got a fucking rat in our bin the next morning. What was it eating? Probably the three-week-old stir-fry I had forgotten about in the back of the fridge—BUT THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT.
By the end of isolation, we were Essex Street’s hottest home bakers. With coffee and croissant deliveries every other day, our favourite plug became Aro Bake. The weekend was spent bonding over drinks and meeting our neighbours through the window. Oh, and no one else got Covid-19.
Keep in mind, ten days in a house with your mates is only a fifth of the time you'd spend in The Bachelor villa, wanking over some guy with no outside contact. Get a grip.