Me: (Watching the scene on Scrubs where JD and Turk are playing Gay Chicken) I love this part.
My Cousin: Yeah it's hilarious! My friends play gay chicken... they're always like, hey Maddy, play Gay Chicken with us! But I don't play, because they don't back off at the last second.
Me: um... isn't that just two drunk thirteen year old girls making out?
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Mum: The neighbours have been having renovations. They got new floors and a new bathroom, how exciting is that!
Me: Really? I hadn't realised, what with all the tradies and loud banging coming from their house and every conversation with them for the past two months being about the aforementioned renovations
Mum: We're going over to check it out! Want to come?
Me: What with my hectic social calendar I might just take a break today
Mum: Oh, that's a nice idea
Me: (go back to fourth consecutive day of Left 4 Dead marathon)
Me: Really? I hadn't realised, what with all the tradies and loud banging coming from their house and every conversation with them for the past two months being about the aforementioned renovations
Mum: We're going over to check it out! Want to come?
Me: What with my hectic social calendar I might just take a break today
Mum: Oh, that's a nice idea
Me: (go back to fourth consecutive day of Left 4 Dead marathon)
Friday, January 29, 2010
When you break up with your first proper boyfriend of 19 months you should immediately:
A) Consume large amounts of ice-cream. Cry hysterically into bowl with Strawberry Dream dribbling down your chin.
B) Break out the emergency Vodka and blast You Am I- Heavy Heart on repeat, voice gradually becoming louder and more slurred as dawn approaches
C) Channel rage into a scathing letter about how shit Passion Pit are. Secretly decide you love Passion Pit. Destroy letter. Watch Daria until 2am.
A) Consume large amounts of ice-cream. Cry hysterically into bowl with Strawberry Dream dribbling down your chin.
B) Break out the emergency Vodka and blast You Am I- Heavy Heart on repeat, voice gradually becoming louder and more slurred as dawn approaches
C) Channel rage into a scathing letter about how shit Passion Pit are. Secretly decide you love Passion Pit. Destroy letter. Watch Daria until 2am.
I remember in early high school when Physical Education was mandatory... those were the days. That is, the days of humiliation and pain.
PE was basically a cesspit of students, predominantly featuring the aggressive, popular kids and the non-athletic reclusive types, such as myself, and then arming us with hockey sticks. The world was still a sunny place and I had not yet decided I wanted everyone at my school to die in a fiery blaze. Being a chubby kid my teachers took no interest in me despite the fact that I always tried hard, volunteered first, and wasn't a half bad team player. Every term I'd take home the same report; "Alex would do well to improve her overall health and fitness". In year 10 I re-emerged much lighter and a good 4 inches taller. This was due to a rigorous lifestyle change (I had a Twin Peaks addiction and regularly forgot to eat while watching it). Suddenly my PE teacher could remember my name and I took home a positively glowing report, despite the fact that I'd long stopped making contact with any sports equiptment, or even bringing my uniform on a consistent basis.
To this day there is a dejected little fat kid inside of me that still feels bitter, and hopes all asshole P.E. teachers are forced to a special place in hell where they have to stand on hot coals and eat each others eyeballs, while listening to Nickelback.
PE was basically a cesspit of students, predominantly featuring the aggressive, popular kids and the non-athletic reclusive types, such as myself, and then arming us with hockey sticks. The world was still a sunny place and I had not yet decided I wanted everyone at my school to die in a fiery blaze. Being a chubby kid my teachers took no interest in me despite the fact that I always tried hard, volunteered first, and wasn't a half bad team player. Every term I'd take home the same report; "Alex would do well to improve her overall health and fitness". In year 10 I re-emerged much lighter and a good 4 inches taller. This was due to a rigorous lifestyle change (I had a Twin Peaks addiction and regularly forgot to eat while watching it). Suddenly my PE teacher could remember my name and I took home a positively glowing report, despite the fact that I'd long stopped making contact with any sports equiptment, or even bringing my uniform on a consistent basis.
To this day there is a dejected little fat kid inside of me that still feels bitter, and hopes all asshole P.E. teachers are forced to a special place in hell where they have to stand on hot coals and eat each others eyeballs, while listening to Nickelback.
Confidence is Key
When I was 15 I started a new school, and promptly developed a crush. At the time there were many things I didn't realise about the crush in question, such as that he was a drug-addled fuckwit and a complete psychopath, but all I knew back then was that the way the sunlight glinted off his many piercings and the way his bloodshot eyes burned into my soul meant love. Or at least hormone-fuelled lust. While my art teacher tried to explain the importance of Marcel Duchamp (the toilet-seat loving bastard), I was listening to Angus and Julia Stone (shut up, I was young) on my Ipod and staring at the back of his curly head. He'd sit with me on break and draw me little pictures depicting elves with exploding limbs, bleeding from their beady eyes, and swirly-eyed animals that looked like creatures from a Dr Seuss book smoking bongs. Like any teenage girl, I was sure that this obvious sign of affection meant we were soul mates. Then one day, it all went awry.
I'd been home sick for a few days and when I got back my friend Hannah came rushing up to me. "Alex!" She said. "Nathaniel asked me if you have a boyfriend and I said no and he said to give you his number because he thinks you're hot!!!"
Hoorah! I said. I quickly put his number into my phone. Later I sent him a cheeky text. He replied instantly and we went out that weekend. He's still my boyfriend :)
No I'm totally kidding.
"What? are you serious?" I said. "You idiot, Hannah, He's clearly taking the piss. Delete his number now. Tell him I'm gay please. What a wanker".
Because I was so adamant that I was a grotesquely malformed freak with a hideous personality to match, any boy who paid me the slightest amount of attention during highschool was either a)joking or b)had some freaky fetish. I scorned them immediately.
This has benefitted me amazingly. When you're lacking in self confidence you seem to attract all these amazing nutter butters. Like the girl who used to put hexes on people she didn't like (i.e. who wouldn't share hot chips with her). Or the guy who went to raves just so he could tell people about his "free ice and acid", lure them back to his car, then pelt them with lemon wedges and ice cubes.
Sure, I could have been confident, I could have worn nice things and traded in cynicism and saturday nights watching Harry Potter fan videos on Youtube for a social life and actual friends. I could have been Happy! and Awesome! and fed on my own fabulousness growing a head so large I'd make Nicky Hilton look (relatively) normal.
Instead I chose solitude and teen angst. Nobody understood me, etc etc.
The world is much more fun when you're a cliche; nocturnal, depressed, bitchy, unemployed, most-likely-to-be-unsuccessful-arist. I've learnt important lessons, like the value of staring down random people on the bus.
So all those people who tell you to believe in your dreams, hold your head high and smile, to you I say shut up and get back in your box. I know you go home at night, fight with people in the comments section on youtube, repeat your affirmations in a shaky voice and weep into your downy pillow.
I'd been home sick for a few days and when I got back my friend Hannah came rushing up to me. "Alex!" She said. "Nathaniel asked me if you have a boyfriend and I said no and he said to give you his number because he thinks you're hot!!!"
Hoorah! I said. I quickly put his number into my phone. Later I sent him a cheeky text. He replied instantly and we went out that weekend. He's still my boyfriend :)
No I'm totally kidding.
"What? are you serious?" I said. "You idiot, Hannah, He's clearly taking the piss. Delete his number now. Tell him I'm gay please. What a wanker".
Because I was so adamant that I was a grotesquely malformed freak with a hideous personality to match, any boy who paid me the slightest amount of attention during highschool was either a)joking or b)had some freaky fetish. I scorned them immediately.
This has benefitted me amazingly. When you're lacking in self confidence you seem to attract all these amazing nutter butters. Like the girl who used to put hexes on people she didn't like (i.e. who wouldn't share hot chips with her). Or the guy who went to raves just so he could tell people about his "free ice and acid", lure them back to his car, then pelt them with lemon wedges and ice cubes.
Sure, I could have been confident, I could have worn nice things and traded in cynicism and saturday nights watching Harry Potter fan videos on Youtube for a social life and actual friends. I could have been Happy! and Awesome! and fed on my own fabulousness growing a head so large I'd make Nicky Hilton look (relatively) normal.
Instead I chose solitude and teen angst. Nobody understood me, etc etc.
The world is much more fun when you're a cliche; nocturnal, depressed, bitchy, unemployed, most-likely-to-be-unsuccessful-arist. I've learnt important lessons, like the value of staring down random people on the bus.
So all those people who tell you to believe in your dreams, hold your head high and smile, to you I say shut up and get back in your box. I know you go home at night, fight with people in the comments section on youtube, repeat your affirmations in a shaky voice and weep into your downy pillow.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Irrational reasons for hating your parents friends
They resemble a villainous character from your favourite video game
They have the exact voice you have always invisioned a paedophile to have
They wear short shorts
They like Judas Priest
They won’t shut the fuck up about Judas Priest
You don’t understand what the fuck they’re talking about, because you rely on people doing things like making their voices go higher when they ask a question, but this person talks in a funny, slow, level sort of way that makes you want to stab your eyes out because you’d comprehend the dialogue of a charred burrito better
They have no chin
They have the exact voice you have always invisioned a paedophile to have
They wear short shorts
They like Judas Priest
They won’t shut the fuck up about Judas Priest
You don’t understand what the fuck they’re talking about, because you rely on people doing things like making their voices go higher when they ask a question, but this person talks in a funny, slow, level sort of way that makes you want to stab your eyes out because you’d comprehend the dialogue of a charred burrito better
They have no chin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
