In theory, I love wavy hair. I picture tall, slender, bronze-skinned beauties meandering in their lacy underthings in a field of golden thigh-grazing grass. Their hair is long and plentiful and it unwinds in sunlit mahogany ripples, with a hint of loose curling at the ends. They are wild and free and gorgeous.
UNFORTUNATELY this is not me. I am not tall, elegant, or even able to walk without tripping over my own gargantuan feet. I don’t own pretty underwear. Plus I'd get a rash from all that grass.
And my hair? Brown tangle explosion. It will never resemble the pages of vogue and it will never be socially acceptable.
Damn you, humidity.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Random friend of my Mum’s: you must be Poppy, how nice to meet you
Me: Hi
Random friend of my Mum’s: How old are you?
Me: uh-
Random friend of my Mum’s (interrupting): No, wait, let me guess… fourteen?
Me: I’m eighteen
Random friend of my Mum’s: Oh. Wow... I bet my fifteen year old son would like to meet you!
Me: I’m eighteen
Me: Hi
Random friend of my Mum’s: How old are you?
Me: uh-
Random friend of my Mum’s (interrupting): No, wait, let me guess… fourteen?
Me: I’m eighteen
Random friend of my Mum’s: Oh. Wow... I bet my fifteen year old son would like to meet you!
Me: I’m eighteen
Why I Hate People Part 9,238,706
Customer (buying Black Eyed Peas CD): Black eyed peas are fuckin’ mad aye
Me: yeah, they’re alright
Customer: I mean, don’t get me wrong, normally I hate them nigga beats.
Me: (speechless)
Customer: I’m no racist but it’s bullshit these days, thinking they’re so good with their fast cars and shiny shoes
Me: um…
Customer: yeah mostly they’re pretty fuckin’ shit hey. But black eyed peas, man, fuckin’ mad.
Me: (after staring at him for a really long time) …here’s your change.
Me: yeah, they’re alright
Customer: I mean, don’t get me wrong, normally I hate them nigga beats.
Me: (speechless)
Customer: I’m no racist but it’s bullshit these days, thinking they’re so good with their fast cars and shiny shoes
Me: um…
Customer: yeah mostly they’re pretty fuckin’ shit hey. But black eyed peas, man, fuckin’ mad.
Me: (after staring at him for a really long time) …here’s your change.
Overheard at the Supermarket
Woman (reading from shopping list):… and we’ll need a banana…
middle aged man: (grabs a banana and places it in trolley)
Woman: No, Did I say for you to do that-
Man (cutting her off): WELL THANK GOD I have you around to tell me what’s what! Thank the Lord that I’ve go you to inform me on such difficult matters. I’m so stupid that when you say “get a banana” my simple understanding is to pick up one of those yellow things and put it in the trolley, obviously I am totally incompetent. I’m just so lucky to have a wife who is so smart she understands what such a phrase actually entails. So, thank you darling, without you I’d be nothing, I’d be lost, unable to even obtain a single banana. You’re just so, so wonderful-
Woman: Oh, shut up
(We could still hear him going when we got to the checkouts)
middle aged man: (grabs a banana and places it in trolley)
Woman: No, Did I say for you to do that-
Man (cutting her off): WELL THANK GOD I have you around to tell me what’s what! Thank the Lord that I’ve go you to inform me on such difficult matters. I’m so stupid that when you say “get a banana” my simple understanding is to pick up one of those yellow things and put it in the trolley, obviously I am totally incompetent. I’m just so lucky to have a wife who is so smart she understands what such a phrase actually entails. So, thank you darling, without you I’d be nothing, I’d be lost, unable to even obtain a single banana. You’re just so, so wonderful-
Woman: Oh, shut up
(We could still hear him going when we got to the checkouts)
Random guy at party: you’re like, really pretty
Me(thinking: AHH SOCIAL INTERACTION PANIC PANIC): thanks
Random: Your eyes, they’re like, really nice. Your eyelashes are so long!
Me: um, thanks
Random: like heaps long hey
Me: must be the mascara I use
Random: yeah… hey, I bet you look like shit without makeup!
Me(thinking: AHH SOCIAL INTERACTION PANIC PANIC): thanks
Random: Your eyes, they’re like, really nice. Your eyelashes are so long!
Me: um, thanks
Random: like heaps long hey
Me: must be the mascara I use
Random: yeah… hey, I bet you look like shit without makeup!
My Dad
Me: My phone’s broken. What a piece of shit.
Dad: Just charge it
Me: I did. It won’t turn on. It’s broken.
Dad: You’re probably not doing it right, let me see.
He proceeds to put my phone on the charger for a few hours, then tries to turn it on. He does this at least once every day for about 2 months.
Then one day…
Dad (Presses power button calmly and stares at phone for a very, very long time): Turn on, come on, come on, turn on… you bastard! (slams phone on kitchen bench) Fucking piece of crap! This is ridiculous, friggin’ Optus! I swear to fucking God… this phone is fucked!
December 2009: the delivery guys have failed to ring the doorbell and have instead left a notification that they have attempted to deliver a parcel.
Me: Hey, I found this under the door. Sorry Dad, I guess they didn’t ring the doorbell. I mean, I didn’t hear anything.
Dad: No, no, it’s okay… I mean, next time please just answer the door
Me: they didn’t knock, Dad. I didn’t even know they were here, actually.
Dad: Yeah, I know, it’s just a bit annoying really… I mean, you should always keep an eye out… you could have done more than just sit around downstairs… well, you should have heard them! Fucking cunts! Useless fucking bastards, they never ring the fucking doorbell. I can’t fucking believe this, I need that laptop. Those cunts. Jesus Christ. Just answer the fucking door next time Alex! For fucks sake!
Me (after being attacked by my brother’s highly aggresive pet bird): OH MY GOD that bird just tried to rip my earring out! Jesus! Put it back in the cage!
Dad: It’s not the bird’s fault Alex, you just don’t know how to handle it… if you show it fear it’s going to try to dominate you. The bird doesn’t bite me because I show it I have confidence, I look it in the eye. It knows who’s boss.
Me: It was waiting for me on my bedroom door handle when I came upstairs. She followed me when I ran.
Dad: Don’t be ridiculous. Trevor’s a nice bird (Dad reaches out to scratch Trevor and Trevor clamps her beak down on his finger)
Dad: OUCH! FUCK! GET IT OFF ME! GET THE FUCKING BIRD OFF ME! (at this point, my younger brother is forced intervene and extricate Dad’s bloody finger)
Dad: Get that fucking creature back in it’s fucking cage and do not let it out again. Ever. Put an ad in the fucking paper! FREE BIRD TO GOOD FUCKING HOME!
My Dad (talking to the coffee machine and hitting it with his fists): come on you motherfucker! Work you goddamn piece of shit!
(I look up from my book at the kitchen table, wordlessly)
Dad: Don’t swear.
Dad: Just charge it
Me: I did. It won’t turn on. It’s broken.
Dad: You’re probably not doing it right, let me see.
He proceeds to put my phone on the charger for a few hours, then tries to turn it on. He does this at least once every day for about 2 months.
Then one day…
Dad (Presses power button calmly and stares at phone for a very, very long time): Turn on, come on, come on, turn on… you bastard! (slams phone on kitchen bench) Fucking piece of crap! This is ridiculous, friggin’ Optus! I swear to fucking God… this phone is fucked!
December 2009: the delivery guys have failed to ring the doorbell and have instead left a notification that they have attempted to deliver a parcel.
Me: Hey, I found this under the door. Sorry Dad, I guess they didn’t ring the doorbell. I mean, I didn’t hear anything.
Dad: No, no, it’s okay… I mean, next time please just answer the door
Me: they didn’t knock, Dad. I didn’t even know they were here, actually.
Dad: Yeah, I know, it’s just a bit annoying really… I mean, you should always keep an eye out… you could have done more than just sit around downstairs… well, you should have heard them! Fucking cunts! Useless fucking bastards, they never ring the fucking doorbell. I can’t fucking believe this, I need that laptop. Those cunts. Jesus Christ. Just answer the fucking door next time Alex! For fucks sake!
Me (after being attacked by my brother’s highly aggresive pet bird): OH MY GOD that bird just tried to rip my earring out! Jesus! Put it back in the cage!
Dad: It’s not the bird’s fault Alex, you just don’t know how to handle it… if you show it fear it’s going to try to dominate you. The bird doesn’t bite me because I show it I have confidence, I look it in the eye. It knows who’s boss.
Me: It was waiting for me on my bedroom door handle when I came upstairs. She followed me when I ran.
Dad: Don’t be ridiculous. Trevor’s a nice bird (Dad reaches out to scratch Trevor and Trevor clamps her beak down on his finger)
Dad: OUCH! FUCK! GET IT OFF ME! GET THE FUCKING BIRD OFF ME! (at this point, my younger brother is forced intervene and extricate Dad’s bloody finger)
Dad: Get that fucking creature back in it’s fucking cage and do not let it out again. Ever. Put an ad in the fucking paper! FREE BIRD TO GOOD FUCKING HOME!
My Dad (talking to the coffee machine and hitting it with his fists): come on you motherfucker! Work you goddamn piece of shit!
(I look up from my book at the kitchen table, wordlessly)
Dad: Don’t swear.
Why I Don't Give Advice
When I was 16, my male friends decided they'd had enough of being single. Eventually they turned to me for advice. What with my shaved head, penchant for swearing, lack of social skills and general hatred of anything remotely feminine, this was a remarkable display of desparation. It was like the moment in Harry Potter, when Ron needs a partner for the Yule ball, and he turns to Hermione and says “But you’re a girl”.
Always the lady, I’d roll my eyes. “Harden the fuck up, you’ll be fine. Shall we get a goon sack?"
Always the lady, I’d roll my eyes. “Harden the fuck up, you’ll be fine. Shall we get a goon sack?"
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