sounds like friday afternoon

sally seltmann inspires all my haircuts.

my brain is ruined.

My friend Bert is one of my favourite people to make "your mum" jokes with, and indeed in highschool my group of friends became obsessed with the "your mum" and "that's what she said" lines. We all blame my friend Bart (not to be confused with Bert) because he was from a small country town and brought those phrases with him when he came to our school. It was year twelve and I was housesitting for neighbours abroad in Vietnam. My friends all more or less appointed themselves guardians because they didn't want me to be alone. This caretaking consisted of eating all my food and playing computer games. Also they raided my neighbour's vintage playboy collection (3 hours later, "Alex, this thing is just FULL OF WRITING"), but that's another story. By the end of my stint as house and dog sitter all our vocabularies had shrunk to "your mum" and "that's what she said".

Bart: I'm going to eat the last of this muesli
Nick: THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

Matt: I'm going to bed now
Aaron: Yeah me too... WITH YOUR MUUUUUUUM AHAHAHAHAHAHA

It got so bad in the end Bart began giving what we later dubbed "The Bart Glare", which was a fearsome gaze he would implement under great annoyance. This was it; you know you've crossed the line when your jokes upset the laziest nerd you know. We tried valiantly to stop but it became a new game to see who could achieve the best Bart Glare. Eventually however, my neighbours came back to Australia and we all went back to our respective homes. The phrase died out. We began with basics like "Yes", "no", "pass the salt please". Personally I think heroin addicts have it easier than we did; you can always avoid heroin but you HAVE to talk. Anyway, I digress.

I just saw a comment on facebook from Bert in a conversation with another friend; "Tender. How's your mum?"
I immediately began to laugh hysterically. Bert, you crazy kid, what could have brought on a revival of "Your mum" jokes? As is the nature of facebook, I decided to stalk/read the rest of the conversation.

Bert: You have to see Get Him to the Greek, it's AWESOME
Friend: Haha okay I will. How's your ankle?
Bert: Tender. How's your Mum?
Friend: She's still in hospital but getting better :)

I blame Bart for this misunderstanding.

What could be better

You know what's better than sitting in front of people with a screaming baby on an 11-hour train ride? People with a screaming baby who eat with their mouths open and constantly rustle packets. And a girl next to you who alternated between a)sleeping with the tray-table down, totally comatose, thus preventing you from getting out of your seat and b)on her mobile phone, her entire vocabulary consisting of variants of "I'm raging aye, I'm so fuckin' angry". And a woman who is having what she seems to think is a private D&M with a bewildered-looking old woman, only due to her mirror-shattering loud voice everyone in the carriage can hear it, talking about "kids these days and my 16 year old daughter's just had her second abortion, back in my day things were different!". And a totally charming individual, some guy threatening to jump off the train if we don't stop soon so he can have a smoke, making fun of the train attendant or whatever you call them ("that guy's a full homo aye! oh my god, like a full fucking FAG"). And the train guy threatens to call the police. And kids are running around screaming their tiny lungs out. And then the train driver somehow found out his daughter had terminal cancer and all hell broke loose.

There's this thing in the fashion world where people have the ability to turn even the most mundane description into a plethora of flattering adjectives. When I say "mustard cardigan" thoughts spring to mind of McDonald's cheeseburgers and old-lady handbags. You say "Burnt orange" and I think of all things classy, like Paris and sunsets and girls with perfect hair.

Those stupid internet advertisements that are on the side of the page BUT THEN POP UP AND TAKE OVER THE ENTIRE SCREEN

Blah blah blah, fuck off. I've a runny nose and bed hair. I'm in no mood for your obnoxious nature or your stupid bright flashy "look at me!" Paris Hilton bullshit. Do you know what I do when SEX AND THE CITY 2 flares up all over my computer screen and I have SJP's foot-like face baring down on me like a donkey on acid? I run out of the house and I go see the new film immediately! NO, I WRITE IT DOWN ON A LIST AND MAKE A POINT TO NEVER EVER EVER BUY THAT PRODUCT/WATCH THAT MOVIE/EAT THAT ICE-CREAM. EVER. BECAUSE YOU INTERFERED WITH MY PRECIOUS INTERNET TIME. So fuck off and die in a damp, dark hole somewhere please.
Love Alex

Phone calls with my brother

Mum: (muffled) do you want to speak to your sister?
Him: (In background) No
Mum: Your brother wants to say hi!
Him: Hey
Me: Hi!!!
Him: Um. So. How's Uni? and stuff. Getting drunk every night?
Me: (sarcastic) Oh yeah EVERY NIGHT.
Him: Haha. Good one. Well. See ya.

Me: Hello?
Him: Hello?
Me:... Alex speaking, hello?
Him: Hey
Me: Jay?
Him: Yeah?
Me: Are you alright? What do you want?
Him: Um. Need a lift. Mum there?
Me: No, Mum and Dad went out
Him: Oh. Okay. See ya.

Him: Hello
Me: Hey! It's Alex.
Him: Oh, hey.
Me: Hi
Him:...
Me: How are you?
Him: Playing x-box. Hurry
Me: Oh. Is Mum there?
Him: Um. No. Pretty sure she's out.
Me: Are you sure?
Him: Yeah I think so.
Me: Can you check?
Him: (sigh) Okay. MMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMALEXISONTHEPHONE
Him: Oh. She's here. Well. See ya.

My best friend lives far away and is not great at keeping in contact with people. She is definitely not the sort of person to send a "how are you, miss you, visit soon xoxo" type message. Today I got a text from her that simply read "perfect for you: the new ski yogurt has no chunks so I don't have to watch you waste half your yogurt anymore while picking the bits out". To me this is the equivalent of a 10-page letter and hours of phone calls.