Archive for November, 2011

See You Guys On Winning Streak

When I was a kid, I had really high hopes for myself. I always assumed I would grow up to be something rad, like a doctor, or Tony Hawks, or maybe one of the Power Rangers. I still kinda want to be a Power Ranger, to be honest. I had a dream a while ago that me and Tommy were married, and I won’t lie, it was pretty upsetting for me when I woke up and was a huge lesbian instead.

Anyway, I had big dreams as a kid. All of them were about me being bigger and also class at something. I am super glad that time travel only exists underneath a mountain in Switzerland, because younger me would be wicked disappointed to find out that both of those aims have yet to be achieved. On the plus side, Younger Me would be wicked impressed with how many versions of Pokemon I am kicking ass at right now.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this crap is that the government have decided that I can’t do a postgrad, and that’s fucking terrifying. I mean, since I’ve started this blog I have been on a mission to sort my life out, and in that short space of time I have exploded twice, quit smoking a hundred times, quit drinking four times, not gotten any jobs and otherwise pretty much let the side down. I’ve stayed off caffiene though, at this stage I am actively willing my body to think that was a big enough gesture. The point is I am not great at life plans, or even good, or  actually even passable. There are some things I can do really well [there aren’t], sorting my life out is not one of them. And now I gotta do it from scratch.

Shit is about to get real.

It’s at times like this that I am actually super glad my life is a sitcom. It’s comforting to know that no matter what path I choose for myself at this crossroads in my life, the results will definitely be Zany. Not only does that take a lot of the pressure off, it also gives me the option of going to Clown College. I bet it’s just as much fun as it looks.

Still, I would like those Zany Results to happen somewhere nearer cuddles than I currently am. People give out about Offaly a lot, and there are lots of good reasons to do that, but nobody ever complains about the Cuddle Famine. Maybe everyone is pretending it isn’t happening, but Imma be a whistleblower on this one- there are no cuddles in Offaly, you guys. There are sometimes hugs, and friendly embraces, and there are definitely after sex spoons happening all over the place, but there are absolutely no cuddles up in this area. What is with that? Is cuddling A Gay Thing? I think everything rad is a gay thing now, is that heterophobic of me? LOL JK it can’t be, heterophobia is Not A Real Thing That Is.

But what is real is this Cuddle Famine. I think we should fix it, as a team. I think everyone who is reading this blog should go out of their way to invade a culchie’s personal space in the near future. It’ll be like Cuddle Charity. Or like real charity but that you might get punched for [is it a hate crime to punch a dude in the face for trying to cuddle you? Or is it one of those ‘cries for help’ things, like when Cool Teens throw shit at old people? Someone should start a Youth Group that specifically teaches Cool Teens how to actually cry the word Help, I think we would have a lot less petty crime around the place. Or wait, is that not actually how that works? Metaphors are hard sometimes].

Basically, the only parameters I have set myself for this Whole New Life shit that I have to do now are: 1) Must be nearer cuddles, and 2) Must not be too important. It’s not that I don’t want to have a big important job someday, but while Zany Results and using Kopparberg as a magical cure- all for my life are still present in it, I don’t think I should be running for office or anything. Also, a genuine thing that just happened in the middle of me writing this blog was a good twenty minutes where I imagined what Jersey Shore would be like if one of the people in the house was secretly a Tiger. I think it works best if you imagine it’s Snooki, try it for a few seconds. It’d be all

WILLIAM BLAKE: Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

SNOOKI: Oops my vagina fell out *bites Vinnie in half*

Tell me you would not watch that show.

The point is, I should not be in charge of public policy. Clearly, I should have some kind of position in reality television, but I don’t know if I could handle that much make up. There is a lady who shops where I work who wears as much fake tan as I imagine reality TV stars wear, and I can’t stop staring at her, it’s like a car crash in ridiculous heels. I swear to god, she blurs at the edges, man, I have no idea where she begins or ends. Maybe she stretches out into infinity, in which case SUPER awkward if her Infinity Tan is reading this over my shoulder.

Soz babes.

I dunno, chaps, maybe I am not supposed to have a career. Maybe it is like Clearballs said, and I am destined to be a Cafe Lesbian, but like, I don’t think I have the discipline to be one forever. I mean, my hair is hard work as it is, as I age, I am only going to need more product, and spending all my wages on Surf Hair will probably not be rad when I am old. My weave might never recover from that much Fructose, my head would probably get diabetes, and then where would I be? Sticky and alone, that’s where.

I guess what I really need to do is start investing in Scratch cards, and start dating a statistician. Those two things might not seem super related, but there’s a statistician in America who has earned roughly a bajillion Real Life Dollars on scratchcards, because she has figured out the system. She’s a fucking genius, and since I am clearly not one, I gotta catch me one. As I said, I’m kicking ass at Pokemon, those skills will totally carry over. I just gotta find me a math genius, stand really close to her and hold down B for like thirty seconds, and we will be gay married. It’s foolproof.

KAL should have thought of that plan years ago, they’d have saved a fortune in legal bills.