Today I went to dinner with two of my really beautiful friends
And they were like:
And I just sat there like:
Its not like youre William & Kate you know..
So I woke up on Saturday morning dreading the day because I had to go to this awful wedding, it was my cousins but I was the youngest there by far and the people were very snooty. It seems that my mothers family is quite well acquainted with society types (unfortunately this was not passed on to my homely mum) All the guests were hoity toity rich folk. And to top it all off I hate weddings because they remind me that I am completely alone with zero prospects and will likely end up living with a litter of dogs and a parakeet as I live out the remainder of my sad days.
I decided to wear this beautiful lace dress that I had recently bought but didn’t have the occasion to wear and I topped it off with a beautiful occasion hat straight out of the royal wedding! I put on my heels and walked downstairs where my sister was prompt with criticism. “Phwoar you realize we aren’t going to a club right? Seriously you look like a hooker! Go change you slag, unless you plan on working the corners tonight.” I told her that she was merely jealous that I could pull off this look but regardless I changed, I didn’t need her judgy eyes on me all night. I ended up wearing some black garment that could only be described as shapeless sack. I’m not going to lie, I am nothing spectacular in the breast department. In fact from afar I look like a 12-year-old boy, so I put on a bra with a lot of padding to fill the “dress” out. My snarky sister of course commented on the fact at which point my mother stepped in to say “Steph you know she doesn’t have real boobs, she has to fake them in a wonder bra, its not her fault” … thanks mother, way to inspire confidence.
I got to sit in the second row at the ceremony because we were accompanying my gran who can’t hear unless she is upfront. It was all going fine until my mum’s weird cousin Anne who was sitting behind us made me take off my occasion hat because she couldn’t see around it. Well I’m sorry Anne, who died and made you Queen?
After the ceremony, which was dull, as I couldn’t hear a bloody thing and the woman next to me kept coughing, we all went inside for the dinner. And when I went inside I happened to discover that there was an open bar. Well it was a hot day and my mum offered to get me a drink if it would keep me from complaining. And though I am technically underage, she got me a rum and coke (heavy on the rum). She said that if I didn’t complain anymore I could have more drinks; and this ladies and gentlemen is why I put up with this woman, for the rare enlightened times she decides to be cool. So as the night progressed I had more and more drinks until I was so entirely smashed I have very little recollections of the night. I have pieced together the events via some hilarious yet rather pathetic drunken texts sent to my friends.
At one point during dinner I decided to elope with our young rugged looking waiter- seriously he was something straight out of a harlequin bodice ripper. Unfortunately the love affair ended when he took away my chicken. Alas my great love of food outweighed the bonds of love… fat girl problems. I grew antsy throughout dinner, especially when I was told that dancing was not permitted. From what I can decipher from my angry texts, they tried to stifle my “righteous dance moves” … good lord I can only imagine.
I did however decide to give my own speech to my table (who were all strangers btw, apparently I wasn’t even good enough to sit with my own family) I think what I said was rather touching, but it wasn’t well received overall “May you never leave your marriage alive” I have a feeling that they will embrace the meaning of my words later… but perhaps not.
The last thing that I can recollect is preforming an apache dance on a chair to 99 Luft Balloons by Nena. Classic 80’s hit, all German. If you haven’t heard it I strongly recommend listening. And it turns out the person I was preforming for was none other than the owner of the Toronto Star… He seemed a little shaken, I suppose he couldn’t handle a firecracker like myself, although deep down I’m sure he thoroughly enjoyed the performance. It’s a wonder an article wasn’t written about me! It really was professional grade dancing if I do say so myself.
Anyway all’s well that ends well. The happy couple is on their honeymoon in Hawaii and my grandmother is begging for the product to be a great grandchild (erlack) and I’m sitting here in my room typing this to the internet… alone. Oh well at least I’ll always have food to get me through the lonely nights ;(
Singing Young Wild and Free in my room
- Me: So what we smoke weeeedddd
- Dad: Oh do you have some?
- Me:
- Dad:
- Me:
- Dad: I wont tell your mum if you share
Caution may result in pap smear.
Yesterday was the day of my annual physical. Its something I completely dread because it reminds me that my doctor feeling checking my jubblies for breast cancer will be the most action I have received all year. Although despite the fact that I believe my doctor may be harboring lezzie tendancies (her hands lingered a little long in the mammary region) I am thankful that I dont have an old man doctor… phwoar that would be awkward.
I suppose I should start from the beginning, this is the first appointment I’ve ever gone to alone and I was a titch nervous to be honest. My mum dropped me off in front of the office and told me to call her when I was done. Then as she drove away she yelled “call me maybe!” Which I think was her sad attempt at a joke. I got into the building and after waiting in the worlds longest line, I checked into my appointment.
The waiting room was filled with old people and small children. I sat there on my chair not wanting to touch anything for fear of contracting a horrible illness, I saw Contagion I know how this works. I was listening to my Ipod and Catch My Disease by Ben Lee came on and I couldnt help but laugh at the irony of the situation. Judging from the state of the waiting room the last time it had been cleaned was the summer of 1974 so I would most certainly be catching someones disease.
After waiting 9 million years I was seen into a second area where they checked my height and weight. The woman doing it was some kind of intern and was about 2.5 feet tall so she had to stand on a stool to do my weight. She called me “giant girl” when she was writing in my chart. How professional. She also had trouble doing my weight and when she was done I heard her mutter “wouldn’t have guessed that much” Thank you so much.
She led me into a third, smaller room where I would be seeing my doctor. She gave me the gown and left. I didn’t know whether I should get completely nude under the gown or if I should keep my undies on. I finally decided to keep the knickers but ditch my bra. So there I was sitting in my paper dress in this creepy room that looked as though it was decorated in the mid 80s. Anne Gedde’s pictures filled the walls and the babys eyes bore into my soul. I listened to the overly loud wall clock tick and after 20 mins the doctor finally came in. Honestly I don’t know what she does all day, she is perpetually late. You’d think that keeping people waiting was in her job description.
She asked me a billion questions about my diet and exercise (LOLOLOL) to which I lied and said I was living healthy. Hahahaha but seriously what is a vegetable? Then she got to my sexual history, I laughed like a hyena and I think she questioned my mental health. I told her that nobody in the history of the planet has ever wanted to engage in any form of sexual activity with me. She gave me a pittying look and said “Oh well maybe next year…” I didnt mean to say it but it kind of slipped out “Good lord I hope so! Why do you think I’m going to university” She was kind of horrified and slipped into a sex talk about waiting for the right guy and the importance of condom use everytime. Good lord I just sat there mortified, that cant be in her job description.
After she had fully invaded my body by feeling me up and looking at me all over she told me that I had to remove my underwear for a pap smear. She took out the tools which resembled a medival torture device. I was like OH HELL NO. I think I actually used the phrase “YOU THINK YOURE PUTTING THAT DOWN THERE? NOT BLOODY LIKELY” I kicked up enough of a ruckus that she said I didnt have to have it, especially since I was a virgin. I just sat there like yeah thats right bitch. She asked me a couple of other questions and then said I could get dressed. I scrambled into my clothes and hurried out of the room.
As I was leaving she caught me in the hallway and said these words that continue to haunt me. “I recommend you get the menactra vaccine before next year so you are protected against meningitis. You never know living in residence.” The next thing I knew I was being ushered into a nurses chair. The nurse was very butchy looking, she looked more like someone who worked in a slaughter house than a doctors office. She could tell I was nervous but instead of being comforting, she yelled “SETTLE DOWN SO I CAN FIND THE VEIN” I made the mistake of opening my eyes and she gropped my arm with a vice like grip and whipped out the biggest needle in the history of the universe. She jabbed it into my arm and I’m almost certain she hit bone. When she let me go there were tears in my eyes and I bolted out of the chair.
The best part of it all was that the vaccine cost $150. I’m pretty sure that actually contracting meningitis would be far less painful than the shot itself.
Also the doctor has called to say that I dont need another appointment for a looonngg time.
I am the comeback queen.
- My crush: You arent pretty enough to marry rich.
- Me: You're not rich enough to marry pretty.
I fear my mother is a lesbonym.
I came home today and my mum was in the kitchen talking with my dad. I overheard them talking about me and tried to listen in but they saw me and so I quickly ran upstairs in a huff.
My mum came into my room and started asking me all sorts of questions about my personal life and good lord I thought she was going to give me the sex talk. I dont think that I would’ve been able to keep down the pop tart I just ate if she did. So she asks me if I had a boyfriend and after the fit of laughter died down I told her no. Then she said “why are you laughing? Are you a lesbian, its cool you can tell me.” I do not sway the lezzie way for the record (not that I have anything against it) And this made me laugh even harder until I was practically hysterical on my bed.
So she is like “why are you laughing?!” and I used a joke from Easy A about why I do not have a boyfriend. I told her that “my complete lack of allure pretty much shot that horse in the face” and then she did this really creepy face and said “I dont know whats the matter with boys, I find you very alluring..”
After the initial shock and disgust wore off I said “Really mother not only is that both lesbionic and incestious, its also illegal as I am a minor. You should be ashamed.”
She got all huffy and left my room and now I’m sitting here laughing like the mad hatter.
Dining with the Deranged.
My mother decided to cook salmon for dinner which is fine except for the fact that I dont eat fish (its something about the scales… idk) Anyway so she made me a hot dog instead. When I came downstairs to eat instead of a nice hot dog all ready, what I found was the dog on a plate.. no bun.My mum said that I could just eat it like that. I told her it was weird not to have the bun and honestly it was overtly sexual I thought. My mum told me not to be a pervert and just eat it (dear god).
What I should also mention is that we had my 3rd cousin over and he is quite creepy. I once caught him trying to watch me change. He’s got really buggy eyes and kind of leers at people with his mouth open. My mother invites him to dinner because we are the only family he has and she feels sorry for him. I would feel sorry, but its hard to sympathize with a rapist.
So There I am, shoving meat into my mouth with him leering at me across the table when my father announces that I will be going to Calgary for a couple weeks to work on my grandparents farm… Does it get worse than this? God must be punishing me for something I’ve done in a past life.. Perhaps I’ll convert to Buddhism.
PS this isn’t the first time that my mother has pulled this shenanigans with the food. She once packed me a tomato in my lunch and told me to eat it like an apple. When I informed her that I couldn’t do that because the juice would go everywhere she told me that I was being difficult and that starving kids around the world would kill for that tomato. I put down a fiver and said to fed ex it to them. tralalalala
A 3 am Nuddy Surprise.
I like to sleep in my birthday suit, especially lately as we are experiencing a heat wave hotter than Channing Tatum. Also its nice to let the twins roam free after being cooped up in a bra all day.
Anyway so I was lying there in my bed at around 3 AM struggling to fall asleep due to the extreme temperature when I began to wonder if this is what menopause is like? And then I wonder if I’m actually going through menopause myself! Have I gone barren from the lack of reproductive use? Its not my fault that boys avoid as though I had leprosy (which I dont btw) And then I reminded myself that perhaps 17 is a bit premature for menopause, its probably just global warming.
So as I lie their on the brink of sleep I hear this loud noise coming from outside. I get up in my disoriented sleepy state and look out the window, there is a team of construction workers using a jackhammer.. at 3:17 in the morning. Normally I would just go back to sleep and try to ignore them but with the racket they were making I knew that sleep would evade me.
So i went outside to talk to them and luckily I remembered my nakedness before I left and threw on a big tshirt because nobody wants to see my pasty bod.
Well I went out to yell at the burly construction men, it turns out that some water main had burst and the municpal government felt that my beauty sleep could be sacrificed to fix this problem. They promised to be done as quickly as possible and I left in a huff.
But as I was leaving a rogue wind blew from the South catching me quite by surprise. The breeze clipped the hem of my shirt and it flew up exposing my pordgy bum to the ten construction worker men. It was just like Marilyn Monroe in the Seven Year Itch, except she looked glamorous and I looked like a buffoon in a backstreetboys tshirt. I got some whistles before I ran into my house and barricaded myself in my room, praying for death. I will be mortified for the rest of my life.
Dennis Quaid thinks he is an international pop sensation.
My father is a man of very few words, he really never speaks unless its absolutely necessary. Which is strange because I am the complete polar opposite, it has been suggested that I talk to hear the sound of my own voice. Anyway my father sits there silently judging my every ridiculous move.For instance today I thought I was home alone so I was preforming the complete soundtrack of Aqua into my hairbrush with accompanying dance move when he walked in on me thrusting to Barbie Girl. He gave me an odd look and said dont hurt yourself and walked away. Neither of us have spoken about the incident.
Another thing that you should know is that he looks identical to Dennis Quaid (the actor who is the dad in the Parent Trap) The resemblance is uncanny, honestly all of my friends call him Dennis!
Lately Dennis has been getting quite sassy and he thinks he is quite the comedian. Now what I am about to tell you haunts me to my very core. Whilst I was scrolling through my tumblr I was a post that said “Harry Styles is the pussy master” (absolute fact) And he saw it over my shoulder and said “yeah I know what that’s like” AS if that wasn’t enough to spill the entire contents of my stomach he… HE WINKED AT MY MOTHER. Dear God what fresh hell is this. I would like to think that after a certain age adults stopped touching each other. He is elderly for Lords sake! He has a senior membership to Sears and he wears loafers! LOAFERS PEOPLE.
As if the pussy comment wasnt enough the next day he came downstairs wearing red shorts and a blue and white stripped shirt. I’m sorry what? I informed him that he was not in fact Louis Tomlinson and that he should change immediately as he was a disgrace to the Tommos good name. His response was not the desired “sure darling daughter you are absolutely correct I do look like a sad fool.” Instead he said “Bloody hell Ive been dressing like this for 60 years, its LEWIS WHATSHISNAME that should change!” I gave him a glacial look and stomped off before I angered the beast more. But before I left I graciously informed him that he has not been dressing like that for 60 years because he wasnt wearing that as an infant and I walked to my room as smug as anything.
Anyways that should give you some insight into my life and why I am painfully abnormal but how could I have turned out right with parents like these?
My fake boyfriend and I live in a palace of love.
So a couple of weeks ago my Grandpa who is pushing 90 and is on the verge of death called to congratulate me on graduating high school and he asked if I had a boyfriend. Instead of laughing like the mad hatter because the thought of a boy showing any interest in me is preposterous, I lied and said yes I did. I figured that it would be like a charity action, bringing joy to my grandad in his final days.
I didnt know what to say so I told him that my boyfriends name is Niall (god I wish). And that he is an Irish exchange student that goes to school with me. I also told him that it has become quite serious and that we will be living together next year. I described how well he can sing and how utterly romantic he was and by the end of the story my grandpa was enthralled!
What I didn’t anticipate was that he was going to tell my entire family about my relationship with Niall. Well tonight I got a call from my nosy parker cousin Elise who asked me a million questions about this mystery boy, she wanted to see pictures and such and she asked me to send her the link to his facebook. Well I couldn’t very well show her a picture of Niall in case she knows who One Direction is! I debated about telling her that he follows the Aboriginal belief that taking pictures steals your soul therefore no photos of him exist and that he doesn’t know how to use the internet so he doesn’t have facebook.
But I decided to go for it and sent her a picture of some random from google (who actually looked quite a bit like the real Niall btw) and now they want to meet him.
Ive decided that this fake boyfriend of mine is becoming quite the hassle and he might have to dissapear in some fatal accident… only time will tell.
