However, before I commence - James, if you're reading this, I am so very incredibly sorry for disturbing you during Physics in all your transitive, fake ape-like glory. I'll do my utmost to repay you in as much red bean or Pocky as it takes; or maybe even Death Note viewings.
Given the antics of this week, I'm beginning to think that stupidity is a transitory possession for everyone except me. So far, I've failed to achieve my goals of obtaining an academic award and acting intellectually minded and thus I've fallen into a black pit of temporary emo-hood, sans atrocious poetry. The work ethic's decreasing at an astounding rate, which is dovetailing inconveniently with imminent exams of the non-VCE variety. To be honest, I'd love to be able to care; however this notion seems incredibly far-fetched as late for reasons unknown. Hopefully this bout of lethargy will be as ephemeral as my vaguely humiliating phone call during which I screamed "I CAN'T HEAR A WORD YOU'RE SAYING!" into my Motorola on an intersection full of skinny-jean and oversized cardigan-toting Korovians, only to hear a subtle murmur of "I'm in the middle of class...". If I may revert to third person, "Bethany endeavours to portray herself as a headstrong, intellectually adept 21st century rolemodel yet contradicts this facade by epitomising every due facet of clumsiness and social ineptitude, not to mention a distinct lack of phone etiquette". Double blah.
Apart from that shameless self-deprecation session, I might also add that today was nothing short of unusual aside from the aforementioned obvious embarrassment. Having abandoned my idea to be physically vandalised by eggs andwater-bombs filled with a plethora of fluids that do not fathom contemplation, I waddled (note: I waddle when I'm embarrassed, don't you dare judge me) down to catch a train to insertstation here, from where I walked to Chadstone Shopping Centre in a bid to curb my self-pity and listen to Motown. With this in mind, I met some interesting (both good and bad) people along the way and since I'm loathing the idea of writing down word for word exactly what happened, I hereby present a collection of short letters addressed to these eccentrics that made me feel like slightly less of a jerk-ette and more human, a feeling which I've never exactly warmed to...
To the Connex Ticket inspector who approached me just as I commenced the application of lip product: The two previously mentioned actions were mere coincidence. Your presence did not motivate me in any way, shape or form, to ameliorate my physical appearance in order to seduce you and the sincere manner that was to follow was purely platonic and nothing more. Being of such an esteemed *sarcastic smile* position in our society, I can surely understand that positive attention from women does not feature heavily in your daily life; however I sincerely hope that you acknowledge the irrelevance of my actions to your bludgeoning libido and maybe one day you'll inspect the ticket of that someone special, be it woman, man or hermaphrodite.
To the slightly-less dishevelled, irrepressibly WEIRD man who walked like he had bees up his crotch, counted his steps and then proceeded to see me and poke me in the eye: Aside from a definite deficiency in social aptitude, what exactly compelled you to partake in said actions? Upon seeing me, did it immediately dawn on you that I appeared to fit your list of mangled criteria of an "Ideal Candidate on which to Manifest My (Your) Eye-Poking Fetish", and was there such a fetish to begin with? If this is the case, I do not feel flattered in any such way by your strange "advances" and in fact felt nothing short of confused, slightly terrified and grateful for my sunglasses that proved an excellent protective barrier from the creepiness dripping from your soul. Had they not been gracing my skull at the time, I'm near-positive that I would have some sort of cancerous conjunctivitis with peculiar side effects, a la counting my steps out loud as I walked. I will, however, thank you for not raping me.
To "Vikram", the Coles shelf-stacker who arbirtarily introduced himself while I was browsing the toothbrush section of the toiletries aisle: Whilst it was a pleasure to meet you, I can't comprehend your intentions for merely walking up to me and asking my name when I appeared to be preoccupied with the rigours of toothbrush selection. I'm assuming your job isn't that hectic if your idea of "work" involves attempting to live vicariously through a seemingly well-intentioned part-time stalker and introduce yourself, only to walk towards the dairy goods section with a feeling of self-satisfaction. I'm sure you're a nice person and all, but really, Facebook and reality are two different realms - with vaguely stalkerish, sporadic introductions being legitimate only in the former. (NB: I'm prepared to disregard this policy for those who are male, eighteen years of age and under, attractive, intelligent, polite, witty and genuinely not a creep).
To that woman who was the spitting image of Roberta Williams (as portrayed in Underbelly), who provided ample support following my "ordeal" with Vikram: You truly are fantastic. Not only were you brilliant in making me forget the negative happenings of my day, you squeezed a chuckle out of me 15 minutes after meeting you knowing that you look like, act like, speak like and undoubtedly think like Roberta Williams. I'll never, ever forget your wise words, to "run quickly, before he comes after you" and I wish you all the success in the future, whether it be at VicRoads or beyond.
Anyway, if you've made it this far, congratulations. Have a splendiferous day, especially if you're part of the class of 2008.
xx
Today I love...motown, warm showers, having something to write about (for once), people who care about me getting massacred on muck-up day, good samaritans, mochaccinos, spending money, not being raped, costumes that make me look ugly, intentional rejection of typical beauty in pursuit of deliberate ugliness, people who don't yell at me, freedom, Melbourne Town Hall and its prime location...
2 tokens of appreciation:
In defence of Vikram, an attractive girl browsing though toothbrush section is an international male-code symbol for "pick me up". And it does take a lot of courage to make that step from "Nameless Stalker" to "Named Stalker".
And can we stop being apologetic and focus on the hilarity of James answering his phone in Spec? After all, why did he a) have it on, and b) answer it?
Cheerio.
Oh, and with regard to the "Today I Love":
Mochaccinos are the greatest; spending money, especially someone else's, is fantastic; not being raped is, of course, one of the greatest things in life; and not being yelled at is always nice.
And know, as CAPTCHA is telling me to write,
Weeholoy!
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