Tuesday, September 30, 2008

First Dates

This was originally published in Girlfriend magazine. It appears here unedited.

Lots of things make me feel awkward.

Swimming carnivals makes me feel awkward. Once, when I was a kid, my brother dared me to ask mum what a tampon is. That made me feel very, very awkward. Leaving class to go to the toilet, doing a poo and returning knowing full well that everyone knows you took too much time to go to pee makes me feel awkward.

First dates are worse then all of the above.

They generally go like this: I spend the whole time worried that I am acting like a twat. I make jokes that aren’t funny and then apologise because they aren’t funny and then there is silence. In the silence I decide she hates me. Which doesn’t make sense because I am pretty sure girls don’t generally go on dates with people they hate. Then, because I spent all that time fretting about what she’s thinking and not what I am doing, I accidentally spill a super-coke on my penis in the cinema and am unhappy because I am cold and sticky, but relieved because I finally made her laugh.

That happened on my first ever date. Another time I invited a girl I liked over for dinner. Because I really liked her I decided to shave for the first time ever and I cut my lip. We had an excruciating evening of trying to fill the space with conversation and nervous laughing. I went in to kiss her and the cut opened. I am fairly sure kisses aren’t supposed to end with “I can taste blood”.

When I was 16, just after I got my boat licence, I took a girl out for a romantic cruise. I then crashed the boat into a very large, very unsurprising bridge. I cut my head open and joked “Look I am one step closer to being Harry Potter”. She didn’t laugh. Then my dad and uncle came and picked us up in white budgie-smugglers.

There are lots of other, gentler awkward things you have to deal with on a first date. Who pays for the dinner/movie? It is 2008 surely it is no longer the man’s responsibility? I am fairly sure the hipsters split the bill now, and when I offer to pay I almost feel like I am insulting the girl.

They are all reasons why I don’t like first dates. But, looking back, I think I had a second date with each of those girls. Probably because they spent the whole time worrying that they are acting stupid and that their hair looks bad. They didn’t have time to notice my shortcomings.

I think the trick with first dates, and I have never been able to put this into practice, is to just try and have fun and not worry about the other person. They said ‘yes’ when you asked them out, they definitely like you. They are probably more scared of you then you are of them… like a spider.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


An Unremarkable Diary: Obituary

In writing class today we had to write our own obituary, I am not sure I followed the task like I was supposed to but here it is:

By the time Josh reached his mid-twenties he had achieved mild fame for being incredibly mediocre at life. Then, seemingly overnight he transformed into an aussie hero. Born in Blackwater but spending his entire childhood in Brisbane, he became a stand-up at age 17. When he was 25 he achieved his life long goal of being voted Cleo’s Most Eligible bachelor. He was most famous for his published collection of romantic memoirs (originally published in Girlfriend magazine) and for being able to crack macadamia nuts between his pecks.
At 26 he was hosting his own tonight show, where me met his first wife ‘Missy Higgins.’ This came as a shock because before this she was a lesbian. They had 3 kids together before Missy tragically died of Breast Cancer. Josh continued to host ‘Josh Tonight’ during the evenings and studied Breast Cancer research during the day, eventually becoming the first person to find a cure for Breast Cancer. He received his first Nobel Prize for this.
Josh released his second book ‘Holy Shit I cured cancer!’ and it became an international bestseller, winning him his second Nobel Prize this time for literature. Shortly after he met his second wife, Nikki Webster. The marriage only lasted 3 days and Josh called it ‘The biggest mistake of my life, even worse then the time I vomited on King Charles.’ When Josh was 30 he retired as a talk show host, wanting to leave the show on a high and travel with his new wife; Delta Goodrum. They spent 4 years together chasing away illegal poachers in Africa, until Delta was tragically struck by lightning and eaten by a Lion.
Josh never remarried, convinced that if he is in a happy marriage his wife will die. He died in New York of a mutant form of cancer surrounded by his children and a variety of whores. He lists his only regret as not staying together with Nikki Webster for long enough for her to have a tragic death.

RIP Metoo

This is one of my dogs. The shitter one.

Today was my first day home in a while. The house felt weird, it took me a while to figure out what was different. Then I remembered my dog 'Metoo' had been put down while I was away.

It is such a sad story, his life.

as a puppy he was abused by his owners, they used to tie him to the clothes line and ride around him on motor cycles.
He was taken by the RSPCA and then adopted by my friend Tom's aunty because she didn't want him to be put down. She adopted too many pets and couldn't keep him, so Tom's family adopted him.
Tom moved into a rental house for a year and the metoo kept trying to attack motorcycles on the street, they couldn't fence the house because it was a rental so we offered to look after him until they found a house.

When they eventually found a house they didn't want him back, Tom's mum offered to put him down for us so we kept 'Metoo.' Even though we didn't really like him. (he is the dog in my pictures section 'The shitter one')

At our last house we got lots of complaints about his barking, he went crazy whenever a motor cycle went past. The complaints included death threats, but we couldn't manage to stop him from barking.
When we moved house he kept barking but so did all the dogs in the neighborhood so we hoped it would be OK.

It wasn't, people started to complain again. My Mum had tried lots of things but he wouldn't stop barking so she decided to, at last, put him down.

I found out in a voicemail message from her, I didn't really mind. I felt awful for my mum, having to make a decision like that and having to go through the whole ordeal alone. But I wasn't too sad about Metoo.

Being home today it has sunk in that he is dead. I feel really horrible for him. Killing a kind animal because he is a bit annoying is so... I don't know.
He was so harmless. I was creeped out by the image of him getting excited because mum is taking him for a drive, and then greeting the Vet with the same bounding enthusiasm he greets anyone with to then lie down and be killed. He would of had no idea what is going on, he probably even enjoyed the rare attention. No chance to fight back, no chance to say I'M SORRY GIVE ME ONE LAST CHANCE I WON'T BARK ANYMORE, I JUST REALLY, REALLY HATE MOTORCYCLES.