Living a lifestyle that doesn’t have the ability to provide you with a single smidge of negativity is almost impossible. I think of pure happiness as an impossible feat given there are such simple actions, events and objects than can simply drain the life out of you – or should I say me? Like I can be all happy days until I want to consume a little bit chocolate only to be heartbroken upon discovering that the 4 packets of Tim-Tams that I purchased less than 24 hours ago, have been eaten by the four other family members that I reside with. If that isn’t an FML moment, then what is?
There are particular points during that day that will forever ruin my day, for one; my god damn alarm. If I didn’t love my phone so much, I’d certainly throw it at the wall. However I live in a digital age that relies on a Mobile phone to basically survive – sometimes I do detox though. A technology detox is a fabulous thing, assisted primarily by my grandparents living in a country town with little reception making it easier given you can’t really do anything without the internet these days. I don’t even know why they have phone plans based around credit for texts and phone calls – the only people I text are my parents and my boss yanno.
The struggle of life is really inevitable, just last month I lost my favourite bra – now for guys, you probably have no bloody idea how that feels. But losing your favourite bra is like losing the left foot of your go-to pair of shoes – it fucking sucks. I live in a house with two brothers, the existence of my oversized t-shirts is shorter than an asthmatic breathe. One wear and it’ll end up in someone else’s washing pile, I even found my Guns and Roses band t-shirt in my dad’s washing pile just last week. I also have a great talent of finding my jeans in my brothers’ washing piles. Mind you, my brothers are both above six foot and I’m an average five foot six inches, it’s funny how my jeans could ever be put into their pile – they’d be like three quarter capris!
I mean my height is technically above the Australian average for females so I certainly can’t complain. But I can’t reach the top of my wardrobe without the sensation of an upcoming cramp in my lower limbs, or of course assistance from a kitchen chair or a taller sibling. I was always the shortest person in my family so I learnt to deal with short people jokes and abrupt argument endings with my younger brothers’, however I believe my father is shrinking and my title of the shortest is getting a promotion. HIP HIP HOORAH!
However being of an average-ish height leaves me susseptable to intimate moments with male armpits on a sardine train and with average length arms – you won’t find me competing with a Michael Jordan ‘Wings’ poster(!) – I certainly cannot reach half the assistance provided to passengers such as bars, railing and handles. My sarcasm level is quite high when I say I find pleasure in falling into people whilst surrounded by a dozen school bags nestled at my feet. I mean it’s hard enough to stand on a train let alone have no room to test your reflexes in repositioning your feet let alone hold onto a bar above your head.
But what’s worse than losing your balance? Taking length coffee orders beginning with “decaf”. Why? I simply cannot understand the logic behind it. You go to such trouble to detail a complex ofer by coffee standards and then you dump caffeine! It’s a logic I simply cannot understand, but of course, must condone.
Of course this blog wouldn’t be complete with a mention of fuckboys, hypocrites and lazy ass bitches (or sibling’s). Although I can’t necessarily elaborate on all of the previously mentioned at this present time, just know that I feel ya. I can however reiterate my adoration for people who cannot drive. Don’t drive in the far lane, simple. Don’t merge at 60km/hour, you will get someone killed! I have spent the past few weeks ogling my father’s odometer and I don’t even know how we are related! He merges at 50km/hour, I question how I’m still alive sometimes! Just get off the road, safely, pls!
…and now I’m really hungry. Cheerio!