Music Time

Hello world! (This is me. Life should be … oooh yeah fun for everyone.) Anyway I think it’s time for a little bit of music because today I’ve been studying and when I say studying I mean I wrote out about 500 vocab flashcards for French – that’s right, now I KNOW STUFF. Um but during that time I also just listened to a lot of songs and now, perhaps, I will share them with you, because that’s what good friends do. Yes?

This song’s a little bit hilarious and Bec, Nirvana and I saw the band perform at Peat’s Ridge. It was brilliance and amusement rolled into one little ball of fun. Also, Dan Kelly was on The Late Session on SBS, I don’t know whether anyone else watches that show … it’s really good though so you should.

And this one – California Dreaming – I listened to a hundred times or whatever today. Because it’s so applicable and all? We’re in the winter of the HSC, all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey, and I’m dreaming of the California of post-HSC life. J I am going to read SO MANY BOOKS and I will not have to analyse them. NOT ONE BIT.

 

And finally a bit of Tiddas because I was so shocked to find them on Youtube and they’re pretty brilliant. Yummy yummy harmonies. By the way, this music is the music of my childhood – when we went to Woodford Folk Festival or the Blues & Roots one in the Blue Mountains we’d listen to them. Absolutely gorgeous.

Alright. Bye then. (TO MODERN HISTORY STUDY – YIPEE!)

x

Anonymouse

If I could do my drama IP on anything in the world, it would be a monologue from the POV of Anonymouse – a mouse that has written all of the amazing sayings and poems and songs in the world that don’t have an author’s name. And now, because I have finished my real IP (HAHAHAHA I wish) I will write this imaginary one.

Anonymouse

You know what they say … a closed mouth gathers no feet. Well fuck that! I’m going to say what I want, and I just won’t tell the world who I really am. All I have to do is cut the ‘e’ off my name …

That’s right. I bet you always wondered where the word ‘anonymous’ came from. [Gangster tone] Well, my name’s Anony and I’m a mouse. Ta da! [Slowly looks at the ground with dawning sadness]

Some people – the people who know, that is – ask me how I can do it. I have given society so much and received no credit. Don’t even have a boyfriend … haven’t been kissed. Few days ago someone tried to kill me with a mousetrap! I squeaked, DUDE, if you enjoy the fruit, pluck not the flower! You’d think they might learn, these humans. But no. Bad habits are like a comfortable bed – easy to get into, but hard to get out of.

And they don’t fool me, either. I know why they like my quotes, I do. It’s cause they can just use them wherever they want and they don’t have to worry about fucking copyright issues. [Begins to cry] Is a little recognition too much to ask for? I say it doesn’t matter to me, that I’d prefer them to not know who I am, but it’s not true. I deserve so much more. We mice deserve SO MUCH MORE. [A moment of realisation] I’m doing this for all mouse-kind.

Write a wise saying and your name will live forever. Well, I have written thousands upon thousands of wise sayings and my name IS living forever. ANONYMOUSE. There until eternity, there until the stars explode into flecks of dust that will eventually cover my words. But there it is, my name, in the heavens. They just don’t know it yet.

The End

Haha I’m pretty happy with that. Who knows, someday I might use it. And uh-uh-uh! Don’t even think about questioning the swearing. Don’t you know anything? All drama monologues have some level of coarse language in them. My friend Kate said a whole bunch of swear words, even the c-word, which I haven’t ever thought about saying so I won’t now, to my drama teacher (in context, but still) and my teacher didn’t even blink an eye. It’s what drama’s about, kids.

Right. Well. Night!

Lots of love,

ANONYMOUSE

A little nonsense now and then

Is relished by the wisest men

-Anonymouse.

Managing HSC Stress - The Seminar

Well, today we had a special HSC stress management seminar thingo that took up half of our modern double and most of lunch. I know! It better have been useful, you think. Oh, yes, it was very useful. I took the best notes EVER.

We file into the Campbell Hall and sit down in the rows of blue plastic chairs. Up the front, this lady is flicking through PowerPoint slides with titles like “The ABC Model!” and “Avoiding HSC Myths!” I go in with a neutral mindset, trying to be fair to this lady (she’s from UTS and has a psychology degree of some description, after all), but after she tells us in about five minutes that she’s going to try and get through it as quickly as possible I can’t help being a bit cynical. So I took the following notes.

·         Use a lot of exclamation marks – It depends on how you think!!!!! This is sooo bad!!

·         If you’re feeling stressed, you need to DO SOMETHING. I’m going to vent. About how stupid HSC stress management seminars are.

·         Ooh the tricky part – and it’s labelled the ABC model.

·         “Has anyone ever not got the mark they wanted in a test?” NO. I am a perfect human being.

·         This is how you feel: unmotivated, sad, hopeless, stupid. WOW. Thank you so much for that.

·         “When you catastrophise you predict a catastrophe.” 1. Catastrophise is not a word. 2. I am worried about school … oh my gosh next Tuesday there’s going to be a landslide in Dubbo!

·         I love how when these presenters talk they think that everything they’re saying is ground-breaking. They stand at the microphone with their arm dangling over the podium and say, “You think about things in extremes … yes? So think about it IN PERSPECTIVE. It’s easy now, huh? You’re welcome!”

·         “We identify and try to challenge the patterns of unhelpful thinking that are causing you to feel stressed!!!” …OKAY!!!

·         If you’re sitting on a train and feeling stressed, imagine consoling a friend about the same problem. Have a little chat about it. (Wait … talk to myself, on the train? Out loud? I’m confused … Clare, don’t be confused, just smile! … You’re right, Clare. What’s that lady looking at over there? … I think it may be us. You. Me. You know?)

·         Did she really just offer us sheets that we can pick up from the front telling us the Three Points to Success and suggest we laminate the sheet and put it on the back of the bathroom door? Really?

·         Avoid buying into HSC myths! Myth #1 Year of ceaseless toil!! (Haha, year of ceaseless toil. Is there a more ridiculous way of saying that?)

·         “I stayed in the school choir during the HSC … and it just made my heart sing.” Hahahaha accidental puns.

So an hour of useless stuff later, this is the lady’s ultimate message.

Key things to take away from today:

·         Breathe.

·         Do it.

·         Think helpfully.

Wow thank you so much.

J That was fun. Um also I was watching the 7pm Project tonight and there was a bit of shameless cross-promotion going on, nothing unusual really. They presented, as news, a promo for Sunday’s episode of Bondi Rescue, disguising it as a beach safety announcement. While this is disappointing but expected, I thought it was really funny when the anchorman-guy said, “Now before you dismiss this as a plug for Bondi Rescue, just hear this story of a boy you lifeguards rescued …” and at the end of the ‘news’ piece, he said, “And you can catch the full story here on Channel Ten on Sunday night.”

Okay well this weekend I’m studying, maybe going to State Library with Chloe, and maybe I’ll grab myself one of those macaroons she and Phoebe are always going on about. Other than that, I’ll be breathing, just doing it, and thinking helpfully. And not watching Bondi Rescue thanks very much all the same.

Ciao bella and TTFN and maybe if I have time I’ll write a post about Harry Potter which I’ve been dying to do for ages but haven’t gotten round to it.

Love youse all. (Doesn’t that make you just cringe?)

x

The Baxter Classification System

*For a long time now I have relied on what I find really a most important system with which to classify books by. I not only shelve my books in alphabetical order on my shelf, but I also have colour-coded stickers on them so that, at a glance, I can see which type of story I am about to embark upon. Believe it or not, by self-devised system for classification has saved by life, knocking hours off the time I might have spent searching for a book I felt like reading, or starting one that, after all, I couldn’t muster at that moment in time*. So I decided to share with you by brilliant system. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A Lemonade Book: A lemonade book is like a glass of lemonade. Usually, children or teenagers will read a lemonade book because it quenches their thirst without tasting disgusting, and it fills up their stomach with bubbles of air. It’s very bad for you and rots your teeth, often with its misplaced commas and air-head dialogue. An example of a lemonade book is Twilight. (OOH YEAH I went there)

A Wine Book: A wine book is more of an adult book, which, although it is yummy for people who are used to reading it, it can often give people headaches. It doesn’t taste very good and you only want a little bit of a wine book at a time. If digested too quickly, it can lead to nausea and dizziness. An example of a wine book is Oliver Twist. (Yuck.)

A Tomato Juice Book: Tomato juice books can be enjoyed by many. It fills your stomach with good nutritious dialogue, plot and descriptive passages. There are so many taste sensations when you read a tomato juice book that you wonder how the author put so much depth into the flavour. It can be read again and again, each time a new spice or flavour might be revealed. They may or may not be what everyone is drinking at school, but nonetheless, they are pretty brilliant, especially when consumed when it’s cold and rainy outside. An example of a tomato juice book is Slaughterhouse Five or, and it goes without saying, HARRY POTTER.

So there is the brilliant Baxter Classification System (BCS) (I hope that doesn’t already stand for something embarrassing, like Bowel and Colon Services or something …)

Bye.

*Sarcasm. Although the system itself is a good one, no?

Liking Stuff on Facebook

Okay so I’m bored, and I’m on Facebook, and my entire home page is filled up with just this one guy liking pages. Not just one page, or five pages, but probably about twenty or so ridiculous, hilarious pages. And you know what?

It is the funniest thing EVER. Keep liking pages, He-Who-I-Shall-Not-Name. It’s really made my evening. Wow, that’s a bit lame. But seriously. After sitting through Ian Nelson on Q&A, which I love, but GRRR Nelson is the biggest well dickhead, I needed some light relief and you are really delivering. So thank you. And now I will share some of your ‘likes’ with the world. Or seven people. Or something. J

Number One – Cramps

Boys: You want to know what period cramps feel like?
Imagine being kicked hard in the balls.
And then recovering.
And then being kicked again.
And then recovering.
And then being kicked again...and again...and again.
So forgive us girls for being a little bitchy on our time of the month.
...
Fuck off, if that where true, you's would be on the ground, in tears, all day long and not even be able to bitch due to immense pain...

Number Two – This apparently makes sense to 119 people …

if i could rearrange the alphabet id rip your ass-hole out of your body with a fucking candy-cane

Number Three – My respect for you just reached a whole new level!

like this if you've ever dropped your phone on your face. -.-

Number Four – Ah, modern day romance.

No ones afraid of swimming
they are afraid of drowning
No ones afraid of hights
they are afraid of falling
No ones afraid of love
There afraid of rejection..</3

Number Five – I tell you what else is like a dick?

Religion is like a dick.
Its okay to have one, and its fine to be proud of it.
But you don't whip it out in public and swing it around,
and for God's sake don't try to shove it down my kids throat.

Number Six – Um …

Mom:GO EAT THE FUCKING FISHSTICKS.
Me:I DONT WANT TO EAT THE FUCKING FISHSTICKS
Mom: sorry, I had a tourettes moment. Please go eat the fucking fishsticks. :)
Me:*walks away mumbling* Maybe I dont want to eat the fucking fishsticks.
Mom:WHAT DID YOU SAY!?
Me: I SAID IM GOING TO EAT THE FUCKING FISHSTICKS!
Mom: Oh, OK :)

Number Seven – Look, I thought you were a guy.

So if being pretty means skipping meals,always wearing tank tops or mini skirts,having guys ask you out 24/7,never playing video games,being friends with everyone you ever meet,spending hours on your hair everyday,and spending hundreds of dollars on clothes,then I guess I'd rather be ugly.

Number Eight – Ah, the old declaring-the-love-via-fb-likes thing. It’s faster than thinking up a status! (Plus it's got a semi-colon in; it must be intelligent)

Guess what? she's one of my best friends. and i don't care if you weigh twice as much as me and are a foot taller; if you break her heart I'll break your face. :)

And finally Number Nine – Objectifying women reaches a new level!

Girls are like apples on a tree. Boys usually go for the easy ones, not the ones that are on top, because they are too hard to get. But someday, a special boy will use a ladder to come and get you and he'll be proud to have you, because you were worth the climb.

***

Okay. I’m a bitch. I just find it hilarious. Does He-Who-I-Shall-Not-Name not know that every single one of his fb friends can see what he has liked? It has officially been broadcast to *awkward stalking moment* 452 people.

See, this is what a blog is for. You can write and say whatever you want, and only people who care will look at it. And if they judge you, you can shoot back with the old, THEN DON’T READ IT THEN.

Unfortunately, that’s not how Facebook works.

Okay bye and know I will BREAK A FACE for you, as long as you give me the FUCKING FISHSTICKS. (are these like fish fingers? i hope so.)

x

It's not going to work *Hermione Granger quote*

I was writing my essay for extension one, which is terrible, by the way, because I don’t really know anything about After the Bomb … BUT ANYWAY I remembered something from a long time ago.

I was in year two and my teacher was mentioning world war two for some reason, and I thought she said world wall two. For practically that entire year I pondered where this world wall was, and whether any part of it was anywhere near Sydney, and if not, it ought to be, seeing as it was a world wall after all.

Some other things I’ve been wondering lately (almost constantly) …

When newsreaders speak off TV, like when they are at home or with friends or something, do they still do their annoying newsreader voice?

How come cockroaches can survive a nuclear holocaust but not a quick spray of Low Irritant Surface Spray – for crawling insects?

Oh and there’s this other thing. The prefects of the Sydney Highs are having a netball match … as well as our annual bin ball match. Too much of a good thing, I’m thinking. The thing is, practically no one on our side of the proverbial fence (although there was once a fence between the schools – people just walked around it though) wants to play netball. It’s totally the boys’ idea. THERE ARE SO MANY REASONS WHY NETBALL WOULD SUCK TO PLAY. Trust me.  Or I’ll tell you them.

1.       NO ONE WANTS TO WATCH NETBALL. It is one of the most boring sports to watch. Unless you know the rules and there’s a really good team playing who play by the rules, but otherwise it sucks.

2.       There are too many rules. And if you don’t know them and don’t play by them, then it is terrible because it just doesn’t work. I’m just going to assume that more than three-quarters of the people who will be playing won’t know the rules, because certainly half of our prefects don’t. WHICH IS FINE. I’m just saying. No rules = more pain. It’s true. You know it. (Hey all of these points have little segues into the next one. Aren’t you proud of me? If only I could do this in my English essays …)

3.      It’s pretty dangerous. After rugby, I think it’s the highest grossing sport for physical injuries (I don’t know why I said physical … but the psychological ones would probably be pretty huge too. Just think of all the emasculation that will occur.) But yeah, for bin ball, all that happens is you peg balls at each other, a safe distance of about five or so metres between you. In netball there’s pushing and shoving and awkwardly landing on ankles. I just don’t think it’s going to work.

4.      Only 14 people can play at a time. And last time I checked, which was on Friday, and I didn’t actually check I just found out by default, but Sydney Boys has 36 prefects. We have 20. That’s 56 prefects and only 14 playing at once. So … what’s going to happen with that?

5.      It’s tradition to play bin ball. But we are still playing bin ball, so I guess that argument’s out. Nonetheless.

6.      Are we going to play on the basketball courts? I know this isn’t a major argument, but still. That’s the best place to stage a charity game thing, and think about it … it’s a basketball court. Backboards and all. So there.



The beautiful prefects. :) Love you guys! 

Anyway, so that’s what I came up with as to why we should not be playing netball. But there we were, eating our banana bread, which was really nice by the way, and everyone said, OH MY GOSH LET’S PLAY NETBALL YAY! Even the people I had spoken to earlier who had said, Ew! Seriously? That’s never going to work. Oh, people.

*Sigh*

*Rant finished*

*Back to extension one*

*Sighing again because that took longer than I had expected*

*Bye*

*Oh gosh wait I mean*

Bye!

Nondescript Animal Noises

Is there any such thing?

Okay this isn’t really about the perhaps dull nature of some sounds that particular animals make. (P.S. Lou I love you and this afternoon was so much fun. YAY.) Oh no. This is about ANNOYING THINGS.

Have you ever been on a bus and standing in the No Standing area at the back door? You have your pole that maybe you’re resting your bag against, you’re nice and comfy and out of people’s ways. But then the bus stops and someone tries to get off. You move away to let them through. They get out. Then you turn back to reclaim your pole and SOMEONE HAS STOLEN IT. You are now left in the middle of the No Standing area with nothing to support you. The only thing you can do is fall. How annoying.

Once more, you’re on the bus. You’re running late for school but don’t know the time and it’s too hard to grab your phone to check. So you try to look at someone’s wristwatch, but it’s conveniently turned away from you. THE TIME IS NOT A SECRET. Oh my goodness just put your wristwatch facing out, please. But no, all you can do is … well, not know the time. How annoying.

So both of those things happened to me on the bus this morning, but I was so determined to figure out the time from this person’s wristwatch that I leaned really far over to see it, and ended up overbalancing and tripping over my school bag. Ah, I am so coordinated.

Finally, let’s just finish off with a nice moment of cuteness. Anyone watch Q&A last night on the ABC? Oh it was just adorable, at the end there was this clip that they had videoed as part of the practice footage at the beginning of the show, before it went to air, right. Then this one guy said,

“I have just one question, but it’s not for any of the panel members.” Then he turns to the woman sitting next to him, tells her he’s in love with her, then gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

And she said yes, which was nice.

Here is a pretty song:

And here's a song for Chloe and Pheobe (which makes me laugh every time):

Buh bye.

x

The Smart School is Stupid

Grr. There is nothing that annoys me more than superfluous handrails. (Okay there are some things. But this is about superfluous handrails.)

During the holidays my school took the bright initiative to install a brand new set of shiny metal handrails on several of the staircases – namely, the ones near the maths rooms. But OH! There already are handrails – lovely old wooden ones, soft and smoothed down after years of use. I have used the old handrails for the past five years and I haven’t fallen down the stairs all that often. They’re fine, goddammit. Please spend the money on air conditioning.

So I hereby announce my BOYCOTTING of these stupid ugly metal cold handrails. I will not touch them. I will reach that little bit further over the top of them to place my hand upon the warm and probably disease-ridden wooden ones. TAKE THAT.

In other news, I went to the dentist today, and despite the lacking of grape or bubble gum-flavoured gloves, I have really good teeth. None of that annoying vacuuming-the-tongue-awkwardly thing for me. No fluoride rinse. No crowns or fillings or braces or anaesthetics or time. My dentist spent about two minutes checking my teeth, and then went to talk to my mum while I had a lovely conversation with his assistant, WHO WAS FROM HUNGARY! (Near Sweden – okay not near Sweden. But it IS in Europe.)

But there’s this brilliant sticker that I always look at when I’m in The Chair – it’s on the lamp thingy – which says “Remember to Breathe”. And I do! It’s brilliant. I also love how when I finish in the dentist we always go to the bakery a few doors up and get a neenish tart. It’s a bit ironic.

Um um is that all? Probably. Had a nice time this morning chilling in the common room and talking about dental experiences. Also – reading Danielle’s belonging story. Oh my goodness it’s brilliant, so clever, so unexpected! I’m jealous. J

Right well BYE from the girl with the good teeth.

(I’m going to upload some photos one of these days. Also, I have this video I took that I might show you if I can work out how to. It’s … sparkly. AND SORRY ABOUT THE TWILIGHT POST. How unfortunate. I only did it because the website is really cool – normally I wouldn’t waste my time talking about Twilight – I prefer to waste my time doing awesome things, LIKE MAKING A HARRY POTTER BAND WITH MY FRIENDSIES. More on our band when we come up with a name, and write some songs, and play some.)

Some more LOVE.

Claudia - YOU ARE WRONG

Here is my best friend Claudia: *J and here is me: L* (the asterisks are our ponytails by the way).

So: *J> Hey Clare! You write like Stephanie Meyer.

L*> WHAT? What are you talking about?? What?

*J> Your blog about the IGS kid. “Like a marble statue.” Come on.

L*> Oh my God. Oh my God. Well I am just a stupid girl who falls over a lot what can I say?

*J> Hahaha.

L*> I really … I didn’t … that’s what … ARGH.

*J> Hahaha.

L*> Well … I might write like Stephanie Meyer, but you noticed. What does that say about you, huh?

*J> No!

J*> Haha YES YES YES.

*J> No, just look at this website.

And anyway that’s when she showed me the funniest website in the world. That you must look at. (Click on the picture, by the way.)

So check that out and ENJOY, because it's funny.

Holy I don’t like Twilight. Save yourself! If you haven’t read it, DON’T.

On that note … does anyone want to buy the first three Twilight books off me? I’m asking for a chocolate paddle pop. But highest bidder of chocolate paddle pops wins.  

*Just a short one today, evidently. I'm tired, and I'm dying.

DEATH BY ENGLISH EXTENSION TWO.

Love you.

I'm in LOVE. Still.

Is there something, Clare, that you’ve been meaning to rant about for ages on this blog that no one reads because we’re actually cool people and hence you won’t have to be embarrassed by it not that you are anyway but that you might want to share with us RIGHT NOW because you have time and don’t want to do extension two logbook stuff?

Um yes there is! Funny you would ask actually. That thing, that I love, that you apparently are desperate to hear about, is Sweden.

Sweden? I hear you ask. What is a Sweden? Ah, well, let me illuminate you and your poor deprived Sweden-less minds.

Sweden is what I love. Or rather, Swedish. The language. And the people who speak it. Holy moly I am in lurve with anyone Swedish. Are you Swedish? Call me. *Wink*

Just kidding. But no seriously it’s heaps cool. I, for one, am proud to say that I am, somewhere back in my ancestry, a little bit Swedish. My great-great-great grandfather or something had one of those typical Swedish names, I’m pretty sure it was Sven something, and was from Sweden, which just makes me generally a better person in some way, shape or form. But that’s not actually where my love affair began with all things Swedish. No. It started with a movie.

I can’t remember what it was called actually. It was on the World Movies channel though and there wasn’t much on so mum and I watched it. And then I learnt that Swedish was just a brilliant, amazing language that sounds so beautiful and lyrical. Yeah, it’s not as sexy as French, true, or as popular as a British accent, but I found myself at once strangely and dangerously attracted to it.

Suddenly Swedish stuff just popped up everywhere. I was listening to 702 (I told you I’m cool) one night whilst doing my chores and, whoops, they were interviewing two singer/songwriters from Sweden who then played this gorgeous song and I forget what their name was but it was just brilliant.

We do Belonging for English in year twelve and last term my English teacher brought in a DVD called As It Is In Heaven and she said it was a foreign language film and I laughed and turned to my English Advanced bestie Mahrukh and said, haha if it was in Swedish. AND IT WAS. And then my entire class fell in love with Swedish. Or something along those lines. And I understood when they said that it was eleven o’clock – klockan elva – because I’ve been teaching myself the language.

So what can I say in Swedish? Not much, actually. I can say thank you – tack. And I can say thank you so much – tack så mycket. And I can say which country do you come from? – Vilket land kommer du ifrån? Pardon my spelling. I don’t know how to spell Swedish, only to say it, and it sounds pretty cool. I know other things, too, like numbers up to and including six and then also eleven.

OH MY GOD THERE IS A MASSIVE COCKROACH IN MY ROOM. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t swear. But it is pretty massive. That’s what she said! Dearie dearie me I am being such a child this afternoon. Plus then I just read back on what I had written and oh dear. I used the word ‘bestie’. I’m not usually like this, sometimes I write nice things. Someday I’ll show you something nice I have written. But not today. For today, I am a child! WAHOO. Oh right I need to get rid of that cockroach. I will be right back with low irritant surface spray for crawling insects. Hopefully it will irritate the cockroach though. Oh dear. It’s gone underneath my bedside table/chest of drawers (it’s multipurpose!). That means it’s both dangerously close to my head and unable to be reached. FOR NOW. MWAHAHAHA cockroach you are being awaited by a murderous teenage girl with a 250g can of low irritant surface spray for crawling insects. And I don’t take any prisoners.

What’s worse do you reckon, cane toads or cockroaches? I remember discussing this in French last week because we were doing stuff about the Queensland floods and apparently all the cane toads were trying to escape them or something. And then we started talking about how Queenslanders are the cane toads and New South Wales-ians are the cockroaches. I would say, I’d much rather not have a cane toad in my room. Plus they kill a whole bunch of other animals and have … I don’t want to say ‘wiped out’ because that’s extreme and I don’t really know if it’s true or not … severely depleted frog populations in Queensland as well as other stuff. And they’re slowly encroaching on the rest of Australia. Cockroaches are just there, and they’re icky, and yes, they fly, which is disgusting, but I live in Sydney. There are so many cockroaches in Sydney that you just have to get used to them. Sometimes I go walking around the streets of my VERY SAFE suburb at night and I like to walk barefoot in the rain because I’m a super hippy or something and I have to watch carefully because sometimes the ground seems to move and it’s just a whole bunch of cockroaches streaming across the path.

I’m kidding! There are lots of cockroaches but not that many. Although once a month or so ago I did step on a slug when I was walking in the dark. Then I walked into a spider web and did the Awkward Spider Dance. :S Yeah. I’m so cool.

Okay I’m really glad that insect spray is low irritant because I actually just used half the can killing that cockroach. Yay!

Did you know? There’re places in Queensland where you can go and kill cane toads and then put them in a bag and then give them in at the corner shop and if you get a certain amount you get a free ice cream.

Did you know? There’s an average of one spider in every square metre in Australia.

Did you know? I forgot that this was supposed to be about Sweden so I should give you some Sweden facts.

Did you know? The Crown Prince of Sweden, Prince Carl Phillip, is rated number 9 in the Forbes List of the 20 Hottest Young Royals. It’s sad that I know this, I know, but it was for a speech I had to do in French class about what/who we want to do OH MY GOD I’M BEING AWFUL AGAIN I KNOW when we grow up. Mine went along the lines of being in a theatre group that toured Europe and then making that guy, Prince Carl Phillip, number 9 in the Forbes List of the 20 Hottest Young Royals, fall in love with me, then becoming Princess of Sweden, and then invading Greenland because that’s an in-joke that you don’t understand unless you know me and Tiantian and Amelia and a whole bunch of other people that I love a lot. Amelia, you’re wrong.

Did you know? I didn’t, not really, only because it had something to do with Prince Carl Phillip of Sweden (Sweden … sigh …) I SWEAR, but there’s a list of the 20 Hottest Young Royals and now I’m really interested to see it. Placing bets, anyone, anyone?

1.       Prince William. – Um, maybe back in 2008 … which was when this article was written oh my bad. He’s got a bald spot. Ew. But English accent. That’s a positive thing.

2.       Prince Harry. – Meh. I don’t think I’m really into the English royal family at the moment, actually. They just don’t cut it for me.

3.      Zara Phillips. – Another English person. Bloody ‘ell. Haha my dad made a joke about that the other day. I couldn’t find my L-plates and he looked at me and put on a Cockney accent and said, “Aw, bloody ‘ell!” Well I laughed anyway. WHY OH WHY DID I DO THIS? TWENTY ROYALS THAT’S A WHOLE BUNCH! I’ll just put a hyperlink to the pictures of them.

http://www.forbes.com/2008/05/23/royals-celebrity-monarchs-biz-billies-cz_ls_0527royals_slide_2.html?thisspeed=25000

You’re welcome! And I have a feeling by ‘hottest’ they just meant coolest or most out and about. Because number eight, that Azim guy. What? Carl is so much hotter. Seriously.

 




That’s Carl Phillip by the way. YOU’RE WELCOME ONCE MORE. Not the most attractive photo, just the one the Forbes magazine used. I AM NOT A WEIRD STALKER. He’s 32 or something along those lines. Actually he is exactly 32 and that just confirmed my weird stalkingness. I don’t really want him. I just want to be princess of Sweden. And invade Greenland. And I told you already that I’m dangerously attracted to Swedish people. Dangerously and also probably awkwardly.

 

So what do you reckon? WHO IS THE HOTTEST YOUNG ROYAL? Actually oh my goodness, number 17, Sheikha Maitha, is a karate and taekwondo princess, apparently. That is just amazing. She’s like Jasmine! Oh dear. I think I need to sleep. Which is annoying because it isn’t even five.

Bye bye bunnies.

FLASHBACK

Tomorrow we are going to year seven camp! Wait! I hear you say. But you are too cool and OLD to be going to year seven camp. Ah, well, you have a point there, but we’s be prefects and we’re going to go do a little skit for the year sevens and play games and just be cool and awesome year twelve kiddiewinks. (Side note – my primary school teacher used to call us kiddiewinks and I don’t know how to spell it and I’ve never been called a kiddiewink or thought or said the word since in any shape or form, that is for five and a bit years and just suddenly I used it then and it when I typed it I thought it in my head and I thought it IN THE VOICE OF MY PRIMARY SCHOOL TEACHER. How strange, the brain.)

So I thought this might be a nice time to do a little FLASHBACK FLASHBACK FLASHBACK to year ten camp, when we revisited the place we went to for year seven camp (yes, that means this will be my third time) and it was rather lovely and I wrote a poem about it because I am just so cool like that. So a poem? I think so. It’s called Crappy Poem, apparently, and the title, although not intentional, is sort of applicable because it’s about a toilet.

Crappy Poem

For the lack of a lock

We all have to knock

When on toilet we worry and blush

And to let people know

That we have to go

We hum and we cough and we flush

Pete Wentz is too short

Dolly magazine taught

Would you rather keeps us up all night

With junk food galore

All our clothes on the floor

Room Five is a bit of a sight

“Decide to have a go”

Let’s play some Uno

The back door has never a lock

Good night Bogan Crew

And all Room Five too

But when entering the toilet

KNOCK

Ohmygoodness wasn’t that amazing? I was inspired by the toilet. (I’m sooo classy.) It had no lock on the door evidently. WHY AM I WEARING HEADPHONES I’M NOT EVEN LISTENING TO MUSIC! And please excuse the dodgy rhythm pattern in the last stanza it sorta sucks. But otherwise it’s a poem with lots of heart maybe and several in-jokes. Or the other way around.

I have a nightie – OH MY GOSH YOU HAVE A NIGHTIE THAT’S SO COOL WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE? – and it’s blue and has a cartoon of a girl dressed up in a bunny rabbit suit on the front carrying a carrot that’s as tall as she is and written around it is funny things like “fresh?” and “need” with a ribbon underneath it, and my personal favourite – “I love you – you love me (?)” And I didn’t add the question mark in the brackets, IT’S ON THE NIGHTIE. Doesn’t that make it infinitesimally cooler? To me it does. Because I put stuff in brackets very often. In fact, brackets are MY BEST FRIENDS. Also, capital letters, because I hate exclamation marks and boycott them and use capital letters instead. But you wouldn’t know that because this is my place to write crappily and hence I use exclamation marks here. I keep forgetting to put the ‘c’ into exclamation. Grr.

One day I’ll take a photo of my nightie and then transfer it from the camera to my computer and then upload it onto my blog and you can revel in its awesomeness. One day. As I'm now actually 'tidying my room'.

I love you – you love me (?)

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