It is darned bloody hot, isn’t it? It’s 9:30 (or so) AT NIGHT and still, it is DARNED BLOODY hot. Ooh Clare you rebel, nice swearing. I know! I try.
But actually, I found out today that I’m pretty much amazing at swearing, if that’s something to be proud of, because we did a barbecue thing for the year sevens. How stereotypical Aussie of us, you might say, but I just say darn it was pretty much 35 degrees and it was the middle of the day and there we were, cooking sausages.
I was the Royal Pricker of Sausages, or at least that’s what I deemed myself to be, which meant that I went around with a little knife and pricked the skin of the sausage to let all the oil out, otherwise they would burst. I thought it was quite an important job, which me and Hannah did really well because we had NOT ONE SAUSAGE EXPLOSION. Oh dear I hope you’re not one of those people who sees sexual innuendos in everything they read. I’m not. But if YOU are, that’s awkward.
The barbecue was rather splattery and so my darling SuperPrefects helped me and the other barbecuers to wrap our arms and hands in paper towel so as not to get burnt. Knowing me (which I do! I do know me!), I still got burnt, namely all over my legs and face and Other Exposed Areas. But it was fun and I looked like Edward Forkandknifehands or some other not-so-obscure reference because everyone loves Edward Scissorhands and those who don’t – like Microsoft Word for not recognising it as a real word – should just go and eat an oily, unexploded sausage. Hurrumph.
So I was talking about swearing at some point in time and basically, hot oil hurts and hence the swearing. Also, when it started soaking through the paper towel. Not quite as awful as when I lit my sock on fire though :D
I have a monologue I’m supposed to be creating for drama tomorrow about being in a dungeon. Yay for improv. Maybe I can make it funny, or at least my skewed idea of funny, and say that I was imprisoned for not doing my drama homework. I think I shall do that. Oh – but – in thinking that, does that mean I AM doing my drama homework??? Confusion.
FUNNY THING I SAW TODAY: Parramatta Road has a tonne of wedding dress shops along it. For some reason. Hmm, classy, pulling up next to Rays Outdoors or something and popping across to the road to buy your wedding dress. Meh who am I to judge? Except there’s this one wedding dress in this one shop that’s in the front window now and it’s basically a very white and crystally bra thing joined to a long white crystally skirt by STRIPS OF WHITE LACE. WITH SEE-THROUGH BITS. (Obviously I know my fashion terms.) But seriously. A slutty wedding dress?? I just don’t understand. So I made up a bit of a conversation in my head because that’s just how I roll. Okay??
CUSTOMER: [I imagined a sort of fake tan and platinum blonde lady for this, sorry but I just imagine things in stereotypes cause it’s easier.] Oh my God this wedding dress is soooo hot.
SHOP KEEPER: [This is all said in one of those not-really-sincere motherly voices. You know the ones. STEREOTYPES J] Ngaw, sweetheart, that’s just gawgeous.
CUSTOMER: Mhmm well I’m really trying to impress the best man. He’s scrummy. [Scrummy? Scrummy? Really?]
SHOP KEEPER: Darl, that’s so romantic.
I don’t know it just confused me. If you’re just about to dedicate yourself fully in holy matrimony to one person, why the sluttiness? WHY? What are you trying to prove?
Bye I love you?
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