The Phallogynist (??)

I go to an all-girls school. Can you tell? I am going to confirm right here right now once and for all that this has a supremely large effect on my day-to-day behaviour.

When I was in primary school I decided that co-education was the path for me. I thought, if you go to a single-sex school, you are not prepared for real life, you won’t have the skills required to talk to the opposite gender, you’re screwed, basically. And then I got into Sydney Girls, and now I’m here after six years of single-sex education, and I am a self-proclaimed Phallogynist.

I also made up the word, with Lox’s help of course. A Phallogynist, if you’re wondering, is someone who hates males (as per misogynist and phallocentric and other such words whose stems/structure I stole).

Ew, boys are gross. Every single last one of them, and I’m going to admit it now, even the ones from Sweden. There’s nothing worse than getting on a lovely cool empty 610 of an afternoon and starting to cruise down Anzac Parade before grinding to a horrifying halt in front of the boys’ school. The disgust when you realise you’re going to have to contract into the back seat as opposed to sprawl over half the bus to make room for noisy, smelly, squeaky boys is indescribable. Ew yuck, basically.

Nonetheless, some theories I will have to discount: I can hold a conversation with anyone of any gender so long as they’re interesting in some shape or form (or if I have to be polite), and I think I am relatively well-prepared for the horror that is Real Life. My biggest problem, however?

The world is not a girls’ school.

Next year the days of being able to strip in the middle of the classroom to change for sport will be gone. The ability to pour water over my head, unbutton my blouse and unzip my school skirt to deal with summer heat will have long-disappeared. The enjoyable game of ripping open our blouses to see if we can undo all the buttons in one fell swoop (and not burst any) will be generally frowned upon by the populace of Real Life.

Thus, I am screwed.

Love you like the sanctuary of school.

x

(P.S. not all of this is completely true/unexaggerated; I know a fair few boys who aren't all that smelly/gross. I'm not ACTUALLY a phallogynist. I do ACTUALLY know that isn't a real word. Okay. *CLARE OUT*)

A Happy Coincidence

Life is pretty good at the moment (minus piles of homework, study for trials, drama log booking up to my ears and approx. 45 essays that I have to write in the next month or two). The holidays are in full abundance around me, I didn’t get Bruv’s (or muv’s) whooping cough, these winter days have been absolutely gorgeous, and I’m listening to Clare Bowditch and her lovely voice.

Do you know what makes everything infinitesimally better? The fact that tonight at 9pm on SBS the Matildas are playing SWEDEN in the Women’s World Cup. OH MY GOSH what a happy coincidence, is it not? Don’t worry, I am patriotic enough to go for the Matildas, plus I find myself incredibly emotionally vested in their success, and they’re a really good team (better than the Socceroos, don’t shoot, but honestly, the quality of their football is a-a-a-amazing). So I hope that they get through to the semis and hence get further than the men’s team has ever gotten in their World Cup, hence bringing women’s football into the foreground in Australian sport because golly gee it never gets any coverage.

I just said golly gee. Did you like that? J

What else? Had a lovely night with Tersa and Loxie the other night, despite Lox not wearing appropriate footwear (“I thought I was going to be on a boat!”) and complaining the entire time as we practically carried her from Railway Square to a closed High Tea shop on Elizabeth Street, down to the markets in Chinatown, back up to Central, to the yummy cheap Japanese noodle bar near George Street cinema, then all the way to Darling Harbour for ice cream and the beautiful view and finally back to Railway Square to escape the rapidly gross-growing Friday night-life. The best part, however, was when we convinced Lox to buy very fobby slippers (black with pink bows at the back and massive pink sleepy-faces on the top), and she wore them all the way home with her Youth Parliament office attire.

Also infinitely fun? (Let me be Chloe again and write a list.)

       ¥            French-speaking day with Joanne and Shakira at the chocolate shop.

       ¥            Soccer team sleepover on Wednesday night complete with red cordial and a high school movie marathon through the ages – Grease, The Breakfast Club and Bring It On, which was cut off because of the Matildas vs. Norway game YAY FOR WINNING (last time we had a team sleepover we watched the Socceroos get smashed by Germany, so it was a nice change).

       ¥            Taking all my Russia notes to study at the park with a picnic blanket, some brain food (walnuts and bananas) and good studying music.

       ¥            Just chilling with Claudie.

       ¥            HARRY POTTER (complete with marathon) IN TWO DAYS! OH MY GOODNESS! Also, we get to see it before America, so sucked in ‘Sorcerer’s Stone’ people. Pfft. But don’t worry, I won’t give anything away before Friday ... maybe.

Did you see what I did there? Did you see what I did there with the infinity signs and the ‘infinitely fun’ thing? No matter how much I pretend I dislike maths, I will never get over maths jokes.

One last thought on a totally unrelated (and political YAY) topic.

Bob Katter has started his own political party, it’s called the Australian Party. I heard this (of course, while watching Q&A) a while ago and it got me on a long train of thought (not months long but I haven’t been able to post about it until now).  

See, ‘the Australian Party’ is not very imaginative. If I were Bob Katter, I would come up with something much much better.

The Mad Katter’s Tea Party, perhaps?

I am freaking hilarious, no?

How long did that take to come up with?

…An entire shampoo (lather, rinse, repeat) and conditioning?

Wait a second … you were thinking about Bob Katter in the shower? That’s a little weird/awkward/embarrassing.

Oh be quiet anonymous hopefully-existent internet-users. There is nothing going on between me and Bob Katter. Loxie and Bob Katter, on the other hand ... J Now I’ll just sit and wait for her to disagree, because she disagrees with everything just for the sake of it. If I’m lucky she’ll disagree with that too. Louise? I’m waiting for the argument.

Anyway. Right well love you to ¥ and beyond, just as much as my dad-jokes and my lack of whooping cough AND HARRY OH MY GOSH POTTER!

x

The Internet is a STUPID THING

It’s okay! Relax. I’m still alive guys – party at my house? So for those who actually care in the slightest about my well-being/state of aliveness (aka Claudia and Anna who called me up to make sure that I wasn’t, in fact, dead), this is what happened.

Half an hour after the last post, in which I announced that I would post again in half an hour so that you all would know that I was alive, the server crashed. Or something. I got a message which said:

Error 413 – The request made by your client was too large. That is all we know.

Then there was a little cartoon of a broken-down robot.

THANKS A LOT GOOGLE. THANKS A BLOODY LOT. All you know my foot.

I tried commenting on the last post, making a long and sincere apology and reassurance that I was still breathing. It didn’t work. I couldn’t even log in or access my account. If anyone knows what that’s about or how to fix it, I’d appreciate the knowledge. Even my dad (computer genius guy) didn’t know how to fix it (or couldn’t be bothered ... we were watching Toy Story 3 and eating Thai entrees and stir fry at the time).

So after that whole saga is finished, I have some news to tell you guys.

NEWS? Wow, you have no idea how excited we are about that, Claresy.

I know, I know. So I’ll give you a hint. It starts with ‘e’ and it rhymes with “winglish hextension moo”.

Oh my goodness what happened with your English Extension Poo?

Real mature guys. Real mature. I had a brush with death yesterday, you were there, you heard all about it. You ought to be more considerate.

We’re awfully sorry. We love you, Clarey B, to the stars and back. Please, tell us your exciting news.

Oh, I just HANDED MY EXTENSION TWO MAJOR WORK IN YESTERDAY HOMG. Please ignore the ‘homg’, I also stayed up until 3:30 finishing it so I’m quite ... well, hyperactively exhausted. Had a nice long nap in English Advanced though. I also filmed a few bits and pieces for this thing I’m doing to say farewell to our year at our Farewell Breakfast at the end of next term sometime. But it’s not that easy. Why are my girlies so camera shy? I’m all nice, you know, hey guys, want to say something for the video Alex and I are making for the end of the year, and they go ARGH – A CAMERA. Tsk.

Is it because you physically attack them with the video camera, forcing them to present a self-conscious version of themselves to be immortalised forever in the medium of video?

Shut up. They’ll thank me one day ...

Today there was also a grab-as-many-tubs-of-Ben-and-Jerry’s-ice-cream-as-you-can-for-a-gold-coin-donation thing going on at Railway Square, Cindy and Hannie went during lunch and returned with their arms full of ice cream. Unfortunately (ha) it had to be eaten straight away as today is the last day of the term and we can’t leave anything in the freezer over the holidays. So that was deliciousness on a spoon.

Finally, my mum bought me a book called The Big Trip and it’s all about gap years and backpacking around the world etc. It is actually the most exciting thing I have ever seen IN MY LIFE. I am going to travel with Louise (hopefully) at the end of next year, we’re going to see the sights, I’m going to SWEDEN – although it’ll be winter there so I’m thinking that I should postpone that adventure till the middle of the year – and yes I am so excited. If you want tell me where I should go! J I’m very very excited. Life is pretty good atm.

Happy holidays to everyone on holidays. Happy “holidays” to all year twelves on “holidays”, don’t do too much study, I’m sure not going to.

Love you like the feeling of having handed in my extension two major work and knowing I’m not going to be murdered and the first day of holidays and adventuring and free ice cream and other things. (That’s a lot.)

x

So sorry ... but ARGH

Oh my God oh my God oh my God I am so sorry I just found this and I can’t help but oh my God this is just ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

OKAY I'M STUDYING NOW.

x

Winter

The heater’s on in my room, hissing like a snake, little ticking noises, Can you hear me, tick tock, I’m right here. The windows are all fogged up and every now and then little breaths of fresh, cold air slip through and freeze my hands as I try to type.

I love weather, cosiness, when it rains outside and you can hear it as you lie in bed all warm and safe with the smell and the smoothness of clean linen around you. Wearing coats and scarves and Tess of the d’Urbervilles boots. But I hate winter. Even Sydney’s winter, which is practically non-existent in comparison to anywhere else in the world, barely getting below 10 degrees and always there is this blue unclouded sky that goes on forever and the weak but warming sunlight.

It’s the darkness, though, that settles at 5:30 and makes you wonder where the day went, all the blue unclouded sky, all the weak sun. It throws me off completely every time, leaving me in the artificial light of the study lamp and the manufactured warmth from the heater.

There’s still really three days until the start of winter. Then three months of not-actually-cold coldness.

This is why I could never become princess of Sweden, or just live there like a normal person. If wussy Australian winter (late autumn) affects me this much, the Northern Hemisphere would be surely ruinous.

Um so I’m retreating into my shell. See you in summer, after the HSC, after high school’s over, in the 40 degree days of bliss and swimming and sunscreen and schoolies with the best group everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I’m holding out for it.

Love y0u like our year twelve jerseys, and these beautiful girls:

x

Oops

I’ve been neglecting you. I know. I wrote this big sarcastic slightly amusing thingo for you but it stuffed up when I tried to publish it and I haven’t gotten around to doing anything since. Hence the ‘oops’. You still love me though, don’t you? Don’t you? Awkward silence .. :S

So what’s new? Today we WON SOCCER! ARGH it’s so exciting – it was 1-0 and Bronte scored and Lara almost scored and Lucy almost scored and it was just sort of brilliant. So now, although I am dying from the pain in my legs (this girl kicked me just where my shin pad wasn’t) (and also I ran a lot and am still unfit), I am incredibubbly. My nose is wrinkled and I’m smiling at you with a massive smile and it’s not very attractive. But I tell you what is?

Sweden’s entry into Eurovision. Kind of yummy, no? Now I’m just going to sit back, watch Sweden win and then see it get all POPULAR. ß Ahaha I’m so funny if you don’t get it then you should watch Eurovision tonight. Yes, that’s right, jump on the Sweden-loving bandwagon you fair-weather friends … but actually do, I need some company over here.

Um on Friday a bunch of things happened – we had a joint civi day/barbecue/soccer game with the boys’ school and raised $4866.05 for UNICEF. So congratulations Tara, you are really and truly and utterly amazing and we all love you bunches. You are going to win some sort of award, I swear. Anyway the theme for the civi day was floral, so I made myself a headdress sort of thing in the shape of a sunflower. Yeah, I received weird looks as people paid for their kebabs, but I think it’s my job to elicit said weird looks. Don’t you think hyperlink?

In the evening we went to watch Louise, Laurin, Una and Sarah debate the boys’ school with the topic ‘That Australia should legalise commercial surrogacy’. We were aff, which was definitely the harder side, and we lost L but we had pompom (singular, as I only had enough crepe paper for one)! Lou was the most hilarious third, opening with “What we’ve heard tonight in this debate is a bunch of boys who don’t know anything about women and probably never even paid attention in PD,” and then later went on to say, “They might have to have sex with their cousins, and that would be just … inconvenient.” Love you Loulou, even if you hate my calling you that.

Tiantian and I also had this dare thing going on that any time one of the debaters said the word 'exploit' we would swap our pants -- if you guys are from Britain, DON'T WORRY it's not that weird, see, in Australia we call trousers 'pants' and pants 'underwear'. Just in case you were incredibly incredibly confused and awkward about that. But it was sad because NO ONE SAID EXPLOIT. There was an 'exploited', an 'exploiting', even an 'exploitation', but apparently no one uses exploit anymore. Kinda good though in a way, our deputy principal was there and an English teacher and it was a really bright room and we were sort of right in the line of view of the boys' table. Although maybe if we had done it we would have distracted them enough to WIN. (Of course I don't condone that sort of exploitation - :P -  of the nature of teenage boys in order to win. Usually it's easy enough to win anyways, this was an exception.)

Other than that I’m not sure what to say. Hope you didn’t miss me too much lovelies. Oh, Doctor Who on Saturday was … mmmm the plot wasn’t the most exciting, I spent most of the time calling it stupid until the bit where they were in the parallel universe that had been in tandem with ours for a bit, that was quite nice. I wish there had been more bits about the feeling like someone was watching them, because as far as I remember it only happened once and it was a pretty big plot device and it would have been a much more exciting reveal had more importance been placed on it early on. What do you guys think? Do you watch Doctor Who? Do you exist or are you only the Silence?

Okay I should go now because I am so tired and need to read a lot. I need to read SO MUCH. I can’t wait until this year is over, seriously.

Love you pretty much as much as WINNING SOCCER!

x

My Brother is a QT

Okay so I have a younger brother, occasionally referred to as ‘bruv’ on this blog, known as Patrick, Patch, Patchy, Pat, Patty in real-life situations. Right now he’s in his terrible teens, he’s fourteen and the most annoying person you have ever met. EVER. I swear I wasn’t as awful as that when I was fourteen. Sometimes, however, you just have to remember the really, really cute times, and then use them to embarrass him.

So two such cute times that I find funny/cute.

1.       We had just seen the first Harry Potter film. It was around Christmas time in 2001 so I would have been *awkward mathematics moment* seven and Patch would have been four. So we come out of the theatre into the shopping centre and, because it’s Christmas, there’s a bit of a nativity scene thing going on. My brother looks at it for a little while and, with his shock of Weasley-eque red hair gleaming in the fluorescent lights, turns to my dad and asks, “Daddy, is that Harry Potter?”

Oh yes, all you people who billed Harry Potter as satanic and devil-

worshipping, my little brother mistook Baby Jesus for Harry Potter when he was four years old. IT WORKED.

2.       Remember primary school talent quests? I won one in year six with a bunch of girls from my class, we sang Joy to the World (Three Dog Night, not Christmas carol) with actions. My brother won one when he was in kindergarten. FOR BEING CUTE. -- There was this girl in his kinder class called Kaila. I like to think that they

were in love, even though he denies this profusely, even almost ten years after the event. (Still has a photo of them up on his notice board. I go in your room, Patch. I see these things.) Anyway, they were both tiny baby red-heads and the cutest things in the world. Patch and Kaila even spent a couple of afternoons at each other’s houses to practice for the Talent Quest. And on the big day they got up on stage, and Patch took out his kazoo, and Kaila sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and he did the accompaniment, and it was the cutest thing ever. 

               

Hope that made you smile! Anyways, it was better than Ben Tooth and the other year four boys stripping to It’s Getting Hot in Here. Ah Ben Tooth. Does anyone remember/know that guy? All the girls in year three thought he was shoooo attractive. A friend of mine caught the shirt he threw at the audience (while he was stripping to It’s Getting Hot in Here) and hugged it and I thought I was going to be sick.

What can I say? I was a very innocent eight-year-old AS ONE SHOULD BE. I saw a boy and suddenly was like EWW A BOY. BOYS' GERMS. I still do. I actually used to pretend I was physically allergic to boys so that they wouldn’t be my partner in lines to get into the Italian rooms in the morning. Typical Clare conversation in primary school:

                BOY:     Hey Clare. Can I be your partner for lines?

                ME:       Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I’m allergic to boys.

                BOY:     Oh sorry! I’ll stand over here then?

                ME:       That would be greatly appreciated.

Just putting it out there: no longer allergic to boys. Especially not Swedish ones. *Wink*

Love you like the good ol’ days of boys’ germs and Talent Quests and Baby Jesus.

X

The Big Day

Oh my goodness I am so excited about tomorrow. It’s the Big Day!

Really? What’s tomorrow?

… Um, the wedding?

Yeah? Whose wedding?

What do you mean, whose wedding? The Royal Wedding of course.

Wait which royals? Not Prince Carl Phillip and his stupid bikini model girlfriend? I swear I am going to kill myself if …

No! Kate and Will. Kate Middleton and Will … Prince Will. THE ROYAL WEDDING. OH MY GOD.

~

I need to think of a better way to express an interior dialogue, no? The enter button really isn’t fulfilling my needs at the moment.

Hey, I have a question. What is Prince Will’s last name? I mean … the last name of the royal family in general. I mean, they have to have SOME surname, surely? I’m sure it exists, but I don’t know what it is. Unless Will’s first name is Prince. GAR I have a headache.

I would look up these things but I don’t have the internet now. I’m on the 436 on my way home, avoiding finishing my extension creative. It’s due tomorrow, I have 1000 words to write and I’m going to the Indigo Girls concert tonight which is of course incredibly exciting. And during my double free tomorrow morning I have to go and buy stuff for our special assembly which is full of excitement and surprises, and because they are surprises I can’t exactly tell you what they are or else ruin said surprise. There’s not enough leg room on buses – not enough laptop room, and now my elbows are incredibly close to my body in order to type and not stick my various limbs into the person sitting next to me, sorry person sitting next to me.

So this doesn’t have a real point. I would just like to say how truly infuriated I am (or annoyed, yeah, I’m probably more annoyed than infuriated) concerning the cancellation of the Chaser’s coverage of the Royal Wedding. If you don’t know what the Chaser’s War on Everything is, you need to look it up on YouTube right now (unless you’re also on a bus and lacking earphones). It’s a really brilliant TV show, basically, that was cancelled after a bit of a controversial skit. But they were going to do a special on the Royal Wedding, a satire of it, basically, and they were told that the BBC would not release footage from the wedding to them by order of the royal family because they don’t want a satirical view on it. I mean, freedom of the press, much? I thought this was a democratic society. Oh well, if the Brits wanted to give us another reason to split and become a republic, there’s one. What can I say? We like our Chaser here.

Anyhoo. I’m only fifteen minutes from home now so I should have a quick nap (that’s a bit of a ritual for me, napping on public transport … I always happen to wake up just before my stop, I either just know the route so well that I wake automatically or there’s this speed bump beforehand that does it for me).

RIGHT SO BYE LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE INTERIOR DIALOGUES J

x

(p.s. I just got home and I'm posting this RIGHT NOW. And I'm eating pesto on crackers. That's right, be jealous. x)

Who is CRAAAAAZY now?

Well, I was watching this talk show/comedy/music thing on the ABC last night with Adam Hills, who is this very well-known Australian comedian and who has been nominated for a GOLD LOGIE as in the highest form of recognition on Australian television, and guess what?

He lived in Sweden for a year AND can speak Swedish.

Who is crazy now?

(I think I win.)



I got a Kindle, as in one of those book reading thingoes, from my dad who just came back from America. It's really cool, and there's French books on there - Voyage au Centre de la Terre by Jules Verne and Emma by Jane Austen (the French version). But I couldn't finish Emma in English so I'm not very optimistic as to how that one's going to go. SO YEAH if you have any ideas for good books to read that are out of copyright, please, tell me :)



I love you in the way that only real books can be loved.

x

We we we so excited :)

Your normal reading will resume on March 19, 2011, when I am no longer sixteen, with the first edition of

SYDNEY’S STUDENT SECRETS

Until then, enjoy.

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.