“I spy with my little eye a great story.”
– Paper Towns, John Green
“Mum, what’s this on the 4D Slide Screen?”
“I don’t know, Squegtrill. It is probably picking up residual nova frequencies again.”
“Kwelgrup’s did this too. They had to get a new one, a 5D V.2 Switchback. They’re so new, all the celebrities have them. And not too expensive either.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Squegtrill. We aren’t getting a new screen until Sandy is 400. Sandy’s still got 54 Slarks to go.”
“Yeah, I know. Hey, what’s this say? ‘Pretty Little Liars?’”
“I don’t know. Try scrolling through.”
“This one says ‘Orange is the New Black.’ Looks like Uncle Grigflep’s house. But with aliens.”
“Where’s all the usual programming gone?”
“I dunno. Hey, this one’s called ‘Phineas and Ferb.’ The pictures are all… wibbly wobbly.”
“Try turning it off and on again.”
“Okay. Wait, this isn’t the usual start up menu! What’s it say? ‘Netflix?’”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s broken.”
“You know, Kwelgrup’s Slide Screen broke too, and they just bought a 5D V.2 Switchback…”
I made a mistake today. My funniest one yet.
Apparently, dishwashers require different detergent to the detergent one would usually use to hand wash dishes. This was not clear to me when I squirted copious amounts of dishwashing detergent into the dishwasher today.
I turned around when someone said, “I think you put too much detergent in.”
White, fluffy bubbles were streaming out of the dishwasher through the crack at the bottom of the door. They were everywhere.
It was highly amusing. I’ll never be allowed to forget it.
It’ll be a good story to tell the grandkids someday, I’m sure.
I used to be a bit of a twit. Still am, to a degree, the days that lack an embarrassing moment being few and far between, and my uncoordination planting a smile on the face of many a bored PE student. I digress.
Back in Year 7 when I was (as I ashamedly admit) a twelvie, a hipster, and firmly solid in my belief that I was, somehow, cool, I did plenty of weird things that made me look unique. By which I mean, they made me look uncoordinated and awkwardly confused with a facade of unwavering confidence that I never quite believed in.
These weird things included (but certainly did not peak at) the Shoelace Experiment.
You will have seen my red Converse in my header – my favourite shoes then, and terrible for my low arches now. As glamorous as they are, however, they are somewhat dated and the laces have become very stretched, resulting in their frequently becoming untied.
Which is why, in Year 7, at any particular moment throughout the day in which you happened upon little me, you would find me with at least one shoelace undone and trailing behind me, more often than not filthy and damp.
“I’m doing an experiment,” I would advise concerned observers, “to see whether or not I will actually trip on them. I haven’t so far, and I don’t plan to.”
This annoyed plenty of people, divisible into two groups: the first, those who worriedly told me, “Your shoelace is untied,” to which I would reply “I know,” undoubtedly irritating absolutely everyone; the second, the people who knew that I looked and was acting like an absolute twit and couldn’t really do anything to fix it.
I grew out of it eventually. My shoelaces are always done up nowadays; as it happens, loose shoes and filthy shoelaces are gross, for want of a better word. Oh, and my hypothesis was proven: I never did trip on my laces.
So, I was hanging at home yesterday with my parents and my little sister (whom I will call Boo) and she, as 9-year-olds tend to, announced that she was bored. When I asked what she wanted to do, she suggested a board game. Great, I thought, not too strenuous. I had been lounging on the couch watching TV, so a board game was exactly the kind of laziness that I was enjoying. Pretty happy with what was happening, I turned off the TV and went and sat up at the dinner table and waited for her to come back with a game.
And then she showed up carrying Monopoly.
For a game that almost everyone owns, Monopoly is notorious for destroying people. Think Gollum and the ring, destroying people. In my family, only Boo and I really play it at all. My older sister Beanz is too traumatised to play anymore (my fault, to be honest. We’re cool about it now.)
My parents refuse to play on pure principle. I think dad played with us when we were little and less vicious, but they’ve recognised the evil that is Monopoly and wisely stay away. With my mum, dad and Beanz out of the Monopoly picture, Boo and I are the only ones game to battle it out.
So far, our game is going well. (I say that because even though Boo has heaps more money, I have Park Lane and a house on Mayfair. Point made.) No one has started crying yet, no one has stormed out and there haven’t been cruel songs (me) or water fights (her).
Those are fun stories, actually. More later.