First the freaks. Or more specifically - freak (singular). For once, I am not discussing myself. I am actually referring to the young gentleman I met in an Amsterdam hostel recently - this particular gentleman looked like Renton-from-Trainspotting but in a child's body. That's the best description I can come up with. Very small and svelte and, admittedly, good looking but a man-child nonetheless. Sort of like Parminder Nagra from Bend It Like Beckham and TV's ER. She's how old.. about 30? Looks about 13. It's disconcerting to say the least. Anyway, now I have (semi) successfully waffled an over complicated mental picture for you let me tell you about freak boy and how he thinks you should make friends. His plan consisted of sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME (I am not a touchy feely person), lighting up a hugemongous joint and then writhing around in apparent ecstasy at my feet. Sadly, this did not fly too well with the two middle class girls from England that he'd chosen to perform this routine for. They were left with no choice but to openly laugh at him. I felt bad because he's going to be left with the impression that all British girls are uptight and snooty and mean but... I just don't know how to deal with someone sat moaning and staring at me as an ice breaker. I repeat.. AN ICE BREAKER. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? That is not the behaviour of someone who wants to make some new gal pals. That's the behaviour of a fruit loop. He may as well come with a 'Danger Will Robinson' label embossed on his forehead.
Geeks of course are never an enemy to the Sazz. Except for maybe when you're in a hostel, reet late at night, and not necesarilly all 'with it' and one of these Geek creatures spends 10 valient minutes trying to draw you into conversation and then starts going off on a tangent based around how the town you've said you come from is actually the shittiest part of Vancover and it's where all the crackwhores hang out. What do I say to that? I settled on a bored-sounding 'oh. thats interesting'. And went to switch off the damn light. Damn kids.
God. I'm such a bitch. No wonder everyone who isn't British hates the Britsh. People like me are going out into the world and being as unfriendly as one person can be. Do I feel guilty? No. Would I change? No. But at least I'm aware of it. I just can't handle small talk, that's the main problem. A slight variation of the standard 'getting to know you' questions (who are you? where are you from? why are you here? what stuff do you like? do you think there's a chance you'll sleep with me? not neccassarily in that order and perhaps with a few filler questions thrown in between them) from every person you ever meet. It just leaves me a little tired and bored and considering sucide. So how do I make friends? Well anyone that laughs at my stupid jokes within five minutes of me meeting them or, converesly, someone who makes me laugh in the same time frame. But mostly the me making them laugh thing. That's a short time frame to work with if you are looking to be my friend I know, but after five minutes I'm more than likely going to get distracted by something shiny so the rules are in place for a good reason.
Anyway... girl secrets. This also relates to my holiday. Well, the train journey home from my holiday. At one of the stations we stopped for a few minutes while they seperated the front and back carriages. This allowed enough time for two ubertrendy Topshop dummy wannabees (you know the ones that wear the exact same outfits you see in the store window down to the stupid gold ballet pumps, seventeen different necklaces, a ridiculous amount of layering in the tee shirt department, and are just as skinny? Yes them. 'The Enemy'). Well actually they weren't too bad, just the exact same looking and acting creatures as everyone else from their age group who listens to Panic! At the Disco.. so anyways, they get on the train acting all nonchalent and cool and settle into the seats right behind mine. Literally just as they sit down they notice a boy on the platform and start squealing in a pitch only dogs can hear (I'm a bitch so I could just about make it out). They have this odd conversation that goes 'Oh my god! What do I do?!?!' 'Oh my god! What should you do?!?!!?!??' for about thirty seconds (the longest thirty seconds of my life) and eventually run to the carriage doors where they call Mr Object-des-Crush over and suddenly return to the supercool extreme sideparting queens of ballet shoes that they were earlier. Just a little more breathless (hyperventilation has that effect on people). As the train moved away they got 'Tom' to agree to a meeting later in Arundal to 'feed the ducks' (Is that a euphamism I wondered? Those crazy kids and their slang!). As we rolled properly away from the station they actually started jumping up and down and hugging like one of them had just won a beauty pagent. I wanted so badly to hate them (well, continue hating them) but now I felt empathy with them. I've done that. I might even have done that in public WHERE OTHER PEOPLE COULD SEE ME and more importantly JUDGE ME. This is what it is to be a girl. We are crazy but somehow manage to keep the (majority) of the crazy hidden. This girl was so excited I thought she might pass out just because the boy she likes said he'd go and feed the ducks with her (I'm going to assume its not a euphamism, Arundal does have a famous duck pond I believe). That boy will probably never know JUST how happy this made her, even if they do end up going out he will never know he made a carriage full of strangers wrinkle their noses and look slightly distastefully at this girl who was shrieking just a little bit too loudly for comfort. If he did know that then I doubt she would stand even a smidgeon of a chance with him. And it sort of reminded me about the other day when I requested my stepdad slow down when we got to The General's old house so I could see if there were any clearer signs of the PCG (Potentially Cute Guy) that I'd seen hanging around there the other day. And he laughed. Until he realised I was serious
'You really are a stalker'
'No. I'm a girl. This is what females are like'
And its true. So beware. You may think all woman are mental but you really really don't even know the half of it.
While I'm being all open and honest here... I'm addicted to the Biography channel. It started with David Cassidy a few weeks ago (Hot DANG! he was so pretty) and today I find myself watching AN HOUR on Ben Stiller. I mean, I like Ben Stiller. He's nice. His films are lightly funny fluff, but really. An hour learning about Ben Stiller's life? Thats... Its just... It's not right. Although I did find out his mum was the English teacher in Fame (the film not the TV show.. yes it's darker and grittier but it's got the same Leeroy in it) for some reason that really made my day.
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