superkate: journal
supervic | superjen | supersar |
superkate
010401 » a hale of bay
listening to | mick hart \ still
the flowers bloom
feeling | very happy with my new hair colour :D
3.05pm
matt's
cowboys and cowgirls party was last night. there
were many, many flanno shirts on display. i find
it quite disturbing that so many people actually
own flannelette shirts still. maybe grunge still
is alive?
conversation with my mother when i was trying to
figure out what to wear to the party:
mum: kate, you could wear this
denim shirt with your long denim skirt.
me: nooooooo. its too big!
mum: just put it on!
me: but its daggy!
mum: its county! flannelette
shirts are daggy too.
me: i know, but i don't want to
look like a dag unless i look like a bogan.
looking like a bogan is ok.
mum: you have no idea what
country people wear do you?
me: yes i do! i lived in
singleton too you know! singleton people are
bogans!
mum: kate, your father still
lives in singleton.
me: yeah i know... but he is
kinda boganish. kinda. he wears little footy
shorts!
mum: just put the shirt on!
me: *puts on the denim shirt*
its too biiiiiiiiiig! i look like a dag! i want
to look like a bogan, not a dag!
mum: *gets all exasperated*
don't wear it then, i don't care! *tiredly* just
go away kate.
brodie brought 5 of her dad's 15 (yes, 15. that
isn't a typo. he comes from singleton too, you
see.) flannos to my place for us to choose from
before we left to go to the party. it took a
while for her to convince her father to trust her
with the 5 flannos. i chose a classy looking
brown and blue one. very boganish.
soon after we got to the party, the bush band
started. brodie and i clung to each other and
refused to partake in any bush dancing. bush
dancing is just plain embarassing. we were,
however, quite mortified as to how many of the
bush dances we knew.
so, we sat by the bonfire instead. after moving a
hay bale closer to the fire this conversation
took place:
brodie: i keep slipping off the
hale of bay.
me: *moves over* there you go,
you can move over now.
brodie: this hale of bay slopes
downwards on my side!
me: i know, this hale of bay is
weird. *ponders for a second* brodie that's not
the right word... it isn't hale of bay *cracks
up* we have been saying hale of bay!
brodie: what is it then?
*confused*
me: bale of hay! *laughs
uncontrollably*
brodie: *laughs uncontrollably*
everyone else: *looks at us
weirdly*
i think we were overtired. tiredness really does
equal drunkeness. it was at this point that
brodie and i then realised our similar talking
habits. like the one where we pause randomly in
the middle of sentences for no apparent reason. i
think it must be a singleton thing. just like
eating the meat out of a pie and then the pie
crust is a singleton thing.
a little later the bush band announced that the
next dance was the hokey pokey. brodie and i were
still clinging to each other, refusing to dance.
it is, however, hard to refuse to dance when
there are 4 guys pulling at you, two of whom are
6'7". so, brodie and i were forced into
doing the hokey pokey. basically it ended up as a
game of 'see how many people you can clobber when
you run into the middle of the circle.' funny
stuff.
afterwards, i admitted that doing the hokey pokey
took me back to my primary school days, when my
grandmother would play hokey pokey on the piano.
my sister and i, or even just me by myself, would
dance along to it. my friends all laughed
furiously and told me i shouldn't have admitted
such a thing. they couldn't understand how you
could run into the middle of a circle when there
are only 1 or 2 of you. i couldn't be bothered
explaining the complexities of 'lonely hokey
pokey' to them. i still don't see what is so sad
about doing the hokey pokey by yourself.
the next dance was the heel and toe polka. once
again, i refused to dance. refused until my
friend matt tickle tortured me. i later warned
everyone else against tickle torturing me. i
explained how i had kicked an ex boyfriend in the
nuts once during a particularly scream inducing,
leg thrashing tickle torture episode. he soon
learnt not to tickle me. my male friends looked
at me mortified, then backed away. they had all
taken heed of my advice and made a mental note to
never attempt to tickle me again.
another tired conversation:
brodie: hallaballamellamah
me: ballamalla hellahoo
brodie: hollamolla halla hum?
me: *nods* halla hum
matt: do you guys actually
inderstand each other when you talk like that?
me: of course we do!
matt: well, what did brodie just
say kate?
me: um... i'm not really sure.
but i know she would have been right, so i was
agreeing!
*everyone cracks up*
yes, i think all the country music had gone to
our brain. country music kills brain cells.
brodie and i proved that last night.
unfortunately, we didn't get a go at karaoke. we
decided to leave not long after the above
incident. we realised we must have been really
tired, so we left matt's sister and her friends
singing dodgy country songs. i don't know why
they chose to sing country songs. there was other
stuff on the karaoke machine too. i think all the
bush band music had also killed their brain cells
and made them stupid.
i
love my new hair colour! red red RED! it looks
awesome! really bright! i just hopes it stays
this way for a while and doesn't wash out too
quickly. i have reveived a number of compliments
on it already. yay. *acts all vixenish*
oh, and i urge you all to check out this website.
i think it is the most sacreligious thing i have
ever seen. so funny. http://www.divine-interventions.com/
previous | next
|
