Showing posts with label immaturity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label immaturity. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 June 2007

revelations to shake your head at



I have a bit of a strange sense of humour, or as my Mum would say "small things amuse small minds" (eye roll). Regardless, I am about to admit to two quirks of my deranged mind, because this weeks Sunday Scribblings prompts is all about eccentricities.

Words. Since the age of 10, a swag of words have kept me suitably amused; their sounds accentuated and drawn out; a generic image of the object kept in mind while doing so was enough to have me in fits. To indulge my mirth in my list of amusing words, I would attempt to incorporate these words into conversation so others might fall prey and inadvertently use them. Egg was one of those words. Somehow I managed to get my entire grade six class to repeat the word over and over one day as we ate our lunch. I think someone had a hard boiled egg for lunch and attempted to talk with it half stuck in their throat, which distorted their voice into a Muppet-like parody....that was what started it. No one could understand my amusement of the word, but enjoyed my laughing like a fool, which explains the collective repetition.

Frock was another such word. If you aren't familiar with this word, it is a kind of grandmotherly word for dress; to get "frocked up" is slang (at least in Australia) for saying one is about to get dressed into more formal attire in order to go out for an event (Ha). The word frock always inspired imagery of some dowdy old house dress. So if a friend were to tell me she "loooooved" my frock", I would know she was really just taking the piss. I thought it hilarious that my Gran's town had one women's clothing store in town; named "The Frock Shop", which was apt considering the crusty merchandise. I couldn't help a wry smile on my wedding day though, when my Grandmother complimented my "pretty frock"....as I said, small things....

Sandwiches was yet another such word that would send me into stitches. In the eighth grade we would have some class bonding time straight after lunch, in a short session called pastoral care. I forget what we did during those periods, but I do remember having to get into teams of four, naming our team and doing stuff. While the other groups gave themselves encouraging, intimidating names like ummmm "The Angry Army of Dudes" or "Princesses of Power" (I just made those up. Can you tell?) We were called The Sandwiches, The Cushions, The Hurdy Gurdies and The Sausages, simply for the amusement of forcing the rest of the class and the teacher to say our stupid word. Oh, the maturity. Is it just me, or do other people have a personal list of hilarious words too? Come on, fess up.

The other eccentricity of mine is something I like to call sound tracking. When sitting in the car with the music on, imagine the scene beyond the windscreen is the accompanying MTV video. If passersby happen to be plodding along in time with the music, well...even better. The more mismatched the scene to the music and song words, and the more unlikely the "actors" and "groovers" unwittingly thrust into my so called "music video", the more hilarious. Try it out next time you are stuck waiting at a pedestrian crossing, I can guarantee, you will at least question my sanity.

Tuesday, 27 February 2007

Fashion tips for blokes

Bloke is Aussie for man....just so you know.

Last week we took my friend and her new bloke out for dinner at a local restaurant. For whatever reason, my friend and her new man starting talking amongst themselves. I wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying, until my friend turns to me and asks, in a tone that was pleading for support and reason. Her Question? What was my opinion about men wearing white socks with black dress pants.

The couple were definitely at odds with the answer to this befuddling of questions and conflict makers, as there appears to be a camp of blokes who seem to have passed down to their sons, the belief that it is the done thing to match your socks and shirt....at least that was my husband's argument many years ago, when I was merely the girlfriend of my beloved.

So to answer my friend's burning man-socks etiquette question, I had only one thing to offer, and it was the same as I blurted to my beloved sixteen years ago:

"Th-Th-Th-Thriller!"

Oh man, I could hardly contain myself. I turned into a pool of unrestrained giggling stupidity...I do apologise, but please.....unless you are planning on drawing attention to your moonwalking feet - don't wear white socks with black dress pants.