Saturday, February 7, 2009

conducting verse in a moment of silence

I'm hiding. There's been an invasion. I may not survive. There's a seriously scary number of highwaisted short shorts and giggling. Oh, the giggling. It's high pitched.

With The Faint pounding in my room in an (unsuccessful) attempt to drown out the sounds of my sister's birthday party, I get to thinking about birthday parties, age and the way things just ain't like they were five years ago, when I turned 15. And also about how truly awesome The Faint are.

Mostly everyone I went to school with is turning 21. There's been a few parties (one particularly memorable one where i ended up at the wrong party and had a lot more fun with people i didn't even know) and there's going to be a few more. Most of them are at seedy bars with seedy bar tabs and shit hip hop music, people who haven't seen each other for months, and are only there because of the wonders of Facebook (I'm still resisting and will continue to do so. stupid facebook) and then there's the speeches, which all follow a specific formula - "I have known so and so for (insert number) years. We have had our ups and downs, including the time we (insert hilarious drunken anecdote) and ended up in (mildura/memphis/jail). I can honestly say my life is richer for having (insert name) in it. Here's to many more years." There's drunken applause and cake that nobody eats. An obligatory tequila shot is downed by the birthday person, and usually by me. (Libby's 21st was the best. Beer, jumping castles and no speeches. Ace)

And then there's the themed parties. These are Fun. My friend Kat is having a childrens dress up themed party in a week or two. I'm going as a cowgirl, because that means I don't have to buy anything (yes, I own a plaid shirt, a denim skirt and boots that will pass as a chic cowgirls. I also own the coolest cowboy earrings based on Mr B-Flow of The Killers killer blue suit) The reason themed parties are good, apart from the dress up factor, is that they give you something to talk to people about; "Oh, you're a Jedi? How's that working out for you? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were actually a Sith Lord, fancy that! Do you get your robes at the same place as the Jedis? Oh, you do. Well. I'm getting more punch, you continue the empire building!"

(Although, I once went to an L-themed party for my friend Laura. Nearly everyone was a lapdancer, except for me as Librarian and some guy as Luke Skywalker. Which lead to the mose embarrassing drunken pash ever. Ergh. Han Solo's probably a better kisser. Invite him instead of Luke.)

But I don't really get the point of 21st blow out parties in Australia. we're allowed to do pretty much everything by the time we're 18. I mean, I guess I get the whole "YAY I made it to 21" thing, but it jsut seems kinda. I don't know. Not tacky, but. Well, I guess it's part of the whole Americanisation of Australia thing that I don't like - coca cola, bad spelling, emo music and 21st parties.

The other thing is that I recently had someone (mw) say to me "Yeah, and you'll be 21". Like this was either a bad thing, or some sort of crime. And I guess ageing is a sort of crime. You only have to look at Madonna's botoxed armpits to know that. I'm rather pleased that I'm getting older, because it means I'm getting further and further from my rather embarrassing teenage years. So I suppose I do have something to celebrate when I turn 21, if only to shove it in that particular person's face. Not that she's invited to my party, which will be a decadent evening at The Shakespeare in June, if you care to come along. Bring your own cucumber for the Pimms.


I've switched to Idlewild's really really early shouty punky stuff. I can still hear my sister squawking. I wasn't part of a gaggle of girls when I was 15. I was part of a sulk of sissies.

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