don’t make me wreck shit hectic

 Since when is it so hard to ride a bike up a hill?  Since I got a bike, apparently.  I like my bike, but I hate my suburb.  Too much hillage.  But the weirdest thing is that either my perception of inclines is out of whack, or there are some hills that are harder to ride up than their steeper counterparts.  I can ride up some steep drive-ways no problem, but my street – which I always thought was more or less level – makes my thighs burn so bad.  I often give up at the end, wheel it to the corner, and then hop on to ride up a hill that looks way steeper but is somehow much easier.    This morning I was scraping myself out of bed when I looked out the window at a couple of proper cyclists in their fancy lycra and shaved legs.  I ducked down behind the window sill to spy on them and saw that they had to drop down a gear and their terrifyingly well-developed thighs were straining to maintain speed.   They looked over right as I jumped up pointing and yelling "Aha!  It’s not just me!" which was unfortunate because I was kind of not wearing clothes.    Even experienced cyclists are not very good at staying on their bike while vomiting.

Speaking of vomiting, another early round of offers go by without confirmation of whether I can go to uni next year.  They’re making me wait for main rounds in late January, I can tell. A nigger like me is going insane.  I need to get out of this terrible job of taking shit for other people’s fuck-ups.  I swear it’s only getting worse.  How does this company do business while fucking off its most valuable account for several months at a time?   At least I get to go on leave on Wednesday for 3 weeks.  I have too much annual leave saved up because I never go on amazing overseas trips like normal people so they told me I had to take at least 10 business days.   I checked the legislation and I was actually 30 hours shy of the point at which they’re legally allowed to do that but I didn’t want to explain to them that the reason I was hoarding leave was to get a nice pay-out when I quit in February, so I just complied.  I was meant to get a part-time job to earn money over the break, but I didn’t try hard enough.  I really wanted a job at a book store near me but the guy who served me there overheard me expressing a negative opinion about white people with tribal tattoos and then I noticed that he happens to fit that description so I decided not to apply.  That’ll learn me for being racist.

If I don’t get in, I’m taking my savings and going to New York.  Fuck Japan or India.  Everyone keeps going to New York and saying "OMG THIS IS LAIK THE BESTEST PLACE ON EARTH I DONT WANT TO LEAVE AND JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YOU HAVE TO TRY THESE BAGELS".   Even my sister went there for a week with some drama class thing (she goes to a performing arts high school) and she texted my mum while on the bus from JFK airport to the city to say that she was already "in love with New York".   She’s been to Europe too, so it’s not like it’s me being all "HURR DURR I AM IN ANOTHER COUNTRY GEE WOWZERS".    She has Paris to compare it to.  

I am the only person in my family to not go overseas.  Sorry to sound like a spoilt brat, but what utter bullshit..  4 siblings, and they’ve all had someone (cough cough parentals cough) pay for them to go to the UK, a tour of Europe, Fiji, Bali, Singapore, Las Vegas…   the furthest I’ve ever travelled is Cannes.  No, wait, the other one.   I meant Cairns.  North Queensland.  Rained every fucking day.    Where’s my silver spoon and fabulous prizes?   This is how I know that psychics are bullshit.  When I was young a psychic told my mum I would grow up to have a career that would send me all around the world.  Another psychic told her I would marry a business man.  Maybe this is the missing link.  …. No, it would take an epic case of Stockholm syndrome for me to marry a corporate, let alone anyone.  I’m trying to get away from these nutless white collar wankers, not become their crotch nanny.  

 I’m not serious about any of that anyway. My siblings are all right. I hope they get to travel lots, maybe make up for their fucked family life. 

  One time I got $2700 in my tax return and I was like "wow, maybe I’ll buy some clothes that don’t have holes in them or eat food that’s made from vegetables or move into an apartment that isn’t next door to Centrelink". I spent it all on drugs within 3 weeks.   Hey, it was kind of like going on a trip.  Hehehehehe… 

My memory is still really bad right now so if I’ve already said these things 50 times before, don’t say so.  I’m also puffy as, my voice sounds like I’m a drag queen and despite exercising 3 times a day I’m putting on weight like crazy.  I thought I must have put my washing on hot water or something because seemingly overnight my pants went from comfortable to "Aw hell no!  Shit, woman, you are fat as fuck – you need to put me down and go find yourself a maxidress or something. Damn, girl!"   Most of my clothes are black, see, so they tend to talk like Chris Rock.  If I don’t go to university maybe I should use my savings to buy a shitload of speed, which will both reset my brain to ultra-focussed steel trap mode and help me trim down… although somehow I think the talking clothes hallucination will just get worse then.