Do I look like a messy pig?

To all you comedians: please don’t answer that question without reading on!

I like to think I look alright. I like to think that I maintain a high quality of personal hygiene and maintenance. Whilst I don’t always do my hair up all nice, I try to make sure it doesn’t look too bad before going anywhere. I wash my face morning and night, brush my teeth twice a day, and shower every morning. So why then, whenever I go to a fast-food place, am I given a shitload* of serviettes? I would really like to know!

It’s happened at least five times in the last month – whoever I’m with receives one or two, whilst I’m given enough to wipe the mouth of one or two elephants. I’m certain that whilst ordering: drool isn’t leaking out the corner of my mouth, my face isn’t stained with sauce or chocolate of some kind, and my teeth don’t have donuts stuck in between each one of them. Plus, I’m skinny! My friends find it particularly amusing [especially Adam], and so did I for a while, but now I’m starting to find it a little disconcerting. What is it about my face that screams, “Boy oh boy, you better give me a whole tree-worth of serviettes because if you don’t things will get real ugly”?

Having worked extensively with serviettes, I know that it is not difficult to just grab one or two and chuck them in a bag or on a tray, so I’ve ruled out the chance that it’s just happening accidentally. Unless the people who serve me have giant, sausage-like fingers incapable of retrieving fewer… Or it’s their way of giving me free stuff because they like me… Or they’re trying to insult me because they’re jealous of my superior fast-food customer service skills… Or because I’m more attractive… Yes, that must be it. :)

Finally, I’ve gotten to bottom of this mystery. Phew, that’s a relief. We couldn’t have me feeling insecure about my face/appearance now could we? Ah the trials and tribulations of being very, very good looking. :-P

Dale.

*Possibly the first swearword on my blog… Please don’t report me!

Talking Drugs at Uni

Lately in one of my Writing classes, we’ve been discussing and brainstorming our ideas for feature articles. I’ve been indecisive about mine, but have finally settled on large age gaps in young peoples’ relationships. Madison, who I quite like, is doing hers on the conflict that drug use has on parent-child relationships. One of her friends went through quite a traumatic time with it, and I think that if Madison comes at the issue from the right angle she could come up with an extremely revealing and helpful piece. The brainstorming of her feature article, in conjunction with someone else’s idea about the culture of clubs, led to an unexpected and highly entertaining discussion topic: drugs.

It started off with people asking random questions of each other about the addictiveness of certain drugs, what exactly certain drugs do, and so on. Our tutor, Stu, who is a very quiet and somewhat awkward person who specialises in poetry, sat back for the start of the conversation and watched it play out before chiming in with information of his own. He seemed to have quite a thorough knowledge, and I was a bit surprised. Well, a lot surprised. The conversation was mainly light-hearted, and included stories of the antics of drug-takers that people had known (never personal stories).

A story that I found particularly amusing was one told by Madison about a friend who took a “Mini-man”. Apparently, upon taking this drug, one feels as though they are significantly smaller than what they actually are. Like baby Chihuahua-sized. She told us that her friend was really freaking out, and shouting up at the people around them to watch where they were stepping. It was so extreme that when her friend was on the road he thought he saw a car coming, and that his tiny legs wouldn’t be able to get him across the street fast enough, so he got down and crouched behind a small stone about the size of a tennis ball, thinking that it would hide him. Why he’d want to hide I have no idea, but the image of someone crouching behind a stone and thinking that they were safe from sight really made me laugh.

But drugs are bad, not funny.

Dale.

Surreal moment of bonding

The teenage girls from Next Door play their music loudly at times. At first it was unbearable poppy stuff, then it evolved – if you can call it that – to pop/punk. Thankfully and surprisingly the girls now have similar tastes in rock music to me.

It was night, around 8 or 8.30, I had to pee; I went into the bathroom. Before I did anything Next Door’s music caught my ear. It was Three Days Grace’s “I hate everything about you”. I stood there listening. I could hear one of the girls singing. She wasn’t a great singer, or an awful one, but her voice was raw and emotional. She wasn’t just singing it for the sake of singing it. Her feelings echoed the words. I was moved. I wasn’t feeling angry towards anyone in particular, but after a little I joined in, singing just under my breath. At first I almost felt like I was invading a personal moment, but eventually I felt like I was sharing one with her – despite it being unbeknownst to her.

We don’t spend much time with Next Door, or have all that much to do with them besides being polite, but I felt particularly close to Siobhan or Nicole that night. Just standing motionless in the bathroom; having a surreal moment of one-sided bonding.

Dale.

People laughed!

We had to come up with a review of something in 10-15 minutes in my first tute this morning. I did a modified version of actual events that happened yesterday. I was pretty happy with it as people actually found it funny. I had a rolling laugh that lasted for about 3 seconds or so at the end. And random laughing interspersed throughout. :)

Anyway, here it is:

Going on one of our customary random drives the other day, my friend spotted a sign and excitedly instructed me to turn in and park before a place called "Cold Rock". I'd never been there before but had heard at some stage that it was an ice-cream related shop and not just a place where one could purchase refridgerated stones. I had a hankering for ice-cream, which was not unusual, so I followed him inside and became enlightened.

Cold Rock is no normal ice-creamery. No, it's an extraordinary house of delights. After selecting your flavour of ice-cream, and the size of tub you desire, you then can choose from a vast number of "mix-ins", which are mashed into the ice-cream. The potential flavour combinations are limitless - from Mars Bars to Fruit Tingles, Kit-kats to Boost bars, Nerds to Gummy Bears, there is something for the most choosey of all ice-cream consumers. I selected the taste sensation of white chocolate ice-cream with Mars Bar. It rocked. No actually, it Cold Rocked. It was well worth the $5 I paid. I will definitely be returning to the unique and devillishly delicious parlour of pleasure that is, Cold Rock.

I might just be a really good humourous reader, or it might have just stood out compared to everyone elses serious reviews, but it gave me confidence when the people were laughing WITH me (to all those who would suggest otherwise you smell :P) but yeah. Happy.

Dale.

Why did it feel weird?

It was some time ago now (possibly a month) but I still remember it. Possibly because I wrote it down to remind myself, but nevertheless, I still remember!

It was one-ish in the morning and I'd just finished a close shift at maccas, and a girl at least three years younger than me who I was working with - I can't remember her name now... It may have been something starting with C or N, or it may have been something completely different - needed a lift home. She was waiting for the manager to finish but she was clearly going to be a while still so I offered to take her, knowing that I wouldn't want to have to wait around at that place if I could avoid it. She accepted and said she only lived five minutes down the road. Easy.

I walk out to the car, got in, unlocked her door, and then the feeling hit me. It was really weird. All of a sudden I started to feel uncomfortable, and I'm not sure but I think she did too. Realising that she didn't really know me that well, and could have doubts as to whether I could be trusted - crazy thoughts I know - was very unsettling. I started the car and turned on the radio to try and break the unpleasant ice. We drove for about thirty seconds before the windscreen fogged up completely and I had to pull over to the side of the road. I couldn't see at all. I went through the routine to get it de-fogged (putting window down, air conditioning on the windscreen) and sat there kinda embarrassed. Embarrassed was a better feeling that uncomfortable though, and I managed to make a joke, of sorts: "Maybe next time we should just not breathe." Although now I realise that could have come across kind of creepy - I'm going to kill you, let's make a suicide pact etc. etc. - but she thankfully didn't interpret it that way and laughed. The ice was slowly melting away as the windscreen gradually de-fogged.

I pulled onto the road again and drove her home, trying to drive well and safely to dispell any other uncertainties that she may have had, where she got out and thanked me. The feeling still lingered to some extent, be it a lesser one, the entire time though, and it really struck me as strange.

Anywho, that's that. Make of it what you will. Help me understand if you can!

Me.

Long and... Sour?

Okay, so my last blog wasn't so much a blog as a quick comment, so I've decided to do one dedicated simply to my assignments for uni this semester - both completed and upcoming. Woah, that caused quite a hub-bub. I know my assignments are an immensely interesting blog topic, but geez guys, take it down a notch!

I'm doing three units this semester and each have two assignments. Shockingly, that's a total of six assignments. Three have bee completed and handed in (pretty much on time) and I've received two back. I like the marking system they have at uni; 80% and above earns you a high distinction or HD, as we trendy uni-types call it. 60-69% is a credit, and 70-79% is a distinction (I won't mention the lower grades for fear of jinxing myself).

Anyway, that's all common knowledge for most of my friends so I'll get to the point. My Literary Studies assignment which required a creative piece plus critical appendix (based on the continuation of a set text) came back with a 79% - 1% off a HD! But I was really rapt with that. You can see the creative piece on here if you haven't already and doing so tickles your fancy (see Lucy's Plight link in previous blog). My Writing for Professional Practice assignment, which was based on the social revolution being caused by the mobile phone and the ways in which it is changing communication and language, I just got back from tutor Stu today. I was gob-smacked when he put it down in front of me. Then I smiled a smile larger than I thought possible. I didn't have high expectations so when I saw "HD" (80%) and "excellent essay" I was pleasantly surprised! The third assignment, for Reading, Writing and Language, was my fiction piece titled "Loss" that I published not too long ago and can be found on here also. I expect to get it back next week - legs crossed my good streak continues!

Just briefly, because I've rattled on for long enough now, the assignments that lie ahead are:

• A critical essay (1500 words) in response to a text studied this semester for Literary Studies. Due May 14.
• A folio (500 word report, 250 word media release, 250 word news story) about a fictional township conflict scenario for Writing for Prof. Practice. Due May 25.
• A creative non-fiction piece/feature article (1500 words) with an emphasis on conflict within an interpersonal relationship for Reading, Writing and Language. Due June 1.

So yeah! I'll be a busy little boy.

Dale.

Short & Sweet

Mum told me she read my "Toothpaste" blog and couldn't stop laughing.

I thought that was really cool.

Me.

P.S. Got 79% for my 'Lucy's Plight' assignment thing. My creative story was described as "compelling" but I fell down in my critical analysis. But 79% = distinction so I'm happy happy happy! :)

May 3 – The rest of it [introducing the Nokia E65]

The remainder of May 3 was pretty low key. I got out of bed at eleven-ish, and went through the motions of waking up. My bedroom was not looking so neat. It was as though the clothes, wrapping paper and shoes had been having wild clothes/wrapping paper/shoe sex over the past four hours. I considered tidying but realised it was my birthday, and one doesn’t tidy on one’s birthday, so with careful foot placement I made my way out of my room. There were two balloons tied festively to a chair at the breakfast table, which I appreciated, but the chair wasn’t where I wanted it so I switched it around with another so I could see the TV (Will & Grace was on – couldn’t ask for a much better start to the day). Did other boring stuff before checking out my myspace and feeling grateful for all the birthday wishes, then I blogged the blog before this one [thanks people for all the birthday wishes there too :)] and then mum got home from work and it was time to go get my main birthday present – a new phone!

Made our way to the 3 shop in Glen Waverley, answered a lot of questions (including “how long have you lived at your current residence?” to which I answered in a moment of realisation “Twenty” whilst thinking Man, I am old...), signed a bunch of forms (may or may not have my soul anymore, not too sure), and was presented with a brand-spanking, new-fangled, super-awesome Nokia E65. Two words: it slides. That pretty much explains the rationale behind why I got it. Haha, no I’m not serious (much), it has heaps of other cool features too. Plus it’s better than my brother’s phone. :)

Ventured home phone in lap, assembled and plugged the charger into the wall at first available opportunity despite being ravenously hungry for lunch. After quickly reading over the manuals and 3 brochures, and sliding the phone up and down repeatedly mum and I ate lunch including a delicious vanilla slice – confirming my theory that food tastes better when you have a superior piece of technology in your possession.

Paul came around at 3:40, right on time. Although to be honest the fact that he was coming had slipped my mind – such was the excitement over new phone (sorry Paul). Anyway, enjoyed and appreciated his company immensely. It’s always good to see you best friend, but even better when they skip a university class to do so on your birthday! He bestowed upon me gifts three. All will be put to good use eventually... somehow. Paul left.

Dinner arrangements were up to me. I had no clue what I wanted to eat, but felt that because I was now twenteen I should be mature and go out somewhere rather than just settling for a fast food substitute. Ended up at Sofia’s in East Burwood. I had a bourbon and coke and a disgusting glass of wine over dinner and felt very grown up, especially watching Mark with his Pepsi. Ordered spaghetti carbonara – mistake. I had never seen such a gargantuan pile/mountain of pasta in my life, and I ordered the small size! I reckon I ate about a sixth of it. It was kind of embarrassing when the waiter person asked if everyone was finished while looking straight at me and seeing the condescending look in their eyes when I said yes – as if he was secretly saying “So you think you could devour an entire serving of one of our ridiculously sized meals? Well we sure showed you,” whilst proceeding to scoff, tip his head back and laugh maniacally (all in a French way).

Made it home, was sung happy birthday to before a white chocolate cake with a 2 in the middle and ten candles around the outside. It was touching, and I realised it more this time than others for some reason. I wished for my family to live happily and healthily for many, many, many years to come.

Eventually bade everyone good night (including my phone) and went to bed to dream contented birthday dreams.

May 3 – From midnight to 7am

I wasn’t supposed to be working last night (Wednesday May 2) but unless I did I would have had to work tonight – on my birthday – and there was no way in hell that was gonna happen! Anyway, I worked a “close” shift at Maccas from 9pm-1am last night/this morning. It was… both good and bad. Word had got around that my birthday was tomorrow (starting at midnight) and for the whole night the other crew were offering to bring me drinks or cook me food while I was out the back doing wash-up. It was really nice of them all: Tanya, Jess, Lucas and even the Nazi-like manager lady known as Simone.

At midnight (pretty much on the dot) they came out the back to where I was hastily washing stuff. They presented me with a donut from McCafe. It was a very “sweet” gesture. I really appreciated it. At the end of the shift Nazi-Simone gave me two apple pies to take home which was also kinda nice. During the shift I also:

• Burnt all of the finger-tips on my right hand removing chicken patties from the deep-frier thingo. The pain was quite excruciating, and I still have the burn marks to show for it if you want proof!
• Got some kind of disgusting rubbish sludge all down the right side of my body when I was throwing the black plastic garbage bags in the dumpster just before it was time to go home.
• Somehow managed to bang my shin into a wall leaving a nasty bruise.

So I was slipping ice blocks down into my right hand glove, trying in vain to get the right side of my body clean, and limping slightly, but I didn’t care because it was my birthday!

After getting changed and dropping Lucas at a friends house where he said he would “get drunk in my honour”, I made it home and proceeded to wash myself further. After the said self-cleaning, I got my first and so far favourite birthday phone call (from Nathan). Then I hopped into bed at 2.30ish, knowing that I would be woken in a mere four hours…

Three knocks at my door disrupt the silence of my room, and as it slowly opens the light scares away some of the darkness. I hear a chorus of “Happy Birthday Dale!” – it’s Dad followed by Mum followed by Mark. I slowly rise out of my slumber and smile. Turning on my light I’m patted on the shoulder/hugged/punched playfully. Gifts and cards are thrust upon me by my loving family. I open the cards which were hilarious this year – Mark always makes me laugh with the messages he writes in his. This year it was: “Daley boy, Have a happy, happy day. From your superior, Mark.” It was damn funny. :)

I open cards from Grandparents and other extended family members and mum stands all the cards up on my desk. 6:55 comes – Dad has to go to work and Mark to school athletics. They wish me a great day once more and leave my room. Mum, still in her dressing gown, does the same shortly after, leaving me sitting up in bed appreciating how awesome that all was and how much I love my family. About ten seconds later I’m asleep again.

Dale

Things to blog about:

Dale - the family inconveniencer
Driving girl home from work late at night
The great competition that is Supercoach
My assignments (creativity and criticism)
Blogging (and annoyingly forgetting interesting topics to blog about)
My upcoming birthday celebration of sorts
Phone disappointment
Discussing drugs in a tute at uni (Mini-man)
Surreal moment of bonding
May 3 - Midnight to 7am