SHAMPOO IS BETTER!

Last week, I went for a run. Because I’m fit. As I was jogging through Hyde Park, I noticed a man sprawled on a bench, seemingly unconscious.

“Junkie,” I thought, and continued running. However, as I got closer, I noticed he was reasonably well-dressed and clean-shaven. His head was thrown back and his mouth hung open. Like a corpse. As I jogged past, he did not move at all. When I got to the end of the park, I turned around to look once more. The man still hadn’t moved. I hovered for a few seconds, then a possum ran in front of me and I chased him because I love the possums in Hyde Park. They make me feel like a bush ranger. I ran home, then ate a can of corn and played Diddy Kong Racing. After all,  I am a grown up.

The next day, the man was gone. I wondered whether he’d simply woken up, or been gently pushed into Sydney harbour by the city council. Had I run past a dead body and not noticed/cared? It was entirely possible. I live in Darlinghurst. I pass smacked-out junkies more often than I buy toilet paper. I have frequently seen homeless people brawling, interrupted doorway poops, witnessed various acts of vandalism, and been a spectator to more than a few domestic disputes. On top of this, I get asked for money every time I leave my house. But enough about the Red Cross, because the junkies are pretty annoying too.

Sometimes, I’ll see a couple fighting, and the dude will push or hit his lady around a little. I’ll think, “How could he!” but my default reaction in these situations is to always look the other way. Sure, I’m a post-feminist/alkaline or whatever (I was born under the sign of Taurus), but I’m not prepared to get glassed in the face to save one of my sisters.

Am I a bad person?

Don’t answer that.

I’ve been on the other side of the spectrum too. I was once attacked while waiting for the bus, because I looked at a person. Nobody seemed to mind much. And I once tried to fight someone on York Street, which attracted a few stares, but not so much as a comment from passers-by.

Have we become desensitised? Or are we just tougher?

I don’t know, I’m from the Hills. We used to kill bees when we were bored.

This post is for Aleisha McCormack. She asked me to write about my hobbies, because I am a glamourous blogger who works in advertising and lives in the big city. It took a lot of reflection over quite a few weeks, but I’ve finally put together a comprehensive list:

• peeling other people’s sunburnt skin
• drinking
• licking the salt off rice crackers
• putting things in the bin
• reading books about shipwrecks
• loling
• getting up during the night to make sure the stove is turned off

I think that’s all. Sometimes I also write limericks using rude words. I guess I’m just a fun/crazy gal!

Ryan: Women always cry. It’s the only way they know how to deal with pressure.
Me: That’s not true. I binge drink.
Ryan: That’s bloggable.

Ryan: I really don’t understand why marijuana isn’t legal. Have you ever heard a stoner go, “Man, I’m so baked, let’s go out for a cheeky rape”? Or, “I know, let’s go bash someone to death”? No. They just eat pizza and watch Tim and Eric.

Ryan: Why are you dressed in Matt’s clothes?
Me: Because I wanted to feel closer to him.
Ryan: Are you wearing his retainer?

Me: I find the guy on the drink-driving ad really attractive.
Ryan: Of course you do. That’s your weakness. You accept any flaw in someone if they’re beautiful.
Me: No, I don’t.
Ryan: It’s fine, everybody does it. If Natalie Portman asked me to marry her, and she said, “By the way, I’m a meth addict and I have AIDS, is that cool?” I’d be like, “Totally okay. Let’s do this.”
Me: Really?
Ryan: Of course. If she said, “I also poo out my mouth and I never brush my teeth,” I’d be like, “That’s fine, babe. We’ll work it out.”