This was illustrated by the talented and sometimes awkward Mitch Hawkins

Me: And my UAI is…wow.

Mum: What is it?

Me: Almost ninety-five.

Mum: Well that can’t be right!

Dad: Maybe you should give the Board of Studies a call?

Pop’s girlfriend: So, Annik, no boyfriend?

Me: Nah, no boyfriend.

PGF: Didn’t you have one last year?

Me: He turned out to be a lying fuck.

PGF: Oh.. my…

Me: Yeah.

PGF: Well, I’m sure you’ll find one this year anyway.

Me: Thanks.

PGF: Tick-tock!

Me: I’m just gonna go now.

The following post comes courtesy of the sometimes inappropriately funny and always rather good-looking @liceri. I didn’t have to edit this at all, which is awesome, because I’m lazy.

Enjoy.

Annik

Canadian people are insane

My parents are Canadian and mental. From this, I assume that all Canadians are insane. I’m Canadian too but I’ve lived in Australia since I was 3 so it doesn’t really count. As they age, they become less and less guarded about the things they say in front of me (as far as they’re concerned, I’m too old to be emotionally affected by them), and think less and less before they speak because they think I don’t listen anymore. To outsiders, my mum is quiet, reserved, dignified and conservative. She doesn’t swear. She’s never lewd or crude. She’s lovely and cuddly and a pure delight; a true lady. However, in private (and after fair amounts of alcohol), she’s often the opposite.

As for my dad, well, he’s quiet – but he’s measured and thinks before he speaks.

Together, they’re unstoppable.

She’s a mathematical genius

Me: [sings something about ballsacks]
Mum: “Hey! You’re 24. I thought you grew out of that stuff!”
Me: “I grew INTO that stuff, not out of it.”
Mum: [after a long pause] “Wow! You’re going to be 25 soon!”
Me: [laughs hysterically]
Dad: [laughs hysterically]

After seeing an advertisement about bushfires

Mum: [To my dad] “If there’s a fire here, I’m going to take the dog, run straight to the beach and stay in the water. [long pause] What are you going to do?”

Discussing the new Australian Idol judge

Mum: “Well, of course he’s better than that fat dickhead, but he’s also heaps better than that other idiot, whats-his-name, Four-Door Holden or whatever…”

She saw me playing with my iPhone

Mum: “Who are you twatting?”

After I shouted “I have a headache” to no-one in particular

Mum: “SHUT UP!”

After being asked what our (French-inspired) dessert was

Mum: “The menu says ‘apple and lavender tarts, with dulche de leche’, which means ‘I haven’t the foggiest’.”

She saw a T-Shirt with the letter ‘W’ and an anchor (implying ‘wanker’)

Mum: “I don’t get it. Only women allowed on the boat?”

Regarding sperm donation

Mum: “I don’t get it. Why go through all the hassle of buying sperm, all the legalities, all the money spent, when you could just go to a bar, pick up, have sex with anyone and in five minutes it would be done for free?”

On the female anatomy

Mum: “So here in Australia ‘fanny’ doesn’t mean bum, it’s the front bit, right? So, what do you mean by ‘beef curtains’? I don’t get…” [watches me mime parting curtains] “Oh my goodness! Ewwww!”

On Situs Inversis (congenital condition in which the major organs are reversed or mirrored)

[Recieved via Email]

“That’s unbelievable! Guess it could be worse if your body parts were reversed (top to bottom) then your nose would constantly run and your feet would smell……….Anyway, I’m making shepherds pie for dinner. xox”

After being asked to rate a film out of five stars

Mum: “Oh, nine-and-a-half, easily!”

After watching Seven Pounds (film about organ donation)

Mum: “When I go, go ahead and give all my bits away. As if I’m going to even notice – I’ll be dead!”

While reading the morning paper

Mum: “I mean, imagine if you were the parent of the girl who bullied her online, driving her to suicide. How would you feel? It’s just so – OOH! POTATO AND LEEK PIE!”

On David Koch from Sunrise

Dad: “Did you know he used to be a finance reporter?”
Mum: “Did YOU know he’s a total KNOB JOCKEY!?!?”

On abstinence

Mum: “I don’t think I’m going to drink.” [pause] “I’ll just have a glass of Rosé instead.”

They were discussing wacky party themes

Dad: “What about a party with NO ALCOHOL?”[flails arms dramatically]

Mum: [death stare]

Re: their Christmas Eve party

Mum: “We don’t really need plates – it’s all fingering food.”

Dad: [throwing arms up triumphantly] “Excellent!”

On seeing my low-cut dress

Mum: “Are you allowed to have bosoms like that at work?”

Me: “Well, they’re not really removable.”

Upon entering the living room while I’m watching the Sixth Sense with a friend who’s never seen it before

Mum: “Isn’t it amazing that he’s actually DEAD the whole time?!”

Mum: We had this terrible incident at the hospital a few years ago… A woman who worked there part-time was going around stealing all the nurses’ purses and-

Me: Wait, hang on, the nurses’ purses?

Mum: Yeah, so?

Me: NURSES’ PURSES? That’s hilarious! It sounds like a shitty crime novel. Like, Nancy Drew and the Troubling Case of the Missing Nurses’ Purses. Haha!

Mum’s friend: So what happened then?

Me: Oh who cares. Let’s open another bottle of wine!

Mum: Can you open the champagne, darling?

Dad: The Chandon?

Mum: No, the Veuve. I told you to bring the Veuve!

Dad: Well I just grabbed whatever was in the fridge.

Mum: The fridge in the kitchen?

Dad: No, the fridge in the garage.

Mum: Why would you do that?

Dad: You just said ‘get the champagne from the fridge’. If you meant a specific champagne from a particular fridge, you should have said so.

Me: Yeah, Mum. The guy’s a GP, not an oracle.

Mum: I just don’t understand why you never listen to me properly. If you were unsure, you should have asked.

Me: Yeah, Dad. You went to medical school for six years but you can’t even figure out what champagne to bring to Christmas lunch?

Dad: I have worked my arse off so that you people can have champagne in the first place, and then this is how you treat me?

Me: Yeah, Mum!

Mum: Oh, right, because birthing your children and raising them into semi-respectable adults was just one big goddamn holiday for me.

Me: Yeah, Dad! Wait…what do you mean by semi?

Dad: Annik, please tell your mother that if anybody needs me, I’ll be in my study.

Mum: Come on, get up, get out of the spa. We’re going to pose for a family portrait.

Me: Seriously?

Mum: Yes, your uncle brought his camera and I can’t remember the last time we all had a photo together.

Me: I don’t want to do that.

Mum: Just shut up and get out. It’s Christmas and we’re going to look happy.

Me: But I’ve had, like, eight beers.

Mum: Well at least you’ll be smiling.

Mum: How’s the new job going?

Me: Good.

Mum: Tell me something about it!

Me: Today I wrote a 30-second radio spot.

Mum: Wonderful! Did I ever tell you I used to write for radio?

Me: No.

Mum: I wrote a jingle for Mr Tickety’s Farm Hire. Mr Tickety’s a friend to you… Mr Tickety’s a friend to meeeeee….

Me: Please don’t sing it.

Mum: That was back when I was teaching in Moree.

Me: What station was it? One-oh-four-point-middle-of-fucking-nowhere? Redneck FM?

Dad: Haha!!

Mum: Don’t laugh at her, she’s nasty.

Mum: It’s so sad, what’s happening with Margaret’s family…

Dad: What happened?

Mum: Well her children from her previous marriage are always torn between spending Christmas day at Margaret’s house, or spending it with their dad and his new wife. This year, they’ve all been fighting about it, and now all this nastiness has come out of the woodwork and it looks like they might not have Christmas lunch at all.

Me: YAWN.

Dad: Can they really not reach an agreement this year?

Mum: I don’t think they will, no. The daughter-in-law is being extremely defensive and firing up at everything Margaret says. Every time they try to have a conversation, it descends into bickering.

Dad: It is a pity. But maybe these issues need to be dealt with before the family can move on? Maybe it’s a good thing?

Mum: Yeah, I guess even normal families have to compromise at Christmas time. I mean, we always have to drive up to Newcastle to see your dad, and he hasn’t come down here in more than five years because he simply refuses to make the drive. Then we have to meet him at some awful club because he won’t cook lunch for us.

Dad: What? Dad made lunch for us on Christmas Day three years ago!

Mum: Yeah but it was woeful. A barbequed chicken and some salads.

Dad: Well is Christmas about the food you eat or the people you eat it with?

Me: Guys, Christmas is about getting drunk and admitting how you really feel about people. It’s about starting fights over repressed grudges and having painfully awkward public arguments in front of all your other family members, who scramble like mad to get out of the firing line as you attempt to embroil everyone else in your petty disputes. I’m glad to see you two are already getting into the swing of things.

Mum: Oh shut up, Annik.

Me: That’s the spirit!

My brother recently ripped out his shower while he was drunk and as a result, I now have to share my bathroom with him and everyone he has sex with. I complained about this to my mother and she told me that I needed to learn how to share.

Me: Like the Aborigines?

Mum: What?

Me: Collective ownership of property. Plus hardships. Everybody knows that, read a fucking book.

Mum: Why are you even still living here?