1. She can see photos of you fucked up (that’s a given.)
2. She can’t remember her password and will get drunk at Christmas lunch and bang on about what a stupid website it is and how she’s going to ring them on Monday and tell them to “let her back in”.
3. She takes ambiguous status updates literally and will complain that your cousin’s status simply said “sigh.” (“Just sigh. Nothing else. Why is she sighing? What does it mean?”)
4. She calls you and asks you how to delete things from her feed once she’s read them. (“What, you mean other people’ s posts?” “Yes, how do I get rid of them?”)
5. She is giddy at suddenly being privy to so much of your personal life and comments on every single fucking thing you do.
6. Your creeper flatmate tries to add her as a friend.
7. She emails you asking you to explain what is a creeper?
8. She posts horrific anecdotes that refer to your father and her “doing it”.

At the terracotta warriors exhibition…
Mum: They say that every warrior was crafted to look like an actual living soldier at the time. Each statue is unique.
Me: Really?
Mum: Well, who knows.. They’re Chinese so they all look the same anyway.

After a trip to Guatemala…
Mum: The toilets over there were awful. The only decent one I found was a disabled cubicle at a restaurant. It had better toilet paper.
Me: That’s weird.
Mum: I know, why bother? It’s not like they can feel the difference.

Upon hearing the news that my cousin and her girlfriend were engaged…
Mum: To do what?

“You look like you’re on holidays!”
- my yoga teacher who never wears makeup

“Wowee, we’re looking very…casual.”
- my chiro, I think he might be gay

“You look nice today.”
- my boyfriend, he is obligated to say this even if I have been awake for 2 days drinking

“Are you ill?”
- my mother

During a recent school night session with some old co-workers, the conversation turned to growing up and childhood pastimes.

Claire: So I named my budgies Popcorn and Peanuts, and when they died, I buried them in my fairy garden.

Me: What the hell is a fairy garden?

Claire: You didn’t have a fairy garden?

Me: No?

Julia: I guess your parents just didn’t love you enough.

Claire: If it makes you feel any better, my parents eventually turned my fairy garden into a Japanese stone garden.

Me: No, that doesn’t make me feel better. I hate all your North Shore problems. I played with empty cardboard boxes and tupperware containers as a child. I didn’t even know what a Barbie was until I started school. I had a sandpit full of dirt and everything I owned was a hand-me-down of some kind from my brother.

Julia: Is that why you dress badly?

Me: Fuck you.

———————————————————————————————————–

Too many of my conversations like this. I still want that fairy garden though.

According to the internet, this is what I missed out on.

Ugh so pretty

Even worse

This is bullshit

Now they are just taking the piss

Ugh. My parents were soooo mean. My mother had me convinced that raw cookie dough tasted like medicine until I was old enough to wonder why she was eating it all herself if it was so gross.

Did you have a fairy garden? Or were your parents bad people too? What is the phone number for DOCS?

This was illustrated by the talented and sometimes awkward Mitch Hawkins

Mum: Will you be home for dinner?

Me: Not if you’re cooking.

Mum: You’re being really obnoxious right now.

Me: So’s your face.

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: 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.