Sunday, August 15, 2004

It's my birthday today. I'm quite sad and haven't had a very good day. I went out drinking last night. I was wearing my black cowl-neck, halter-neck minidress as a top, with my black hooker heels and a pair of very tight grey pinstriped jeans that only cost me $10 (!!). They were too long for me so I rolled them up. Later on in the evening when I was stumbling to the Rob Roy in a desperate attempt to inebriate myself, having forgotten to bring alcohol to the G-Street party, I got one heel tangled in the cuff of my pants and fell over. Now I have a lovely bruise on one knee and one forearm. I don't think anyone was around to witness this except some tosser yelling into a mobile phone, "It's Jordan, come to the party motherfuck!"

But I had a very delightful afternoon shopping at Chadstone yesterday, in the guise of 'doing research' for my CSAA bling paper. Me and Gemma made a day of it - we had lunch first, then we went to all the trashy teenwear shops (which would have been our favourites anyway) and I took surreptitious photos of the displays. Unfortunately I was too paranoid of being accosted by security to take photos of the interiors of the shops, except for Sportsgirl.

Here is what I bought:

an elasticated bracelet made of gold squares threaded together ($3)
a pair of gold earrings in the shape of large flat teardrops ($2)
a white off-the-shoulder, three-quarter sleeve angora jumper ($15)
a pair of earrings in the shape of music notes, one a quaver and one a semiquaver ($6)
a fluffy lipstick-pink flat cap ($5)

After having watched Mallrats on telly last Sunday night, I have really been thinking about the nature of the mall as a privatised public space. Gemma was jestingly calling me "Meaghan Morris". I haven't been to a big shopping centre like Chadstone on a weekend for years, and I was quite alarmed to see all the packs of thirteen-year-olds roaming around. Makes me remember that my idea of a sophisticated Saturday was to get all dressed up and go to the city, where I would browse the shops, imagining what I'd buy if I had any money, and maybe get McDonalds. Classy.

It was kind of like re-living that on Saturday. Me and Gemma would make silly jokes (eg: in front of a display of pearl jewellery I made up a song to the tune of Jay-Z's "Girls, Girls, Girls" ("I like pearls, pearls, pearls, pearls, pearls I do adore...") And in the car we would turn up the stereo really loud when there was a good song on.

As for my birthday drinks, thanks to everyone who showed up (you all know who you are!). I was particularly pleased to see so many people from my work show up, although I was quite disappointed that some of my best friends weren't there. Then I went to the G-Street party which was amazing. The dance floor was so crowded that it was like a cross between moshing and freaking (Ethan described it as "having really bad sex with forty people at once"). And Tristan burnt me with a cigarette. Thanks Tristan.

However, after a while I felt myself starting to get really sad thinking about how another year had gone by and all the things I like to do (like shop at places like Supre and wear gaudy teenwear, listen to pop music, drink to excess, watch Video Hits) will soon be considered undignified, and that all my friends can attract men and I cannot. That's when I tried to seek out more alcohol, but the Rob Roy didn't do takeaway, so I had to scull a pot and then go back to the party.

I decided to go home because being at the party among all these hot twentysomethings snogging each other was really getting me down. It was quite embarrassing: when I was saying goodbye to Tash, I lost it and started crying, and she grabbed me by my wrists, forcing me into a posture like Skippy the Bush Kangaroo, and said that if I wanted to change my life I had to stop drinking and start exercising, and that she would help me with that. I can't remember whether I actually told her my objections (1: exercising with her would humiliate me beyond belief; 2: the mere thought of the enormity of this plan was enough to drive me to drink; 3: plenty of fat, unattractive drunkards can find sexual partners, and so there must be something wrong with me).

When I got home at about 3am, I was so overwrought that I couldn't sleep. It was about 7am by the time I drifted off, and I was feeling like Atreyu in the Swamps of Sadness again all today. Video Hits didn't cheer me up; it only irritated the crap out of me, particularly the dumb hosts Axle and Kelly's bad impressions of Molly Meldrum. (Can there be such a thing? Molly was bad enough himself!) I wonder how they feel having to introduce new clips by people who were more successful at Australian Idol than they were. Particularly Cosima DeVito's stupid cover of "When the War Is Over". Cosima is so ugly. She looks like she should be one of those creatures off Star Trek that has a wrinkly forehead. A Klingon? And she wiggles her jaw when she sings. And the video was so highly ludicrous that I can't even be bothered to describe it (I think Guy or Elanor might have done so already). I even found myself shedding a tear at Paulini's shithouse song, which I hate.

But on the upside, here are the best birthday presents I have received:

Renee, Gemma and George gave me the hip hop yoghurt maker, the EziYo! That is so cool! Ever since Gemma bought one several weeks ago I have been obsessed with it.

Agent FareEvader gave me a notebook set with alarming Engrish inscription, which i can't recall exactly cos I don't have it on me, but it was something about "I like viruses".

Chris and Ari gave me a white and pink handbag.

My parents gave me some earrings that are a cluster of different shades of pink beads.

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