Is it coming from Wagga Wagga that's likely to give someone poor impulse control, a phobia of high school and bad hair? Who cares? It's stand-up gold!
Words that should be retired
I recently acquired a terrific haircut. By the end of the session, I was a ranga Rod Stewart in a Collingwood garret, standing beside a proud hairdresser, knee-deep in orange locks and armed with what I still suspect were pinking shears. I strutted into the world, very pleased. The bubble burst when my amaze-do was described by someone as ‘funky’. No! Wrong word! Therefore I insist on the retirement of selected words –no one can maintain dignity-uttering skin-crawlers like ‘funky’, ‘daggy’, ‘panties’ and ‘chillax’. Reinstate common usage of ‘capricious’, ‘pantaloons’, ‘blackguard’ and ‘ballyhoo’… preferably in the one sentence. Conform!
High school friends contacting you on Facebook
As my Facebook shenanigans are mostly for networking/promotion, I try to keep it non-intimate, limiting most drunken, emotionally cathartic rants for hysterical phone calls to a select group of long-suffering friends. Nevertheless, this year marks 20 years since I was in high school (fresh-faced scamp, ain’t I?), and, behold! A tidal wave of class-of-92 people are trying to friend me. Why? Thirty-odd festivals around the world, and you wanna chat about your kids and reminisce on Mr O’Brien strangling a sparrow in Year 7 English (long story)? Is there a polite way to say, “There might be a reason I’ve not spoken to you for two decades”? Frankly, faking my own death is the best option so far (no, I didn’t enjoy high school much).
Poor impulse control
If a work event is catered, I will hoover up all remaining stale muffin slices, bendy meat-paste sandwich triangles and fudge fingers, even if I’m about to be child-at-a-party sick. Why? It’s FREE!!! If you’re gonna indulge, indulge so hard that your face explodes! Nevertheless, if I see a baby in a pram, I just manage to curb the urge to push it around in circles while making gear-change sound effects. Awkwardly, I also fight this impulse when I spy a wheelchair… Anyway, my tenuous impulse control does fail sometimes. I’ve frightened the bejesus out of many a stranger by subconsciously tucking in the tags on their shirts. It’s when I go for the undies tags that I get in real trouble.
Geraldine Quinn will be appearing at the Local Taphouse. 8.30pm. $12. Mon May 7.