Bitchy Mc Bitchface

When I enrolled in an Autobiography class I didn't expect that I'd have to buy a whole lot of set texts, read these said texts and then write essays referencing them.
In fact I didn't really expect to have to do anything except write some sort of blog-like essay minus the poor structure and grammar and maybe I'd get a B+ and a pat on the head.

I also didn't expect to have to listen between 3-5pm each Monday, to other people's ranting pieces in a classroom with no windows, tables or coffee breaks. Apart from the holiday-diary-like readings of guys talking about their fishing trips, some of the stories actually managed to keep me from banging my head on the wall (because there were no desks you see).

There was the reformed heroin addict who talked about what it was like shooting up and then eventually having all your friends drop dead. Then there was the nut-case ala 'Full Metal Jacket' who wrote about his stint in the army and all the drills word for word, he obviously knew them by heart .

I amused myself though much of the classes by whispering "I knew it!" to my only friend who sat next to me, listening politely and trying not to laugh. Then when a girl who I always labeled as "insane" began to talk about how much she hated psychologists it all got too much. The writing class was like a getting everyones diaries read out to you and me putting silent bets on what each person was going to reveal.

But don't worry readers, I'm sure by now you are hoping that I will get whats coming to me. Next Monday I will get my chance to read aloud and be silently mocked by my peers. Or possibly outwardly mocked, in the form of "constructive criticism". I haven't started writing anything yet because everything that happens in my life is too embarrassing to read aloud.

Anyway I'll leave you now with some (stolen) images of Parklife. These photos of people I don't know, nor want to know will demonstrate to you in visual terms why I will not be going to parklife EVER AGAIN.

CAE Land of opportunity

We received the CAE (Centre of Adult Education) course guide in the mail recently. I was the first to the flick through it and smell that delicious new ink smell, mail time is my favourite time of day.

My mum doesn't really like mail-time though because mostly she just gets her bills and parking tickets from me that she thinks are her own. Also Mum says our Postie is "a retard" because he always delivers mail to the wrong house. I wouldn't mind getting the neighbour's mail if mum would actually let me snoop through it. But she doesn't so I just shove it grudgingly into their concrete letter box on the concrete drive outside their concrete house which they water daily, see: the greeks.

Anyway CAE is a wonderland. I did a VCE subject there because they didn't offer philosophy at my high school. It was boring and strange being in a class full of mature age students but there was a snack machine in the hallway so I got by. Also it was the first time that I realised that not all adults were smarter than me. I got better grades than most of them, as did my good-looking and intelligent fellow student Divinetrash.

I noticed that the course guide offers pretty much anything you could possibly want to learn about and some other stuff that you could possibly do without. My personal favourite went something like this,

Nightclub Dancing
Taste the three main styles of dance- house, Latin and hip-hop. Improve your confidence and ability to dance the night away, whatever music the dj plays.
$169 for 8 sessions

In my experience its pretty easy to develop confidence on the dance floor. Just a touch of ecstasy and you're off cutting sick, going loose etc. And it doesn't necessarily take accompanying music, a friend of mine grooved away for ages to the sound of her clock ticking.

Here's another CAE gem...

Soulmates, Angels & Guides
What is the proof they exist? Meet one or more of your guides and understand their purpose in your life.
$136 1 session

Ah the heavenly sky is the limit at CAE! It's worth enrolling just to make regular appearances at Degraves St to up your street cred. I'm speaking purely as a recommendation for others here, as my street cred is sufficiently upped already. After all today I bought a $50 cap from Schwipe.

Sucker.

The End and stuff. So go up your street cred and get ripped off like all the other dj dancing, latte sipping, overpriced cap wearing cool brats.




The Greeks: The despicable neighbours on our left whom I have left many complaint letters to and which they have ignored. They indulge you see, in vast fluorescent lighting at all hours and much noise (sort of like screaming chickens). They enjoy watering their concrete, burning off rubbish and staring at people with malice (anyone who walks past) and not saying "hello".