danger girl

Ever had one of those moments when you’re walking along with an umbrella, and it somehow gets lodged between your legs and trips you over?

Well, that pretty much sums up my day yesterday.

It started off at 5:43am, when I was ever so rudely awakened by what I thought was the garbage truck outside my window, so raced down the stairs to take the rubbish and recycling out, in the rain, only to find it wasn’t garbage day at all. And furthermore, I was not at all appropriately attired to be out in public (ok, so it was only the back alley) – which I realised when a disgustingly happy couple jogging past me with their cutesy little dog came to an abrupt halt and openly stared at me and my obviously offensive appearance, until I snarled and threatened to poke them in the eye unless they fucked off and stopped looking at me. Uh, hello! Guys, you’re the psychopaths, not me. I mean, seriously, you’d have to be psychotic to be out exercising that early in the morning. Right? The only kind of sweat I’d want to be working up at that time of the morning would involve.... well, nevermind.

So anyway, I dragged myself back inside and realised that the kitchen table really needed polishing (huh?), so went to the sink and got the Mr Sheen out and started polishing until my housemate came out, glared at me, and demanded to know why the hell I was cleaning at 6am?? Hmmm, now what was I saying about psychopaths?

Then I managed to shower, dress, hustle my arse up to the bus stop, eventually find a ride to the station, and jump on a train to Parramatta. So far so good.

Upon arriving at said hellish destination, I decided to get coffee to help me through the morning. I buy, on impulse: one large strong flat white, two sugars. One piece of banana bread, toasted with butter. And against better judgment, a small tub of strawberry yoghurt – which came in a stupid plastic cup and no lid. Paid my $8:70 (bloody hell!!) then made with the near impossible task of carting this load the two blocks to my office. Did I mention it was raining? Well, drizzling is perhaps a better word. Somehow I fumbled my way through Church Street Mall, narrowly avoiding collision with the Falun Gong homies practising Tai Chi in the park. Normally I enjoy this regular feature of my morning.... and now upon seeing me coming they even part to allow me through – mainly, I think, because by now they’re pretty much used to me walking amongst them with my eyes closed to enjoy the serenity, listening to the gentle rustling of their clothes, and the eerie voice of the little old man leading them through the movements. And I’ve only ever bumped into three people and knocked them off balance and to the ground in the last six months or so, which I figure is doing pretty good. Though in my paranoia, I’m convinced they’re always talking about me, saying to each other "here comes that bumble-headed white girl again". But I don’t care, I feel kinda like Moses parting the Red Sea. It’s really rather empowering. Yet weird. Hell, one even had a massive sword one morning, which frightened the hell out of me.

Oops, I digressed. Still with me? I’m telling you about my disastrous morning yesterday. Now where was I? Oh yeah, so I managed to make it all the way to the traffic lights opposite my building without incident. Damn those traffic lights, they were my undoing. There I stood, with coffee, yoghurt, banana bread, umbrella, my (stupidly oversized) bag slipping off my shoulder, my headphones falling off my head, and my swipe card ready to get me into the building. And somehow I had to figure out how the hell I was going to press the little button at the traffic lights to trigger the lights to change so I could cross the road. Forget for a moment that there was some guy standing just behind me, also wanting to cross the road – who, it turns out, works for the same department as me, and who also happened to have NOTHING in his damn hands and yet refused to press the goddamn button. After giving it a few moments thought, I precariously balanced the yoghurt on top of my coffee (which had a lid) in my right hand, and in my left hand grasped the bread, umbrella, swipe card, and was hunched over to stop my bag slipping completely off my shoulder and knock everything out of my hands. I reached forward with my right hand, pressed the button, and bam! the yoghurt toppled off and splatted on the ground in front of me, spraying up all over the front of my black tights and skirt. Fuck it!

And to make matters worse, just as I’d finished throwing a complete tantrum and slammed everything else down on the pavement in sheer frustration (a split second later hoping desperately that no-one had seen the last 20 seconds or so of my behaviour), I realised my good friend and workmate, Meegan, was stopped at the lights opposite in her car, along with her kinda cute brother, and had witnessed the whole shebang.

Could it get much worse? Apparently so.

My fucking pen had a complete spastic attack and spewed blue ink all over me. My eyes started itching (damn you Scott Baio and your freaking pink eye) because of the pollen in the air, and so by the end of the day I looked like some hideous creature from god knows where, with big red googly eyes. Some crazy homeboys on my train home... oh my god, had I morphed into Dude McFly on the set of Back to the Future, and been transmogrified (whatever the hell that means) to the nineteen-fucking-eighties? These two, I don’t know, Korean? gangbangers (well, they were in my head) sat behind me, with their ‘ghettoblaster’, um, blasting, some hip hop crap. And stupid me, I turned around and glared at them, challenging them with my freaky puffed up red eyes to turn the music down or else (not such a good idea, considering it was dark outside, and we were the only three people in the carriage). Their response? Not only did they turn the fucking music UP, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t also start singing (read as, wailing) at me.

But I got home safely, finally. And the lesson learnt? I’ll stick to letting the guy who sits next to me buy me coffee and raisin toast each morning, thank you very much. Self sufficiency is really overrated.

Oh, and by the way, I don’t have a habit of placing umbrellas between my legs. Well, not normally.