Obstinately continuing with my 'strike' in a non-violent protest against my oppressors (The Parentals), I had eked out the last few days of existence clutching at the remnants of my social life... on MSN and Facebook. So, what does this 'strike' entail, you ask? Well, as a sixteen year old nerd, this involves spending all waking hours on the internet in order to repeatedly underline the fact that I NEED A SOCIAL LIFE; flatly refusing to do chores and find a job; bingeing on chocolate truffles in lieu of The Parentals' painstakingly home-cooked food; deliberately clicking a pen for half an hour to irritate them and sporadically retreating into my room to stare blankly at the ceiling whilst turning up classical music full blast. Yes, that's what I said. Whilst the common rebellious teen would seek solace in the likes of Nirvana, Linkin Park and such, the average nerd believes that the fiery first movement of the Moonlight Sonata is excitement enough. Any deviation from this would surely upset the structure of modern society, and that would be rather selfish of me.

However, after mentally and physically rotting for about 48 hours, I was emancipated from the shackles of the Asian-over-protectivism movement. Yes, whilst I was worryingly locked up in my room with Bach blaring on the radio and George Orwell in my hands, they vented their frustration rather vociferously at me through the door, luring me out with the slightest mention of 'going out'. After being bombarded with further horror stories of little girls' remains being fed to pigeons whilst their hair is auctioned on eBay China, we finally reached a compromise and I was allowed to go to Chadstone with Van.

Rather excited that this was, in fact, my first shopping trip to Chadstone (blasphemy by teenage standards, I know), I was driven by Mum to school to pick up my books and received a measly $56 for my pains; indeed, the other $100 went to the 'charitable' Parents' Association. Hurrah! However, this seemed to further raise Mum's spirits as she dropped me off at the bus stop, which conveniently coincided with an exclusive radio report on the poor soul who was stabbed to death in Box Hill (surprise surprise...). What a brilliant send off for the recently emancipated teenager.

While munching on an edible heart attack in the form of cow hooves and camel tongue (yes, I picked up a Hungry Jack's Bacon Deluxe on the way), I eventually reached Chaddy and headed into the Krispy Kreme store while waiting for Van. After getting a 'twinkle in the eye' (as Van calls it) whilst perving on an equally delicious assistant, I was mightily disappointed when I was served by a chick instead, gorging myself on an artery-clogging Original Clazed as consolation. Ah well. It's a sad sign of our society when we have to pay TWO DOLLARS for a bottle of water, but seeing as I needed to wash this fit-sized globule of saturated fat down, I headed into Coles. However, any bitterness towards capitalism was quickly extinguished when I realised that Coles Chadstone had automated checkouts! Marvelling at the wonder of it all as a cool female voice explained what I had to do, I punched the touch screen and panicked when I couldn't find the coin slot, much to the supervisor's amusement... as well as the several old grannies checking out effortlessly. Excuse me, but I'm from Knox; I do believe that automatically classes me as a country bumpkin.

When Van finally arrived, we headed into Myer for some high-class perfume whoring. Emerging with a poisonous concoction of perfumes all over my arms (and no, I'm not referring to Christian Dior), we entered a swanky tie store to find a tie for her brother and were promptly greeted by the HOTTEST CAUCASIAN MAN I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. Although the mantra "I must marry an Asian man lest I end up eating fish & chips for the rest of my life and get disowned by my Chinese parents" had been drilled into my skull from birth, not only did he have the looks and the charm of an Abercrombie model, but he was wearing a sharply tailored suit as well. An Abercrombie model in a suit... needless to say, I found it immensely difficult to prevent myself from swooning and blacking out on the floor (in his arms, if I had any luck). However, I was devastated when Van exasperatingly approached a second sales assistant instead - whether from intimidation by the Adonis-like figure before her or sheer stupidity (just joking, Van), I have yet to work out. Trying to endure heart palpitations as the assistant showed us a diversity of classy ties, I was again horrified when Van decided not satisfy Adonis by buying a tie from their store. However, the second we stepped out of the store, we gave each other a knowing glance, and as Van so eloquently put it, "I wanted to rape him". Hilarious.

Although I was hopelessly lost in the labyrinth that is Chaddy, Van navigated through the shops with ease. I managed to find the hottest pair of pointy pumps and pyjamas I had ever seen in my life, before going to the bowling alley to meet up with Van's Mazenod friends. Although refusing to place our dainty little feet in the festering-with-tinea bowling shoes, Van and I joined the non-Asian team, and were hence totally pwned by the fabled 'Asian Touch'. Although being recognised by my peers as unco and physically challenged, Van and I alternated turns, managed to beat her primary school friend Matt and scored TWO strikes. One wasn't even recognised by the glitchy system (it was a 'spare'), but I was euphoric. Gaffes included Van hitting the barrier with a potential strike before the pins were ready and someone knocking a pin into the gutter and jamming the system. However, we took advantage of this, as a gutterball bounced off it and managed to knock some pins over. Ah well, at least we managed to close the losing gap from 100 points to 50 by the second game...

After our games, we parted ways with the boys and dragged Matt (aka our husband-like-shopping-bag-carrier) along to Jadaiah. While Van searched for a cardigan, I tried on various sashes on my graduation dress, and both of us interrogated a harassed-looking Matt outside the changerooms with the cliched "oh my God, this makes me look fat, doesn't it?" Luckily for him, he was aware that the only acceptable answer that didn't involve getting stoned to death was a vigorous shake of the head. Feeling the pinch that only an Asian can feel when she watches her birthday hongbao stash dwindle before her eyes, I paid a hefty $25 for a black silk sash. Needing some makeup, we hopped over to Priceline to spend an excruciating hour caking our faces with ten different shades of foundation and forcing Matt to find us some Hollywood tape... much to his confusion. Indeed, men are not familiar with the complexities of cosmetics - when asked for mascara, Matt promptly returned with an eyelash curler. Only men.

However, it is unfair for us to say that all men are cosmetically challenged. Indeed, there was a creepy old Asian man perusing for a set of French nails with a rather bemused sales assistant... how... unusual.

-Mel

Labels: Outings, Rants

0 comment(s)