Now, back to television. Are you the kind of crazy person who has a tendency to identify with a certain character in every movie or TV show they watch? Probably not. But I am, and this is my blog, so shut up and listen.
You know The Simpsons? I always thought of myself as a tasteful blend between Milhouse and Groundskeeper Willie. Innocent and lovable with just a hint of mind-blowing insanity.
Last Sunday evening I saw an episode I'd never seen before, and realised just how wrong I was.
Principle Skinner: You destroyed the car I rent from Mother!
Bart: You rent a car from your Mother
Principle Skinner: Rent or own...only thirty five more payments and it's halfway mine!
Holy shit, you guys.
I'm Principle Skinner.
I gotta explain this one: When I was around 19 and on the verge of finally getting my license, I decided I wanted a car. The only problem was, I had no money. Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I just didn't have enough money for a car. I can't explain this. I suspect it might have had something to do with my brief but extreme foray into the world of internet shopping. Anyway, luckily for me, I have the kind of parents who are awesome enough to buy me a car, so long as I promised to pay them back in equal monthly installments. Yes, my parents are amazing. It's truly unfortunat that they gave birth to such an idiot.
See, I was left in charge of determining the value of these 'monthly installments'. And since there are few things I enjoy more than having a laugh at my parents' expense, I thought it would be funny to pay back the total cost of my car...about $20 at a time.
In hindsight, there were a few warning signs that this idea would come back to bite me in the ass. Here was the first one:
1) My parents agreed straight away.
And as if that wasn't enough of a red light, there was also this:
2) As they agreed, they were in hysterics.
Turns out, I was so busy congratulating myself on my own hilarity, I failed to realise this 'clever' idea of mine meant I would be paying my parents back for a period of approximately eight thousand years.
Did you hear that?
Paying my parents back for a period of approximately eight thousand years.
Eight thousand years.
Sometimes I really resent my own ridiculousness.
While we're on the topic of how ridiculous I am:
I have never wanted to ride a segway more in my life than I do right now.
They say segways are designed to be ridden by even the most uncoordinated of humans, and that it's pretty much impossible to accidentally fall off one.
I believe I am the exception to this rule. I don't care if a chimpanzee in overalls can do it. I'm the girl who almost fell down a flight of stairs with a cardboard box on her head in high school; if a chimpanzee is able to get itself into a pair of overalls, it's probably smarter than me anyway.
One of the reasons I love living and working in Lane Cove is that it's a suburb chock-full of crazy characters, one of whom happens to ride a segway. I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING. I had to put that in capitals because I knew you'd think I was. I don't blame you. The first time I witnessed him whizzing past out doors, well...
Oh yes. Just in case it wasn't obvious enough that I'm probably the coolest person you know; I jizzed my pants over a segway.
Line up, gentlemen.