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Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Pinky Writes a Letter to her Sixteen Year Old Self (Part 2)

Dear Pinky,

Stop staring at the Vinnie Barbarino look-alike in your art class. The pensive expression on his face is not actually one of brooding reflection…it’s one of vacant futility. Those soulful brown eyes are NOT sweet guy and come to beddish… they’re bad boy and rev headish.

What EVER you do, no NOT tell your friend Pip to tell Vinnie you ‘like’ him. It will mean two years spending every Saturday night at the drive-in nestled in the EH Holden he's devotedly restoring.

You’ll be nestled in however, on your lonesome because ‘Vinnie’ will be outside of the car in the carpark checking out what’s under all of his mate’s bonnets.

You'll be forced to watch Steve McQueen chucking wheelies in ‘Gone in Sixty Seconds’ at least eighteen times and will be compelled to listen to interminable exchanges between Vinnie and his mates about carburettors, spark plugs and cracked radiators.

He’ll proudly ask you to scrutinise his brand new drive shaft and huge diff and I’m not using euphemisms.

When Vinnie finally dumps you it will be a relief of sorts but, do not then ask your friend Kaylene to tell her spunky neighbour you ‘like’ him.

This will only lead to another two years sitting on the sidelines during his weekend footy games watching your very own ‘Russell Fairfax’ get tackled, stand up, play the ball, get tackled, stand up, play the ball, until you want to rip your eyeballs out, douse them with kero and light a match.

But there’s worse yet to come. 

When ‘Russell’ finishes the footy season, the CRICKET season will commence. Whilst footy games last about one hour; cricket goes on for three long, hot days

It’s not that you’ll feel you would rather watch paint dry… it’s more like you’ll rather watch paint dry while being forced to listen to the loud version of the Crazy Frog on a loop while being flayed by a cat-o-nine-tails and fed tripe.

Sadly Pinky, you will attend all of these games watching loyally like a pathetic Labrador until one day Russell just stops calling you.

It will be about then that you finally realise it’s time you found your own passions, preferably not including boys… at least for a while.

                          Tripe...yum yum!