From the Mind of an Opinionated Teenager: Rants on Life, Society and Bloody Good Cheesecake …
-laughs- someone told me that Fictionpress is vaguely therapeutic, and a good place to rant. I sure as hell don't need therapy the floor may debate on this issue, however, but a good rant does help everyone out. So, I shall start by recounting an event that I saw one day on my way home from school.
Like, okay. I was walking home from school today, thinking quietly, minding my own business, when I accidentally bumped into a group of girls, all of whom instantly turned to face me. Upon seeing my face, they all shrieked "Shaynaaaaaa!" followed by the requisite "Shayna, does my arse look big in this?" that one only receives from those who obviously will spend most of their working lives gracing the pages of Playboy.
Now, let us clarify a few things here. These girls surely must have realised after spotting me that:
a) I was not Shayna.
b) I was not wearing their school uniform.
c) I obviously was engrossed in NME and did not give a shit about the size - or abundance thereof - of their rears.
Of course, this means nothing to the chavvy, dim girls that make up 95 of London's teenage schoolgirls. Even more horrifying was the revelation that girl A had, actually, had a nose job. Either that or she had a perfect, Giselle-esque style nose, the sort of nose that makes the other, underprivileged girls look like Paris Hilton in the nose department -and I was willing to bet on the former.
What is it with people and plastic surgery? I mean, please! We're teenagers, we have our whole lives ahead of us and she fucks herself up for ... Hugh Hefner? Johnny Depp? The idiot who works in the corner shop on Finchley Road? I mean, what if they break up and she's stuck with that nose on her face for the rest of her life and every time she looks in the mirror she thinks of him and she goes all emo and tries to cut her nose off but that fails so she commits suicide and throws £3000 down the drain? Then what?
Or maybe I'm just reading WAY too much into this.
So. I was at home, trying to do a Spanish essay that was two weeks late and listening to MCR, when my mother walked into my room. My mother. In my room.
And yes, once again, Sakura's list of embarrassing moments has been extensively aired.
As you may or may not know, last night my dearest mother decided that as I was now a "woman", I must learn about "the facts of love", which involved me going scarlet with embarrassment and spitting my drink halfway across the room while she happily ranted on about condoms. I'm fourteen for fuck's sake; I'm not even legal yet. Not to mention I am single and someone would have to be:
To even ask me out, let alone ... ugh. Just ugh. And I have known the "facts of life" since Year 6 PSHE class when a cowering nurse armed with a glass of water, tampons, condoms and a banana tried to teach it to a class full of giggling eleven year olds. And then she needed another condom so she reached into our form teacher's bag and ... Oh God ... I cringe even thinking about it. Suffice it to say, none of us could look dear Mrs Benjamin in the face for the rest of the year.
The thing that irritates me most of all, beyond belief, is the sort of person who will flounce into class after an exam going "Oooooh, I did SO BADLY! I mean, what did you get for Question 12? I mean, I worked it out on a calculator afterwards and it says I got the right answer down to the 65th decimal place but I might have worked it out all wrong and I know I have all As but I'm stupid and I'm a failure!" Thing is, this girl knows she scored in the 90s and just happens to look like a supermodel while eating like a pig. She knows she's destined for fame and glory while you look like the back end of a bus and will be happy to scrape a pass on a test that you found difficult, while she and the annoying-genius-who-never-works-but-gets-full-marks-constantly found it a breeze.
This girl will also stand in front of the bathroom mirrors and declare her pale, airbrushed skin "acne-ridden" while you look like the "before" picture on an advert for zit cream. She will clutch her tiny hips and moan about being fat while you have, unfortunately, inherited the big hips and bum of your mother and the flat chest of your father's sisters. She will also be able to tuck into snickers bars while you dutifully crunch your way through mounds of lettuce in the hope of losing your bum, and she won't gain a gram while you flounder about in – fat! – Size 10 jeans. She goes to parties every night and still does her homework while you resort to coming into school half an hour early to do your maths and French. Mary-Sue is also popular with members of both sexes, teacher's pet AND universally acclaimed teenage sex bomb. Oh, and she will play an instrument to at least Grade 7 standard and be in the NYO. I still have to find a fatal flaw in this breed of humans, and when I do, boy will I exploit it …
And yes, I do know people like this. And no, I'm not at all friendly to them.
You know these really irritating people who stand outside Waitrose and harass you to Save the Whales/Join Greenpeace/Become a Kaftan Wearing Hippie in Borneo/Become a celibate? It seems that they have been briefed in whom to target for maximum annoyance. Teenage girls late for a cello lesson: 10 points. The elderly: 5 points. Normal looking people: 2 points. City slickers: 1 point. Chavs: 0 points and pay docked.
Can the arseholes not see that I am, indeed, late for an appointment with Mrs Practise Makes Perfect, carrying a cello nearly my size and am about to miss the bus which will stop me from having to walk three miles with a 10kg weight on my back? And, of course, they will sport the requisite headscarf/dreadlocks/crew cut and have an accent that only interpreters, or BBC interviewers, can understand. And they will grab your arm, to prevent escape.
"Sav de welz. Al de welz dyingh, bery bery bad."
"Look, please can you let me go, I'm about to miss the-"
"Gib to sav de welz. Bery bery gud."
"Listen, I'm running late and I would appreciate-"
"You writ crebit card detail hea. And sign der."
"I'm fourteen and I don't own a bloody credit card! Now listen, let me go or I'll-"
Suffice it to say, £2 and a missed bus later and we were in business.
I have one more thing to say before closing off for the evening because it is 01:17 am and I am vairbloodytired. This thing is about …
I hate chatspeak. Don't use it around me, ever. It's disgusting, pointless and makes you look more illiterate than Britney Spears. Do people think it really makes them look cool and internet-savvy to typ lyk dis? bcuz its nt v. kl n mks u luk lyk a chav. o, i 4gt, chavs do tlk lyk dis.
My eyes and fingers bleed from the sheer torture of having to read and write that. Seriously people, take the time to add in one extra letter and watch the difference. You might, actually, look your age.
Just as bad is when people extend the end of every word or add like "zzzz" to the end of every letter and overuse "…………." to make their "post" look "cool". The result looks something like this:
this is an actual post, from a website I use.
"hahah the tv thingee was sooo funni we were playng some wii thingee.. well X and Y were.. and X threw the controller and well ye there was this huge BANG the a huge FLASH on the tv!!! it was jksss... nywys my summers been koooool.. buh im missing u :( u shud sooo be here!!!
hmph.. nywys i gtg ttyl xx come bak soon"
now, would you rather read that, or:
"Hah, the TV thing was so funny! We were playing some Wii thing … well, X and Y were – and X threw the controller and there was this huge BANG, and a huge flash on the TV! It was funny … anyway, my summer's been cool, but I'm missing you and you should SO be there!
hmph. Anyway, I gotta go, talk to you later. xxx come back soon!"
Better spelling and better grammar and eloquence makes a cleaner world. Come on people, use your brains!
AN: I might update this further if people are interested. Please review and tell me your opinions! Reviews boost my ego and make me want to write even more! If you liked this, why don't you check out my other stories?
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