the ten songs

I was reading a whole heap of 'Worst Songs of All Time Lists' last night and realised that some of the songs were so hilariously bad that I had to love them. It kind of hard to pick a song that's so bad it's well... bad. (Except for What's Your Flavour/Flava - Craig David and I Love Pop Music - Ben Lee) Instead of making a list of the best songs or the worst songs, I'm going to do both. Mostly because if the RTA hadn't screwed me around yesterday, I'd most likely be driving now...





10.Wasabi - Lee Harding

Yet another past Idol contestant faded into obscurity. And, to be honest, so did his song. It makes very little sense and he scares me. But, he is singing about condiments - which instantly makes a song memorable. RIP, Lee Harding's career, though.

9. Macarena - Los Del Rio

"Something, something, something, something, macarena! Something, something, something, something macarena. Ah, something, something, something, something macarena! Heeeeeeey, MACARENA!" It's one of the very few dance-songs that I know the dance to. This and the Ketchup Song.

8. The Ketchup Song - Las Ketchup

"I said a-hey a-ha, a-something a-something a-something,something something, a-something a-thingy with the boogie and the somethingy beat". Yes, it's on my iPod. No, I don't care. When it came out it was the coolest thing to know the dance (as opposed to now where the coolest thing is to know who hates who). It's so catchy. And I'm pretty sure they're singing about Tomato Sauce in Spanish/Spanglish while on a beach. What more does a song need?? Exactly.

7. I'm Blue - Eiffel 65
"I'm blue, da ba de da ba die" Again, pointless and awesome. If you don't agree, think of the fun hours you can spend filling in the missing lyrics with friends and family... "I'm blue, if I were green I would die..."

6. Who Let the Dogs Out - Baha Men
A title that defies the laws of punctuation. I respect their rebelliousness, though I still don't know who let the dogs out...

5. Achy, Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus
Hate me all you want, but I think it's outrageously, chessily AWESOME! The lyrics are bad, the music is bad, the tune is bad and the hair was definitely bad. I can't help but like it for it's badness, no matter how painful it is.

4. Strawberry Kisses - Nikki Webster

A twelve year old Australian girl who somehow found a way to sing in an American accent... About wishing she could pash some guy who tastes like strawberries. Everybody loved in in primary school (even I admittedly bought the CD - how embarrassing) and I thought I hate-hated it until I heard it again last night. It's so corny (and kinda bogan-y) that it makes me want to dance like Brittany Spears. And the film clip is very 2001 and therefore cool. Nikki Webster is [was] AWESOME!!

3.Livin La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin

My first loves were Greg Wiggle, the guy with trumpet in the Hooley Dooleys and Ricky Martin. I loved Ricky Martin. I had his CD, I new his songs, and I loved him. Sure, the words I sang ( and most of the words he sang, I'm sure) didn't exist but I sang them none the less. And man he can dance... Even though this song is so hideously bad - and I know it - I like it.

I still love Ricky Martin.

2. Hello - Lionel Ritchie

"Hello? Is it me you're looking for?" No, she's blind. Seriously, a creepy guy stalking a blind girl that does stuff with clay (who is also his STUDENT). It's very stalker-y. To understand the full Lionel Ritchie scariness, you have to read the lyrics and watch the clip. Why do I like it? It's an awesome song to belt out in the middle of nothingness - until it gets stuck in your head for a week - and I don't mind a bit of friendly stalking :).

1. The Cheeky Song (Touch My Bum) - The Cheeky Girls

I only first heard this last night and i fucking love it. They're Romanian twins in short-shorts singing about their butts - how much more hilariously sweet can you get? YouTube it, you will thank me. And then watch their Christmas song, "Cheeky Christmas" - Fun. For. Hours.

the birthday

Hello kidlets! I thought I'd use the excuse of another birthday gone to tell you all what I did on both my actual birthday and the day after. I promise it's hilariously depressing.

Very early Friday morning.
After failing to sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time due to an apparent illness, I wake up - two hours and 32 minutes into my 16 birthday - and quickly rush to the bathroom so I can vomit up everything I ate the day before (which was 1/4 of a sandwich and a million litres of water). I then realised that when I thought the day before that I couldn't get any sicker, I was wrong. I then spend 30 minutes cleaning while making sure my father didn't wake up before returning to my tissue filled room and failing to sleep once again.


6am Friday morning.
I was lying in bed watching the Today show. I thought I was better compared to my nighttime experience and I was adamant on going to school on my 16th birthday. My father told me that if I went to school - I was an idiot. I still wanted to go. I started getting ready a whole hour before I usually do with a slightly runny nose and a voice like a pubescent male. I then began to feel ill. i almost faint, I want to vomit. I continue getting prepared like a moron.

7:37 Friday morning.
My father calls from work and can't believe that I got ready for school. He once again ells me that I shouldn't go to school. He told me that I looked like crap and I'll end up vomiting on someone or passing out at school - not very attractive. I begin to cry and tell him how much I wanted to go. We finish or conversation and I begin to make my way to the lounge. I blackout before I make it. I decide it's probably a good idea to stay home. And to stay close to the ground.

Friday Day.
I spend the day failing to sleep and watching particularly boring TV. I then miss skitHOUSE on Comedy Channel and then miss it again when it's repeated two hours later. I didn't get to see my father on my birthday. I travel to my mother's.

Friday Night.
While talking to Bridget - just after I tell her that I'm feeling a little better - I, once again, throw up. I then try to do the driving test over the internet as I am booked in to do the actual test the following day. I fail twice. I hadn't failed the test since I had first tried it in the previous August. I begin to get frustrated as all I've wanted for the past few weeks was to spend my extended weekend driving. I then sleep.

Saturday morning.
After a surprisingly good nights sleep, I wake up early to go to the RTA. I eat breakfast - which is unusual for me and I try to make my sickly face look decent. My mother then drives me to the RTA for my 9:30am booking.

9:00 Saturday morning.
We are early for my booked test. We wait in line, receive a ticket and are called to the counter.
My mother explains our situation to the counter lady and hand her my forms and birth certificate. She then looks at us confused and tells us that everyone that had booked a test for this particular day were called and told that the computer connection to the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages was offline and they could not validate any birth certificates. I was told that I would have to wait a further three days to receive my license. I am very pissed at the counter lady and consider stabbing her with on the the pens on a counter behind me even though i know they are connected to the desk via chain and would not reach her. I leave the RTA - disappointed and devastated.

Midday, Saturday.
My mother and I drive my sister to her friends place. While she is inside speaking with the child's parents, I am in the car coughing. When she returns to the car I inform her that I am having difficulty breathing. I begin to panic and cry and we drive to the hospital.

1:30 Saturday.
We arrive at the hospital and tell the triage nurse what is wrong, she takes my blood pressure and temperature and sends me to the emergency ward. She tells a nurse that I am tachycardic and the other nurse puts one of those pulse things on my finger. She says that my heart rate is apparently quite high. She give me an oxygen mask and some pain killers as I wait for the doctor. The doctor asks me questions and says it may be a chest infection or just the common flu. he put an intravenous needle in my hand and tries to take some blood. He cannot get much blood out of my vein so he goes to the other arm and tries in the usual blood taking area. He cannot get my vein after a lot of poking so he gives up and tries to use the little blood he had already obtained. The nurse then returns to hook up a drip. I sit there for a very long time before I am taken to get an x-ray of my lungs. I lay on a bed in a hallway for ages before the guy with the moustache takes me into the actual room. I get the x-ray and return the the hallway to once again wait. By this time, I am beginning to run out of signs to read ans thus becoming bored. I finally go back the the emergency room and am hooked back up to the drip to wait for my blood and x-ray results. And hour and a bit passes and the doctor returns to tell me it is the common flu. I then wait further minutes until the intravenous is taken out of my hand.

I then go home, 3 hours later, still sick and still without a license.

What a wondiferous birthday.
Goodnight.

the justification

My sister has said a lot of things to me. But nothing she's said has ever effected me like what she said Saturday night. I mad a comment about her hair. She went insane. She called me fat, ugly, told me I was emo and never change the way I look. My hairs always the same and my clothes are ugly.

She told me I'd be alone for the rest of my life.

Everything I've ever felt, done or cried about can be originated to that idea.

That I'm alone.

That's what hit me. I went to my room and bawled. I've never cried that hard. I've known that I've been alone for a long time, but that's nothing like being told that you'll be alone.

Mum saw me. That's the embarrassing part. She saw me and realised that Grace isn't the fucked up one who needs people to defend her. That's the problem. Now she knows. Now she'll look at me with that patronising look that tells you she feels sorry for you.

I either feel alone or smothered. Or the happiest person in the world. I'm two different people. And I know that something is wrong with me.

The reason I don't do homework, why I've got a different excuse everyday, is because when I'm down I don't feel like doing anything. Homework, seeing people, going places. Going to school.
I'm not me. I won't even listen to music or watch tv because I feel like I should be punishing myself, like it's my job to not be happy. I've already lost a job, I've almost lost school. I'm so behind I'm getting stressed. So stressed that I think I'm sick. I stay home. I don't want to see people and I really don't want them to see me.

I'm alone. I told my mother I wanted to go to a counsellor. There have been too many times that I've looked at my wrists and wondered what would happen.

the lemonade

I just need to say one thing...

I HAVE A FOURTH FOLLOWER!!!!!!

How awesome am I?

That's right. Awesome.

the book

Before I get to my relevant and truly hilarious anecdote, is there any polite way to call someone a prostitute? I quite like 'ladies of the night', sounds all mysterious-like and Girlfriend Magazine said that was sexy. Anyway, on with the circus...(that phrase is so going to catch on)

We were given a book to read a while ago for Advanced English (that's right, I'm in Advance - just like the money you give a prostitute). The book was Looking for Alibrandi, and because I'm not a real reader - it's not that I don't like reading, just that a lot of fiction books that I try to read bore me within the first chapter - I was reluctant to read it. Reading the first 30-something pages didn't help either, kind of felt like the author (Melina Marchetta, Melina Marchetta, Melina...) was dumbing it down a bit for me...

(must remember Melina Marchetta...Mrs Mack told me to. I might fail English...)

So, I just skimmed through a bit, got the point of it an moved on. But as we started discussing it in class, I actually wanted to read it.

So I did, last night, all of it.

And it made me cry.

Serious bawling my eyes out until my stomach hurt crying.

Thank Cupcakes I was home alone...

So, if anyone has a really good book that'll do that to me, let me know.

No pretentious bullshit either.
She says, writing a blog...

I'm aware of how boring this post is.
Good afternoon.

the bird factor

3rd & Bird;
This is now my new favourite little kiddie show (ie, preschoolers) EVER.
It's so adorable. Don't ask me why I was watching CBeebies - basically an entire channel for preschool-aged shows - but I do recommend, if you have the channel (not sure what pack-thing it is) type in 705 now. Right now. And enjoy :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oDbe8-x3naw&feature=related


Blogger won't let me embed the video or, more annoyingly, copy and paste the address. So if the link doesn't work - search '3rd & bird muffin song' - should be the first one.

Goodnight.

the worth

I was planning all day to write a happy blog this afternoon. Unfortunately, or fortunately - my depressing rambling seems to be slightly more entertaining, my plan started to go down hill in biology in 2nd period.



I began the day overly happy, the result of three and a half hours sleep which was the result of feeling overly happy and giddy in the first place. Then everything started falling. I felt like I was sinking. I've been actually rather happy lately for a long period of time. Strange, really, not that I'm complaining.

I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that it all fell down as suddenly as it did.

In the space of about 5 minutes I went from being the happiest person in the room to the one who shouldn't even be counted as one in the room. I make no difference, I make no impression. I started over analysing things. Mainly the fact that I'd been 'flagged' by my tutor group teacher for having 6 days absent already. That's the way I know how to deal with stress. I regrettably started doing it in year 6 when my dad seemed to hate me, my teacher absolutely loathed me and my friends didn't really mind that I wasn't there. Again, I make no difference.

One thing that is different. Well, not so much different as a reoccurring nightmare.

I feel lonely.

Just very lonely.

I don't really have that person anymore. The one who people automatically think of when they hear your name, the friend who, no matter whoever else was around - would always choose you first.

I haven't had that for a while.

I don't really have anyone to cry on the phone to. And although that sounds dramatic - I did it a lot.

They just lost interest.

Everyone loses interest. Because I'm just not that interesting. I'm replaceable. I'm worthless, hopeless and I'll never make a difference to someones life.

I've never said it straight out on this blog before. But as it seems no-one reads it anyway.

I don't want to be here. Here or anywhere.

If you are reading this, I don't need a shoulder. I don't want people offering to listen. Because the fact is: I don't trust you. You'll leave me at some point. The novelty will wear off, you'll lose interest.

Or I'll end up doing something horrible, and you'll use it against me in a fight.

It's inevitable. I like being alone too much, but want someone there just in case. I'm a horrible person. I let people down, I get what I deserve.

There's one person I'll trust enough to talk to. But that will make me a hypocrite, and I'll let him down too.

I'm sorry for wasting your time.

Goodnight.