i cry when animals win bravery awards.i was an avon lady in high school. i was forced into this job by my mother and sister. i would often carry a football so i felt more comfortable. after about a year i was accused of embezzling money and am now restricted from ever selling avon again.when i was in primary school we had a nun who taught us. sometimes she let us make pancakes. especially on pancake tuesday. she also let us watch the animated version of charlottes web when it was raining. her name was sister martina. i used to sing to her. i would sing to sister martina. i sung her name 'sister martina' to the tune of 'mr dobalina mister bob dobalina'. 'sister martina sister mar martina'.when i was 19 i won $7500 because i picked the trifecta for the melbourne cup. i bought a van and travelled from sydney to perth and back again. i picked up some hitchers. two of which were swedish guys. i saw their ball sacks.my best friend and i were was once in a fashion parade in which we were scantily clad in lacy underwear while enthusiastically doing the macarena.im so socially awkward that if i like you it means i will not be able to make eye contact with you.when i was growing up my best friend's family ran two businesses. a knackery and dog kennels. these businesses were a perfect marriage of death and hunger. as i spent every possible moment at my best friends side i was enslaved as her companion in household and business chores. when we would have parties we would have to steal her dad's beers from the massive fridge in the knackery. this involved weaving our way through headless skinned horse corpses which were hung from gargantuan hooks from the ceiling. beer never tasted so good as when it was earnt this way.when slaving at the dog kennels we had to mix the food. i would trek across a paddock that was filled with angry geese and cancerous untamed hysterical horses that would follow and often proposition me with an option of trampling. after crossing the paddock i would retrieve the delicious horse meat from the knackery. on my return journey the (live) horses, not always polite, would chase me in an attempt to eat the meat. this is where my innate fear of horses comes from. i like the concept of a large unpredictable threatening dog but in reality it doesn't mesh with my trauma.i was once in a fashion parade in my very small town for a saddlery in which i got to dress up in equestrian gear. i whipped my bottom on the stage. i was 14. there was outrage.we would mix the dogs food with our bare hands. bare. skin on what was once skin. dry dog food, horse meat and water. i would take off my jewellery - which, at the time, was a superman ring that was my boyfriends. schwing. i didn't want the veins to get stuck under my nails. fusspot.i fantasise about punching walls but never actually do it.my mum once ran for a local election. this is when i was 8. i made my own campaign material. it said things like 'vote for my mum because i love her'. i was happily used as a pawn. an ugly freckly bucktoothed pawn. at the time she wore very large earrings. it was the eighties. she also really likes ken done. i used to think that pointing to a ken done calendar and saying 'ken done done dat' was very very funny. i plagiarised ken done in an art competition which i won in year 3.when i was 11, i was on crutches cos i had a bung leg. i went to a dance in the brownie hall next to my house. i wore a black taffeta dress that had a lot of lace involved. my hair was teased AND crimped. snap. madonna's 'express yourself' came on and i got sent home because my dancing was too sexually explicit.i dream about chasing bag snatchers.one year for netball we wanted our team name to be FIGJAMS (fuck im good just ask me). this is in year 6. we thought we were hardcore tuff and we were. we were undefeated. ask anyone. we were the shit. fuck everyone. yeah fuck youse all. i don't need you. i play centre. i don't need none of your shit. have you seen my trophies? HAVE YOU? nah, you better walk on punk. retreat.anyway, our coach - lynette, i curse you - deemed FIGJAM too offensive so instead they named us 'the wizzywigs'. the shame. you don’t get respekt and fear when your name has 'wizzy’ in it. can you imagine the revolt? i was bustin caps in arses. i was like, "fuck the albion park gallahs, i'm taking my patch off my skirt". and my homes amy was all like, "anna it's not worth it - take the high road". fuck that.after netball on saturdays my best friend amy and i used to work at the rifle range. true. we would hike 2 kilometres in our netball uniforms and scungies - pink and grey the colour of gallahs - up a mountain. in summer it would be over 40degrees. in winter it would be something like, cold. once there, water was considered a luxury. we did have a radio which picked up AM and we got to use walkie talkies for real. toilets were for princesses. then for about 5 hours we would sit in a dug out trench and lift 50 kilo rifle targets which were the size of a double bed. i like to refer to this period as the ditch bitch era. the adults at the bottom of the mountain would then shoot at the targets which were about 2 metres above our heads. we'd score their shots and eat cheesy tubes and drink warm fizzy drink - usually passiona because it was amy's favourite. we never got my favourite. and i still hurt.we got paid, in total, for both us, $20.we were forced to listen to john farnham because it was the only tape that would work. 'age of reason' - never hit home so hard.i like it when babies perk because it means they have been fed. silver lining.sometimes i pretend that i am the host of a tv show. like when i do the washing up, i narrate what im doing, in a directional way so that others can learn from me.i don't like being able to hear other people eating.after viciously avoiding eye contact with my girlfriend, who wasn't my girlfriend at the time, for months we got together because i accidentally full body groped her at the sly fox and then weeks later fell off my bike in front of her in a spectacular robotic fragmented fashion. assault and pity was my formula. score.she knows i am never allowed to sell avon again. she knows it means we have a restricted future which can not involve avon. she knows that my sister currently sells nutrimetics. but she would still prefer to be with me. i think its because of the trophies.
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