Monday, September 14, 2009

I love fireworks!

I would like to share with you, dear reader, some personal texts that were exchanged between Allison and I on Saturday night.

We were both out. And both, shall we say, intoxicated.

A: I just heard Come On Eileen
K: I just did karaoke to Wonderwall. I’m like the Liam of Awesome.
A: Does that make me Noel? I am NOT cool with that!
K: You are SO Noel.
A: Well in that case...Fuck you, you stupid asshole.
K: I’m going to marry a wanker and break up the band.
A: Fine then. I’m going to quit, tour several times around the globe and then quit again.
K: Ha Ha ha.

What I’m wishing to illustrate to you, my friends, is that our awesomeness is not just limited to this site.
We are 100% awesome, 100% of the time.
Although perhaps the most surprising part of the exchange is we managed to spell things correctly and be at least somewhat coherent, which is surprisingly difficult on iPhones when drunk.

HOWEVER, Saturday night also served to further compound a fundamental belief I hold that really helps define my life:
Saturday night was ‘Riverfire’. It’s the commencement of the Brisbane Festival and basically a massive fuck-off fireworks show over the river and city.
As well as about 40,000 fireworks (literally), the F1-11s fly over and do a ‘dump and burn’, which is every bit as cool as it sounds. You kinda see the trail from it in the photo below - obviously it looks nothing like this in real ife, but hey. It's a cool photo.

So there I was on Saturday night, watching the fireworks from the balcony of the Treasury Casino. Sure, I’m 25, but goddamnit I LOVE FIREWORKS. Fireworks = happiness. I have absolutely no doubt that on Saturday night I looked a bit like somebody’s ‘special’ friend, just standing there, drink in hand with a massive grin on my face, watching fireworks. I think we’ve spoken before about the simple pleasures in life. And fireworks, to me, are an excellent example of one of these pleasures.

But then ‘Bitchface’, as I have dubbed her, rocked up.
Standing behind me was this woman. She was, it must be said, A GIGANTIC TOOL.
The WHOLE time she whined:
“Omigod, is this it? Is this what Brisbane gets so excited about? I can’t believe it’s just a whole bunch of fireworks. I thought it would be so much more, I can’t believe how lame this is”.

It took EVERY OUNCE OF STRENGTH I HAD not to turn around and smack her stupid face. Even the guy she was with seemed a little embarrassed by her. And rightly so.
Seriously, who thinks they are too good for fireworks?! They’re pretty, they’re sparkly and shiny. All the things I like.

It was blatantly obvious she was a Melbourne/Sydney-sider and thought ‘Hang on, there’s no way I can allow myself any pleasure in Brisbane, or allow myself to think that any part of Brisbane is okay.’
Well, love, here’s what I’ve got to say on behalf of Brisbane: FUCK YOU. And your little dog, too. She didn’t actually have a little dog with her, but she’s the kind of person that would have one. And carry it in a purse and make it wear clothes.

Much of the time I was watching the fireworks, I was debating whether to say something. Of course, as Kate, my role in life is to be confrontational and not let people have opinions different to mine. So in the end I ended up with
“God, it must be SO depressing to be you. Oh, and you’re kind of fat.”
Immature. Yes.
Satisfying. INCREDIBLY.
And I walked away, leaving her there with this shocked look on her face, without the quick-wittedness to reply.

Fireworks and Brisbane: 1
Dumb Bitch: 0

So, that stupid bitch?

Remembering how bitchy you could be in high school and doing it to a complete stranger 10 years later because they were annoying you?


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