A Beautiful PAIN-ting

What's light blue and hazy green and rosy pink and bright red and deep purple, all swirled into one?

Is it:

A) The Northern Lights?

B) My tie-dye shirt?

The answer is neither. If I ask you a question and give you multiple choice answers, you will never get it right because I will always add another answer, that is to say,

C) My bruises on my knees, from failing my Sex and The City audition.

Okay, not literally.

But have you seen that show? Sarah Jessica Parker in it, she wears flippin' four-inch high heels and runs along the street trying to hail a taxi. I swear, her feet must be genetically fused into those things, the way she runs with them so naturally.

So, being the idiot-stupid-dumbo-airhead-and basically all the bad names I called myself when I got my bruises, I decided, hey! Why don't I try that?

Why not, indeed.

So I got myself into some high heels. Walked around, for a while, enjoying my extra four inches. (When you're only four feet and a bit, that's a BIG deal. Geddit? Big?)

Then I decided to run.

BAM, slip, fall on both knees, and somehow on the left side of my butt at the same time. I don't even know HOW that's possible. I have bones, you know, and yet my butt managed to suddenly become flexible and hit the floor.

Nice.

So I hobbled back inside and decided to lick my wounds. I figured they'd be purple, like usual.

But maybe having an extra four inches when you fall does something to your blood vessels, because now they're all pink and green and blue too.

Weirdly beautiful, actually.

So nice I actually made a painting of my bruises. A PAIN-ting.

And if you don't think THAT's a weird sentence, maybe you should read it again.

And the worst part? My sister walked in on me peering at my knees and painting.

Oh, sure, let's just make fun at your sister when she's fallen on both her knees and the left side of her butt at the SAME time.

Scientifically, bruises sound a lot worse.

I mean, instead of just saying, "My knees and butt are bruised," scientists say stuff like, "My capillaries and venules have been traumatised, allowing blood to spread into the extracellular space. Did I mention that they are on the kneeus leggus* and on the left side of my buttus?"

Actually, I think I wanna try talking like that. Sounds fun.

Later,

A beautifully bruised Random Awesome



*Of course, I don't know what the PROPER latin name for knee is, but it sure is fun saying it!

A Punch in the Stomach

Random Awesome, that's me.

Am I tough? I once ate a whole chocolate bar in twenty seconds.

Am I hardcore? I laugh at Puck from Glee.

Am I strong? I watched My Sister's Keeper without shedding a tear.

Did seven random words from a complete stranger make me feel like I'd been punched in the stomach?

HELL, YEAH.

Here's how it happened.

The exams were last week, so everyone was running around saying, "I bombed that last history test SO badly," and "I'm going to die."

Nothing new there.

So I was walking along the corridors, when this girl barges past me, yelling, "AWESOME! I'll go tell my best friend!"

Whoof.

That was the sound of the breath leaving my body all at once. And no, I was not the Big Bad Wolf blowing down the piggie's house.

It was just that I realized that I didn't have a best friend anymore.

They used to be Marsh and Naddo and Larry, but they were all gone now. (Oops. I think I forgot to mention that Larry left school. We still keep in touch though).

I mean, sure, you can give all that crap about being friends forever, and long-distance friendships, but in the end, give 'em three years and they won't remember your name. They'll have new best friends. New classes. New teachers. New habits. A freaking new life.

So in Science I drew up a list of possible best friends. (And I was still totally paying attention, mind you).

• Marsh. (She moved away to Qatar. Nope.)
• Naddo. (Ditto).
• Larry (Yep).
• Logan Lerman (He doesn't even know I exist.)
• Angelina Jolie (Why the hell did I even put her name?)
• My cats, Ben and Jamie (I love them... but they're freakin' cats).
• Inanimate objects (they seem the most likely now.)
  
• My English teacher. And this shows just how desperate I was for a friend. Although, to be fair, she IS quite nice. And I know Ryan Seacrest.
  

It was hopeless.

Sorry, that came out wrong.

It still IS hopeless.

Anyone out there who wants to be my friend, drop me a line. If you aren't interested, then can you at least:

• Get me Logan Lerman's phone number.
• Get me a ticket to Qatar.
• Sneak me into Angelina Jolie's brood and kick one out, like maybe Shiloh. I could totally be the next Shiloh.
• Get me to talk to cats.
• Stop me from becoming totally insane, NOW.
  

Random Awesome

Just Your Average Picnic in An Abandoned House with A Stray Cat for Company

Agent R.A, signing in.

Today's mission? Sneak into abandoned, possibly haunted house, and have a picnic, of all things.

Dressed in: A black shirt, black pants, and a dark blue windbreaker. Not because it was cold, or anything - actually it was pretty warm - but because I felt that it was more... sneaky-ish. Slippers. Backpack.

Backpack filled with:

• Bag of roast nuts, 1
• Bottle of water, 1
• Bar of chocolate, 1
• Handful of fish crackers for Mango
• Flashlight, 1
• Butter knife, 1
  
• NO anti-zombie-ant spray, sadly

(Oh, wait. I guess I should explain the butter knife thing. It's like this. Being 30 kilos and scrawny, I figured that for any kidnapper lying in wait, I was easy pickings. So it was time to use brains over brawn. My Butter Knife Theory worked roughly like this: Some guy tries to kidnap me. I whip out my butter knife. He laughs, and says, "You gonna spread me with butter, kid?" I answer, "Yeah, the butter tin's behind ya!" He turns. I run. I am smart.)

I was ready to hit the road, folks. Of course, I still had no defence against ghosts but Mango. The cat was so hideous I figured he would scare any ghost we met. Either that, or he was so hideous the ghosts would want him to join them. Either way, I was cool.

I picked up Mango along the way and slipped inside.

It was exactly the same as it was last week: quiet, dusty and empty, except for where - oops - I had left dirty footprints. Oh well. Zombie ants wouldn't mind.

Okay, I thought, you can do this. Conquer your fear.

Turns out, big surprise, that I couldn't.

Y'see, I had envisioned me boldly sitting in the middle of the house, eating my picnic with bravado and pride, unafraid of anything.

The reality? I was hunched near the door, my foot firmly in the crack. What if the door blew shut? I would be trapped. Chocolate and nuts wouldn't get me very far. Then my only source of food would be Mango, and truthfully, I'd put my money on the cat.

I hastily stuffed my chocolate and nuts in my mouth, swallowed almost without chewing, tossed Mango the fish crackers and fled.

So the important thing is, I tried. I really did. I tried conquering my fear.

Tried being the operative word, of course.

Later,

Random Awesome

I Just Found THE MOST Awesome Hideout!

People, it's me, Random Awesome!

I'm way too excited to bandy words right now, so I'm just going to say -

I've always loved wandering the back alleys around my neighbourhood. Not at night, of course - but in the evening, when everyone's at the park, I slip to the alleys and spend a happy half hour there. When I was small, I liked looking for treasure: tinfoil, red glass, the occasional penny, you know. Now I'm bigger, well, I STILL like looking for treasure, but of a different sort. You know. Soccer balls people have kicked over ages ago and were too scared to reclaim. That kind of thing.

The alleys can be a little creepy, I'll admit, but I'm smart. I keep the dried leaves behind me at all times. If someone's coming, then I'll be able to hear them.

Besides, there are always some maids taking in the washing or stacking up the dishes, and we wave hello. Friendly alleys.

Not to mention stray cats.

I should probably mention Mango here, seeing as he was with me when I discovered the awesome hideout.

Mango is the most hideous cat in all existence. Typical that he chose to team up with me. Birds of a feather flock together, which would imply that I am hideous too. Great.

Ginger, lean, scarred pelt, one fang sticking out, wonky ear, one eye, crooked tail, rasping meow, tendency to bite. I don't have a picture of him - the camera would explode if I pointed it in his direction - so I'll post some other pics of other cats.

I found him ages ago, and one scratch of his ears and a tin of tuna later, we were great friends. He's my alley-wandering companion. I originally called him Mangy, but it seemed kinda mean, so I replaced the y with an o, and it seemed much better. It fits, too - his fur is yellowy-orange.

Whenever I am walking backstreet, Mango, who somehow seems to know where am and what I have in my pocket, appears and yowls loudly for food.

I give it to him.

Love.

So yesterday, I was just wandering around, kicking a pebble, when I noticed two things.

The first was that I was behind the empty house in the neighbourhood.

The second was that although the little back gate had a lock, it wasn't LOCKED, if you know what I mean. It was just hanging there.

So what else was I supposed to do?

I opened the gate and sneaked in.

Whoa.

It was awesome. A whole HOUSE, just for me... and Mango, I guess.

Brilliant as it was - a hideout! - it was kinda creepy too. I mean, great, empty, echoing rooms, covered in dust.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't that fussed about ghosts. As far as I knew, my neighbourhood was relatively new, and nobody had DIED in this house. So, it couldn't be haunted.

But as I stood there, watching the dust motes in the light, I sarted to get a little freaked out.

I mean, sure, there might be no HUMAN ghosts. But I was sure there were plenty of ants that had died here.

A horde of zombie ants nipping my ankles was too unbearable to contemplate.

Plus, they wouldn't die if I stepped on them, now, would they?

So I hightailed out of there as fast as I could, making a promise to come back and conquer my fear of zombie ants.

A perfectly reasonable fear.

But I'm not going to let my fear conquer me. I mean, a whole HOUSE is sitting there, just waiting for me to go in and use it as a hideout.

I'll come back tomorrow, armed with socks and a bottle of insect repellent.

Tuning in later, (unless I die first, of course)

Random Awesome