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Dear Aunt Know It All:
I am the victim of an oppressive regime (otherwise known as my parents). They're going away for three weeks in November and even though I've been seventeen (17!!!!!) for over a month, they refuse to let me stay home on my own. I thought it must be because they'd read about all those parties that get advertised online and then all these strangers turn up and trash the house, but they said no (until I opened my big mouth, they hadn't even heard about that) - they just don't think I could cope by myself. They said, 'Remember the time the washing machine flooded, and you ran out of the house and went shopping?' I did point out that that was LAST YEAR, but they wouldn't be swayed. How can I convince them that I've matured since The Great Flood and that they're seriously wrong?
Older and Wiser
Dear O&W:
You Are Not Alone!!! I am like tres older than you and yet I, too, have suffered as you suffer. Just this summer the parents who rule this house the way Stalin ruled Russia took themselves off on a bike trip to Cornwall for an entire month. [Don't even ask why they didn't go to Greece or Spain like everybody else. It's a v long story!] Obviously, I was overjoyed when I she told me! My brother's gone off somewhere poor and depressing again, so it meant I'd have the flat to myself for four glorious weeks. I was mentally starting to make my plans when my mother said, "You can stay at Nan's while we're gone." I, like you, protested. I said it was totally unreasonable to expect a UNIVERSITY STUDENT to stay with her grandmother while her parents are away. I said it was insulting, humiliating and out of the question!!! She said there was no choice as Sappho and Mags are away and I couldn't stay with my father because his girlfriend doesn't like me (this is not only not personal, since the Step Monster doesn't like anyone, it's completely mutual). I said that was precisely why I should stay at home. BY MYSELF. We negotiated for several days, and when I really started to wear her down she came up with the Are You Really Ready to Live on Your Own? Test. Perhaps if you do better on it than I did your parents will change their minds.
Are You Really Ready to Live on Your Own?
THE TEST
1. How often should you change your sheets? A. Once a week. B. When you spill a bottle of cola on them. C. Never. Your mother will be home soon and she can do it.
2. How much does packet of tea cost? A. A quid. B. More than a quid. C. It doesn't matter because there's enough in the cupboard to last till your mother gets back.
3. What should you do if you lose your credit card? A. Borrow someone else's. B. Cancel the card immediately. C. Ring your mother.
4. What should you do if you lock yourself out of the house? A. Break in [NB. This works better if you've got a garden or if your brother once showed you how to jimmy the lock and you haven't lost your credit card]. B. Go next door and get the spare set you were smart enough to leave there. C. Ring your mother.
5. How long will a bowl of leftover curry last in the fridge? A. No more than three days, tops. B. No more than a week. C. Until your mother comes home and gets rid of it.
6. You've been given enough grocery money for the next month. You start to run low in Week Two. What do you do? A. If you haven't lost your credit card, it's a no-brainer. B. Work out a sensible budget and master cooking rice and beans and baking your own bread. C. Ring your mother.
7. How do you boil an egg? A. In water. B. Don't bother, they never come out right. C. Ring your mother.
8. Something goes horribly wrong with the plumbing and the bathroom tap won't turn off. What's the first thing you do? A. Get a bucket. B. Turn it off at the mains. C. Ring your mother.
9. You're in the middle of watching your favourite program when the telly goes dead. What's the first thing you do? A. Go next door. B. Check the fuse. C. Ring your mother.
10. You're rummaging through the pile of things that has built up on the kitchen table over the last week or two when you come upon the stack of bills you were meant to post at the start of your parents' holiday. You: A. Pretend you didn't find it. B. Grab them and race to the nearest post box (hopefully remembering both to stamp them and take your keys). C. Ring your mother.
[NB: C is NOT always the answer!]
Dear Aunt K:
My parents are pretty homophobic. So when they heard that the President of Iran said there aren't any homosexuals in Iran, they said it proved that people aren't born gay, they choose to be gay. I know they're wrong, but I found it impossible to argue with them. What do you think?
Outmanoeuvred by a Holocaust Denier
Dear Outmanoeuvred:
Your signature says it all, doesn't it? I mean, a man who denies that the Holocaust ever happened isn't exactly a reliable source of information, is he? And even if it were true that there aren't any gay people in Iran (which it ISN'T), it wouldn't be because nobody in Iran is gay, it would be because the government had killed them all.
Dear AKIA:
Everybody's always banging on about how everybody's becoming obese, even our cats, and how if you eat fast food and don't exercise you're going to have a heart attack or end up so fat you can't walk any more, but I just read that SIX out of TEN people say that even if they knew for certain they were going to die they wouldn't exercise or eat proper food. And there is that couple in Sussex who's been eating a double hamburger and a large fries in McDonald's for the last seventeen years. Obviously, it hasn't done them any harm. I mean, all this hysterical talk could just be another example of a conspiracy to trick people into thinking one thing's happening when it's really something else (you know, like the Americans never really landed on the moon and the world is really ruled by shape-changing reptiles - that sort of thing). So what I want to know is: do you think that those SIX out of TEN people know A TRUTH the rest of us don't know?
I'd Rather Have a Triple-Cheese Pizza (the sort with cheese in the crust) than Spinach
Dear Pizza Lover:
No.
Dear Aunt Know-It-All:
I'm just not very attractive. I mean, I'm all right - I'm not grossly ugly or anything like that (Thank God! What would I do if I was a leper?!!!) - but I'd wager Scarlett Johansen doesn't lie awake at night worrying about the competition from me. I've tried everything. Waxes, massages, facials, steam cleaning, and every style the hairdresser from It's a Snip can copy from Cosmo. (I even changed the colour so much my hair went GREEN!). BUT ALL TO NO AVAIL!! I still haven't had a date. At this rate, I'm never going to have a boyfriend. Twenty years from now, I'll still be watching telly with the dog and arguing with my mum about whose turn it is to do the dishes. IS THERE NOTHING I CAN DO besides stay indoors?
Couldn't Get Pulled if I Was the Cap on the Last Bottle of Coke in the House.
Dear Last Cap:
Some poet once said that Beauty is in the eye of the beholder - and in this case that means YOU. It doesn't matter if you've been waxed more than the floors of Buckingham Palace and could have fed half the starving children in the world with what you've spent of make-up and beauty treatments, if you don't think you look good, then that's the image you project. And vice versa, of course. For example, there's a girl in my school whose looks are tres average by ANYONE'S standards - except HERS. She swans around like she thinks she makes Penelope Cruz look plain. And you know what? As insane as this sounds, IT WORKS. Even though if you really look at her you can see that she's got the jaw of a moose and that her eyes are too small, the boys all go into meltdown if she just tosses her hair or bats a false eyelash (which would be the only thing she does have in common with Ms Cruz). I've even heard female people say how attractive this girl is. So my advice to you is to get out there and get a life. You DEFINITELY can't stay in the house. I once bunked school for a week because of a bad haircut. [This would be before it dawned on me that there are WAY WORSE things than a bad haircut - like death and baldness, to name only two!) Anyway, bunking school only made things worse, since I watched videos all day and snacked so much that I gained two kilos! So when I was finally forced back to the institution (my mother doesn't let you stay home more than a week unless you're in intensive care) I not only still had the bad haircut, my jeans were so tight that my best friend had to come home with me every afternoon to pull them off me.
Dear Aunt Know-It-All:
It's not just ME. Everybody says that I'm ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS. All my mates really envy me. All I have to do is just smile at a boy and he's ready to lug a jumbo jet over the Himalayas if I ask him to. Heads turn when I walk down the road. I know that this doesn't seem like much of a problem, but believe me it is. I've got blokes queuing up to go out with me - but it isn't ME they're interested in, is it? It's my flawless face and fantastic body. I feel that I'm just an ornament - you know like a fancy car or a Harley Davidson. How can I ever believe anyone who tells me he loves me?
Cursed by Beauty
Dear Cursed:
I don't want to sound unsympathetic, but I think most of us would rather have the curse you've got that the other kind - you know, being hideously ugly or with the figure of a post box. At least you get out of the house. On the other hand, I can tell from the tear stains on your letter that your suffering is sincere. It's like being a multi-millionaire, isn't it? How could you ever be sure that you were loved for your fondness for starfish and your ability to whistle Beethoven's Fifth, and not all your dosh? You couldn't. Even if you're not one of those über-celebrity millionaire types who has nothing going for her but money (you know, no looks, no brains and a really crumby personality), the dosh is still part of who the billionaire is, just like being sickeningly gorgeous is part of who you are. Besides, it's not like being loved FOR YOURSELF is all it's cracked up to be either. My dad married my mother because he loved HER (it certainly wasn't for her looks!), and what happened? He had an affair with Mrs Kennedy across the road, that's what happened. If I were you I'd be grateful I wasn't born with the nose of an anteater (knowing that no matter how WONDERFUL you are inside no one's going to take you clubbing) and stop moaning.
Dear Aunt K:
My mum says that just because I'm fifteen and have never had a boyfriend doesn't mean that I'll NEVER have one. She says that's there someone for everyone. Do you think this is true?
Unwanted So Far
Dear Unwanted:
There's a certain amount of evidence to support your mum's opinion. One of which is my mother. If you met her you'd know how unlikely it ever was that ONE man would find her attractive enough to want to watch her clip her toenails in bed; and how even more unlikely it was that this same man (knowing how grouchy she is and how she clips her toenails in bed) would then want to move in with her. But it happened! Twice!!!! I'd take this as a sign of HOPE.
Dear Aunt K:
My mother is being even more unreasonable than usual. She went off on one the other day and actually took the lock off the bathroom door! She made a sign that says Occupied on one side and Vacant on the other so you can let everyone know when you're in there. And once someone's knocked to say you have to HURRY UP I've got FIVE MINUTES to get out. (They really do go insane, don't they?) She can't be serious. Like I'd trust my brother not to flip the sign round or even WALK IN THE BATHROOM ON ME! I went to school with only one eye done today because I was rushing to put my make-up on before someone barged in. I'm afraid to take a bath. And you can forget waxing my legs or anything else that takes a bit of time and concentration. I might as well be living on the street (I'm certainly going to smell like I live on the street before long)! I'll have to drop out of school if this keeps up. What can I do?
Standards of Personal Hygiene Down the Spout
Dear Down the Spout:
I feel for you, I really do!!! You don't say why your mother went mental, but I reckon I can guess. The Mad Cow once tried something similar with me just because I was in the bathroom for a couple of hours (It's not that I'm unsympathetic to the plight of someone who needs to use the loo because I once had to pee in an empty pickle jar I was that desperate, but I defy ANYONE but my mother to get ready for a party in less time). She actually started to take the door off its hinges. I nearly went into CARDIAC ARREST!!! To make sure that never happened again, whenever I thought I might be more than ten minutes I barricaded the door. A truce was declared when I lugged the telly and the armchair from the living room in with me. Try it. It works!
Dear Aunt K:
I've had more detentions for lateness than Apple Mac has computers. This is because even though I get up AT SIX so I have time to get ready for school it's never enough. I've tried picking what I'm going to wear the night before, but then if it started raining in the night or some disaster like that I had to make adjustments. For a while I was planning outfits by the week (with alternates for bad weather), but that took me so long that I never got any homework done so I got detentions for that. The problem is that I just never know what I'm in the mood to wear until I put something on and realise that that's NOT IT. My mum says that if this keeps up she's going to send me to a school that has uniforms. She might as well put me in the army. Do you have any suggestions?
Spoiled for Choice
Dear Spoiled:
Buskin' Bob's always going on about the illusion of choice in our Consumer Society (you know, why have an ENTIRE AISLE of cereals in the supermarket when basically the only difference between them is the packet, blah blah blah). This is another thing he says that I haven't paid much attention to, but I can see that you're a living example of what he means. At the rate you're going you better start thinking about what you'll wear to your funeral. Let's face it, at the end of the day (literally in your case!) what you wear is petty much the same as what you have for breakfast. Breakfast is either a bowl of corn, rice, wheat or oats. And what you wear is either trousers, a skirt or a dress (or some combination thereof!). My suggestion is that the only dressing you worry about should be the one you put on your salad (you don't want to know what they put in some of them!).
[to be continued!!!]
(Note to You: For those of you trying to find my old Diary it is here... )
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Sunday 7th October 2007