I am about to embarrass myself completely. Forget the #ALSicebucketchallenge, this is the premium stuff. I’m going to tell you stories that could’ve made a blackmailer bleddy rich! But maybe I’m being too dramatic, it’s not like we’re complete strangers abi? So I can be real with you, or? Well, here goes;
I attended a public (syto) primary school with more characters in its name than Twitter will permit. It wasn’t the most unfortunate thing really, because I made remarkable friends and had many life-defining experiences. I also had a ‘guy name’ and too many hilarious (now, but embarrassing then) experiences. I must point out that I come from a long line of major recyclers. You want proof? Well the trunk I took to Presec –for example- must have originally belonged to a colonial officer. My uncle used it, then my older brother, then me. It’s a ‘don’t mind the body, mind the engine’ kind of artifact; extremely robust, but not made with aesthetic considerations.
That’s a story for another day though, let’s backtrack 7 years. I had a school shorts that was more popular than Miley Cyrus and her Wrecking Ball. I know my mum adored me in the typical I’ll-discipline-you-to-show-my-love kind of way, and she genuinely believed it when she said Alfred’s altered school shorts fit me perfectly. I went to school with more pride than Dolly Parton wore her coat of many colors with. But that’s the thing; Syto school kids aren’t forgiving at all.
I wish I could describe the shorts well enough but even though words fail me, i’ll try. Hmmn let’s see, it Read More The Funny Story Behind My Primary School Guy-Name.