Revisiting my teenage slang
22 Jun 2007
My sister and I spent the day together yesterday without any of the children. I adore my sister, we are like a pair of jabbering monkeys when we're together, the best part about being together is that we share the most wicked sense of humour, and we tend to get caught in our own little world where hysterical things happen around us all the time.
So, yesterday she wanted to buy a pair of boots. She lives on the lower north shore - dahling - I live in the blue collar working man's Wollongong. We love the differences in the shopping experiences in the two places. In Chatswood, the shopgirls can't be bothered even pretending to be friendly to you. In Wollongong, they chase you out into the street when you leave to tell you about their life history.
In an attempt to return to our teenage years, we spent the day trying to use the teenage slang words that have long been forgotten. We got the the boots, which she wanted to wear with her jeans, and then she wanted to buy a cute tshirt to go with the ensemble.
We looked in Myer. We looked in David Jones. We looked in Just Jeans. Nada.
"I know where you'll find a top" said I "In the moll shop".
"What do you mean the moll shop?" she laughed.
"Well, what Supre is to bushpig, the moll shop is to molls" said I. "It's where the molls go to buy their clothes"
So we went to the moll shop. When we arrived, there were three pretty but identical skeletal molls tittering away in the doorway - you know the type - the ones that try out for Big Brother but don't get in because they're too stupid. If you've seen the show you'll realise this is a very low bar to be under.
"I see what you mean" says my sister "Molls".
Anyway, she looks around and states that this is definitely the shop for the finding of the cute top.
Friends, I kid you not when I say she forked out ten minutes later THREE HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE dollars for ONE PAIR OF JEANS !! The hundred dollar tshirt from Spain looked so good with it, and it was reduced from two hundred and forty five dollars, but she felt that a bit too expensive for a tiny t shirt.
I was agog. The molls were ecstatic. "Those jeans look soooo fab!!" "I'm getting those exact same ones" "They're new just in, aren't they unreal" "They make your bum look sooo small!" "You can't not buy jeans that look that good on you, can you?". I squirmed in my 29 dollar cargo pants.
Afterwards, she showed no sign of post-purchase depression. We had a coffee. She only had one question to ask. "Do you think buying jeans in the moll shop makes me a moll?"
POST SCRIPT
If this post makes no sense, don't blame me. I'm on my eighth codral day tablet for the day. I know you don't care.
ISE4 Pal!! Please don't stress. Surface mail may take three months from the US (I'm presuming that's where you are). Relax. It will come. And when it does, I'll email you straight away. Hakuna Matata.
So, yesterday she wanted to buy a pair of boots. She lives on the lower north shore - dahling - I live in the blue collar working man's Wollongong. We love the differences in the shopping experiences in the two places. In Chatswood, the shopgirls can't be bothered even pretending to be friendly to you. In Wollongong, they chase you out into the street when you leave to tell you about their life history.
In an attempt to return to our teenage years, we spent the day trying to use the teenage slang words that have long been forgotten. We got the the boots, which she wanted to wear with her jeans, and then she wanted to buy a cute tshirt to go with the ensemble.
We looked in Myer. We looked in David Jones. We looked in Just Jeans. Nada.
"I know where you'll find a top" said I "In the moll shop".
"What do you mean the moll shop?" she laughed.
"Well, what Supre is to bushpig, the moll shop is to molls" said I. "It's where the molls go to buy their clothes"
So we went to the moll shop. When we arrived, there were three pretty but identical skeletal molls tittering away in the doorway - you know the type - the ones that try out for Big Brother but don't get in because they're too stupid. If you've seen the show you'll realise this is a very low bar to be under.
"I see what you mean" says my sister "Molls".
Anyway, she looks around and states that this is definitely the shop for the finding of the cute top.
Friends, I kid you not when I say she forked out ten minutes later THREE HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE dollars for ONE PAIR OF JEANS !! The hundred dollar tshirt from Spain looked so good with it, and it was reduced from two hundred and forty five dollars, but she felt that a bit too expensive for a tiny t shirt.
I was agog. The molls were ecstatic. "Those jeans look soooo fab!!" "I'm getting those exact same ones" "They're new just in, aren't they unreal" "They make your bum look sooo small!" "You can't not buy jeans that look that good on you, can you?". I squirmed in my 29 dollar cargo pants.
Afterwards, she showed no sign of post-purchase depression. We had a coffee. She only had one question to ask. "Do you think buying jeans in the moll shop makes me a moll?"
POST SCRIPT
If this post makes no sense, don't blame me. I'm on my eighth codral day tablet for the day. I know you don't care.
ISE4 Pal!! Please don't stress. Surface mail may take three months from the US (I'm presuming that's where you are). Relax. It will come. And when it does, I'll email you straight away. Hakuna Matata.
posted by knitabulous at Friday, June 22, 2007 |
