Since there is no rule that says every day on facebook has to be an inspirational quote wankfest, and to combat the tides of creepy upworthy shit, I have compiled a list of good solid Shitsville advice to guide you through this awful life. Bookmark it. Print it out and stick it on your wall. Thank me later.
1. Technically a lifeline is also enough rope to hang yourself with.
2. What most people think of as pessimism is in my case a kind of inspired prescience for being able to see shit coming from the far off distance.
3. You too might turn to drink if your atrium became a nest of rat’s heads.
4. Never let them tell you that drink isn’t the answer.
5. Scotch is an unkind mistress.
6. People who post pictures of their food on facebook can fuck off.
7. You should abandon your acting pursuits. You are 28 now. Too old to dream.
8. Every jerk thinks he’s entitled to an opinion.
9. You can sit at home and not meet anyone; or you can go out and meet people, and provided you apply yourself to this form of masochism over a period of time you will meet more and more people, and in time you will have met so many people you may find yourself wishing that you had stuck at home alone by yourself after all.
10. The flow-on effect of the ‘everybody loves Santa’ thing is that old bearded fat guys who could be bikies or pedos for all anyone knows are automatically assumed to be jolly and kind.
11. It is safe to say that you can always judge a person by their shoes. Shoes never lie. Write this down.
12. You should really never underestimate the power that attaches to having fabulously skinny legs in white chaps.
13. Galliano is a turd: an ugly, anti-semitic dick of the highest order (like Cecil Beaton), who designs couture gowns for Disney princesses and Barbie dolls (also like Cecil Beaton, who is now mercifully dead). I would swap John Galliano for the re-animated corpse of Alexander McQueen in a smoker’s-quickened heartbeat.
14. The population is sustained by inbreeding.
15. While we do make exceptions to the rules in the case of medical conditions, ‘stupidity’ is not a medical condition, tho it is something unfortunate you have to live with.
16. “Sunshine brings out the worst in people. You can see their flaws quite clearly.”
17. They say that blood is thicker than water, but then again so is Scotch, and in my experience Scotch will quickly produce a more magnificent happiness and less enduring misery than any relation.
18. “That’s what Motherhood will do to you: give you an aversion to small children.”
19. “You won’t like it if the vegans take you. They’ll force you to walk around free-range in the sunlight and live in a utopian commune with scraggy chickens. You won’t be the biggest cock there. Demented roosters will crow in your ear all night. You’ll catch avian flu dicking one of the water fowls. And, worst of all, they’ll spend all of their time telling you how wonderful and beautiful you are, which is an insult coming from someone who’ll wear hessian pants and brown sandals. Well I mean it doesn’t mean a lot if you’re being praised by someone who has no discernment.”
20. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that it’s impossible to ever sit around feeling content for any given period of time before some arsehole with a briefcase appears on the horizon, approaches from a distance and comes to fuck it all up.
21. “They are labouring under a misapprehension… assuming that comedians are buoyant & happy people. When really it is no joke thinking up jokes all of the time & depressing too as I think you’ll agree looking around us now that there’s little here that could be considered amusing.”
22. To improve the collective gene pool, more folks oughter marry their cousins.
23. You have to wonder why these people worry so much about going to hell when they already live in Texas.
24. There is no colour more beautiful or disgusting than pink; it is the colour of the womb, flushed lips, spring flowers, raw meat, spliced birds that have been massacred by gorgeous fluffy cats, albino’s eyes, broken veins scattered across alcoholic noses and Pepto-Bismol.
25. Once he said to me, “Honey, you gotta try harder to be nicer to people you despise.” But I said, “If I were nicer, they wouldn’t know I despised them, then what incentive would they have to change?”
26. “Surely when two women come together, and one of them says, ‘How are you, sister?’ and the other one says, ‘Sister, I’m miserable,’ then the topic of men is going to come up at some point?”
27. He stood before the mirror every day (squinting through the grime) repeating “I must – I must be thinner. A new me. The best me I can be!” It was his motivating mantra. That day when he was thin, he said, would be the day when all of his other life’s achievements would pale in comparison. Every woman he passed on the street would be attracted to his long, lean figure, and come panting after him; men would doff their hats as a sign of respect for his ability to attract high-class crumpet. Clearly that is bullshit. Don’t bother.
28. You can only get hurt when you love something. If you don’t love anything, nothing can hurt you.
“She died horribly,” said Mother, turning her face to hide her expression.
“Accident with a bear trap.”
“What was she doing with a bear trap?”
“What was she doing with a bear is the important question.”
I took a moment to picture the event.
“Well that’s a mercy!” said I at last. “I’ve always hated the woman.”
This seemed to put Mother in a good humour. Aunt Rosemary was, afterall, her own sister. They had once had a stage act called the Something Sisters & danced very well, but that of course was in younger days, before Rosemary developed her zoological interests and Mother developed no interests at all, but had a lot of husbands nevertheless.
After a time, while we sat in the dark, and Mother finished off the crossword, and won every sudoku, she said, “Forgive me for mentioning it, my sweet one,” and lit another cigarette. “This is perhaps not the thing a young girl wants to hear from her own mother. But I’ve got the impression lately that you have turned into a little bit of a shitkicker.”
“I cannot tell a lie, Mother.”
“Think of all the things you are good at.”
“That would take too long,” said I.
“Yet you sell popcorn for a living.”
“It is really first rate popcorn,” said I.
I tried to explain about the ennui, the weight of the centuries, the insidious creep of time, and self reflection in the dead of night, the velvet darkness, the void of silence, etc. etc. etc. “I am really suffering for the lack of a point,” said I at last. “I have all the diamonds & beauty & praise & brains, afterall. But it’s not enough.”
“Yes,” said Mother thoughtfully. “It is famously difficult to satisfy a Shitsville woman.”
“Is that an entendre, Mother? I like it.”
“I like it too. It is true anyway. It accounts for all of the junk I have got here.”
“That painting, for example.”
“Frank Sinatra gave it to me. Ava Gardner was the one who picked it out.”
“I hate it. They were both drunks. ”
“But really,” said Mother. “You must try to find an occupation that marries what you are good at and what you enjoy. Besides the obvious.”
(She didn’t want me to follow in her footsteps.)
I took some time to think.
“Well, Mother… I am very good at insulting people & offering unasked-for opinions on many subjects, and I enjoy it very much.”
“Oh!” said Mother. She looked distraught. “Are you a hipster?!”
“Oh, Mother!” said I. I was close to tears. “The things you say to me!”
“Ohh, you meant you could be a sort of reviewer,” she said. “You really frightened me for a minute.”
“Generally reviewers are required to take some kind of interest in contemporary culture & modern life,” I sniffed. “So that is OUT.”
“Then you could be like Truman Capote & Dorothy Parker & all of those tits, and live off writing thinly veiled portraits of your friends and family.”
“Mother – Mother – Mother, that is something I would never ever, ever do*. It would be such an absolute betrayal of trust*. And I’m afraid they would not be very interesting or complimentary.”
“But they are your own friends?!”
“It is their one redeeming feature.”
“So that is OUT too, I guess. Maybe you should just forget about a career and do what every other woman does, which is try to give meaning to a meaningless life by pursuing meaningless & uninspired love affairs with unworthy gentlemen.”
“Oh, I’ve done all that, that’s all been done,” I said, waving my hand to get the smoke away. “How do you think I got so bored in the first place?”
“Why? What happened with your last boyfriend?”
“He was largely a somnambulant boy. He only remembered we were dating when he was drunk, then would pass out before he had a chance to do anything about it.”
“Why don’t you try dating someone who is not an alcoholic?”
“Because then we would have nothing in common!”
Footnote: *a lie.