Dear Miley Cyrus . . .

Sweetie, I believe I speak on behalf of every single living being who has seen your performance at the VMA’s when I say what the hell was that?

1. Why does your tongue spend more time out of your mouth than inside it?

2. A lot of your dancing involves standing with your legs very far apart. It looks a bit strange, as if the skin between your thighs is chafing, so you’re being extra careful not to let them rub together. Briiiing the legs in bud, they’re not going to bite each other.

3. You seem to have misplaced your clothes. Of course, so did Lady Gaga, so maybe you can schedule a shopping trip together.

4. You also bend over an awful lot. Good for you, I guess, I try that after going for a run, but I can only reach halfway to the floor. Some day I aspire to reach all new lows like you. (that was a pun, and it sounds really catty, but I don’t want to delete it because I’m quite proud of it).

5. I do actually like your new song, wrecking ball. Maybe we could get a half decent music video for that one? Y’know, one where you aren’t channeling your inner stripper? Yes? Wonderful.

Hushed ramblings

I realised that I have this habit of quietly muttering away under my breath when I’m in my car.

“Should’ve taken that gap,” I say almost inaudibly as I wait patiently at an intersection. “That’s not the best idea, buddy,” I mumble, as a car pulls out in front of me.

Sometimes my mutterings are louder.

“IT’S 100KM YOU IDIOT! WHY DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO GO 80?”

My point is, I spend a lot of time in my car either talking to myself or verbally abusing other drivers. Once, I forgot to take my ipod on a trip to Tauranga with me, so I sang made-up songs the whole way there.

Guess I’m not one for quiet.

I’ll be your canary

I’m a singer.

I don’t mean that in the ‘musician’ way. I mean it in the sense that, not unlike Jess from New Girl, I burst into song at random moments. Nobody knows when it will strike, not even me.

I’ve only really started doing it this year. I don’t know why, but somehow I managed to fall into the habit. It’s as simple as somebody saying a sentence, and me parroting it back to them in some vague semblance of a tune. Emphasis on the vague, it can barely be called singing sometimes.

My flatmates are used to it now, but I still get odd looks from classmates when I’ll pick a word out of something they’ve just said and sing it back to them absentmindedly.

Today I heard my tutor say “Never ever use that word in a story.”

“Never ever ever use that wooooorrrrrddddd. Melissssaaaaaaa,” I sang to myself. (The Melissa is in there because I’ve also developed a habit of saying my own name to fill the silence.)

My tutor fixed me with a bewildered stare and started to laugh. “It is an extraordinary thing having Melissa here,” he said. “Absolutely extraordinary.”

I think that means I’m appreciated.