I drink too much Milo. I had two packets at recess and one for dinner at Macs. It’s okay, right? I don’t really trust milk-based drinks these days. I’m always worried that they’ll give me stomachaches or boobs.
Still, I have an awakened desire to perform a Tim Tam Slam with Milo, Because All The Hot Chicks Do It.
(which shall thereon be my new argument-ender. It’s like, “Why did you do all your homework?” “Because all the hot chicks do it.” “Why did you smoke pot?” “Because all the hot chicks do it.” “Why the hell did you smack me on the face?” “Because all the hot chicks do it.”)
Though once again I face this with apprehension, as I do with everything which deems itself as a “Slam”. Somehow or other that always reminds me of poetry slam, and of bearded and turbaned men dancing around coconut trees and doing somersaults.
Also, this random guy who was playing soccer after school with us recognised me. “Hey, I remember you, you’re the one who sang at RGS and dropped your skirt,” he said in a droll matter-of-fact tone before striding off. I feigned ignorance. Huh? What skirt? What kind of, uh, sissy gay would do such a thing?