Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

I've always wondered what will be said at my funeral. Yes, there will be my loyal and devoted family and friends, who will, no doubt, be inconsolable and of course my frenemies will make an appearance. I'm almost certain of it. 

However, I will need you to ensure that these people are left off the guest list. They include, but are not limited to the evil lawyer I worked with, any teacher who taught me in elementary school and anyone who ever worked at the Number Three road 711 between 1990 and 1994. What? Are you shocked? Surprise! I wasn't always the sweet and innocent girl that you have all come to know and love.

Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth



You see, I used to be what some may call a little 'dramatic'. Some people would call me a brat. Conniving, even. I prefer the term ‘go-getter’. I know what I want, therefore I go and get it.  I mean, what eight year old would be so good at forging her mother's signature, with the sole purpose of obtaining a free kitten from her school? Me, that's who. Yes, I forged my mother's signature, but in all fairness, don't you think it was the teacher's responsibility to pick up on the fact that the note was hand-written by a third grader?

In my defence, I haven’t always been so bad. I mean, that lawyer had it coming. I had the displeasure of working with him, when I was a first year law student. He was a bitter man, whom I believed, did not hold women in high regard. Now, I’m not a feminist, but I won’t allow anyone to treat me like garbage.

So, when I was accused of burning the fuse in the water kettle, I had to stand up for myself. What happened to being ‘innocent until proven guilty’? He sent me to the mechanics next door to fix it. I believe the exact words he used were for me to work my ‘appeal’ on the boys and get them to change the fuse. Huh?  I was an impressionable 19 year old and working in a law firm, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to whore myself out for the sake of fixing your stupid kettle. Well, guess what?  It WAS me who burned the fuse in the kettle. I didn't know there was no water in it. You were an asshole anyway. Oh and by the way, I kind of passed on one of your messages from 'Debbie' your mistress to your wife. Sorry!

There's that mouth again

It is with trepidation that I must confess to the following crimes:

Dad, when I was nine and you found me in the garage, with all your $1 and $2 coins, I wasn't counting them like I told you. I was planning to steal them. I'm sorry, but addictions start at a young age.

Mr Francis*, I wasn't interested in the Matisse exhibition in Canberra. I only wanted to go because the boy I liked was going. Oh and I think we both knew I wasn't moving back to Canada. Guess what? The guy is now gay. so it was a fruitless effort on my part. Yep, I sure can pick 'em! Note: I had nothing to do with him being gay!

The late Kerry Packer, when I worked at Hoyts, I let anybody and everybody in for free. I felt sorry for the families that wanted to take their kids to the movies, but couldn't afford to. Why do you think I got so many letters of praise, flowers and gifts? Duh, I was the modern-day Robin Hood!

Mom and dad, do you remember when I asked for $600 for uni textbooks, I didn't really buy books. I bought three pairs of the same shoe in three different colours. Sorry. I also caused three out of the four accidents I was in.

To the lovely Indian employees, who worked at the 711 on the Number Three road in Richmond, I stole candy! Tons of it! And you sold me cigarettes, whilst I was underage. The only time you ever carded me was when I was legally old enough to buy them. FAIL!

To my sister Caroline, my report cards were just as bad as yours, so you were really doing ME a favour, when you asked me not to show mom and dad our report cards. And to think, my parents actually believed me when I told them we weren't getting report cards that semester...

*Mr Francis has since passed away. I always felt bad lying to him because he was such a nice man.