The Postmodern Chronicles Of Hayley

I’d say that I am a prized dork. I’m at Bradfield Library, and I don’t even have a class today. I slept over at Ryan’s house last night and had to leave with him when he went to work at the crack of dawn. I caught the train into St Leonards and here I am, sitting and writing a blog post and waiting for my doctor’s appointment at 12pm. I thought I’d take this time to write a massive blog post, because I have not done one for quite some time.

Ryan was like a child on Christmas morning when he got his new subwoofer installed into his white Toyota Hilux. It’s only a twin-cab, so the passenger gets the huge footlong subwoofer vibrating into the back of their seat. Funnily enough, I didn’t think that Ryan’s radio needed to be any louder, on account of the ringing my ears suffer from every time I’m in the car with him. Lucky for me, I’m usually that passenger.

While Ryan gets to enjoy the tunes and the meaty bass, I get a back massage to the bassline of a vast array of hip-hop songs. My body is still recovering from Sugarhill Gang’s ‘Rapper’s Delight’ at 10db+. It was funny showing Ryan’s brother Neil the subwoofer when he came to dinner last night. He asked us how we can listen to hip-hop that loud and with that much bass. Then he proceeded to get in his own car and leave, where as he turned on the engine, something that sounded like the deafening noise of Trivium blasted out his own speakers. The Charlton boys like their music loud, it seems.

Last week, I voulenteered to help out at Briena Abo’s Year 10 Formal After-Party at the now notorious Abo residence. This year’s 10th grade have been infamously troublesome. My father recalls that many of the same children were among those starting Kindergarten in 1998, whom Berowra Public School’s former headmaster described as “Quite a wriggley bunch.” As history has told us, “wriggley children” ususally grow up to be the recalcitrant and attention seeking teenagers of today. So here we were - seven of us - sitting at a table outside the Abo’s house dreading the arrival of 200-300 booze laden 15 year olds. It was made quite clear that hard liquor, spirits and wines were going to be confiscated from anyone who brought them in. I wept as I watched hundreds of lightweight kids walk up the driveway with packs of beer and alcopops. By the end of the night, we had confiscated two bottles of whisky/bourbon and three whole ‘goon bags’ (boxed, cheap, nasty & disgusting wine). One thing I learnt that night - DON’T drink every bit of alcohol you confiscate. I learnt that the hard way. I went to investigate the zoo in the backyard about two hours into the night. There were drunk, crying, violent and uncoordinated teens, stumbling everywhere. It was like a scene in a horror movie with a yard full of zombies trying to eat my brains.

This one particular thug in a stripey shirt - a ‘lad’ - had one last chance after causing a bit of trouble in the party. And yes, he pushed us to the limit, like most drunken idiots at an after party of a school they don’t even go to. So we threw him out and told him he wasn’t to come back. He complained that he was waiting for his friends. Ummm… What friends? All he was doing was starting fights with people.

Then in a few short minutes, all hell broke loose in the streets of Kywong Road in Berowra and hundreds of kids crowded the streets in a riot, throwing punches, running around in gangs and pushing eachother. That’s when it was time to go. There was nothing more we could have done. They would not cooperate. So we jumped into the car and headed back to my house. Ryan honked the horn to get all the kids out of the way. “Go home and FUCK off.” I screamed before recieving an evil glare from Denise Abo. Someone had to tell the idiots where to shove it.

Later on, I found out that one kid threw a punch at Evan. And those of you who know how big Evan is, know that starting a fight with him is possibly the dumbest thing you can do. Poor guy was left with a cut and bruised eye.

On Saturday night, Joel and Ryan got incredibly drunk at George’s. ‘What else is new?’ you’re probably thinking. And who can blame them with bottles of full rum and bourbon? One thing I found quite funny was a video recording I did of Ryan. On the train this morning, I transcribed it. It’s just one of Chezwick’s drunken freestyles after he had spilt bourbon all over himself.

Wanna feel my flavour?
Start to get erratic
And be crazy in behaviour.
CUT!
I said, “Cut!”
That was a cut-cut-cut
Word.
I said, “Cut!”
Smashed ’cause Hayley kept recording
She said, “Yeah, you know?”
When you’re really drunk,
And you’re covered in bourbon.
Here - Smell me, man!
Smell the bourbon.
The bourbon’s all down my chest.
It’s all down my pants
And my penis.
I mean my PANTS!
My pants
Not my penis.
Pants! Pants!
Daymn!
They’re just pants and I’m here
Covered in bourbon.
If you wanna lick,
That’d be nice.
It’d be pretty slick.
All I need is a bit of beatbox
To rock your socks
And I’m never gonna stop
The hard knocks
With my fist
’cause MAN, I’m so fucking pissed
And drunk
And I think I might have the smell of a skunk.
It’s just chronic,
’cause I’m never stopping.
I’m like the bonic
And the bionic.
That’s what I’m tryingto say.
Fuck!
I’m so drunk, eh?
And I can steep going.
I mean I can keep going.
Not steep going.
But I do have some steep goings in my life,
When I’m fallin’ down a cliff
And I’m rollin’.
Woo-Hoo!
And I’m like fuck twice, at least.
’cause I’m just that crazy rappin’ beast
And I know I’m here for a feast.
Turkey and chicken,
’cause that’s kinda finger lickin’.
Yeah!
’cause that’s how we roll
And I don’t dare
And I stroll and I don’t care
Things that is
Happenin’ tonight!
YEAH!