Maroon and bile

OPINION: hings have been altogether too nice around here for my liking, so lucky for me I woke up this morning with the song Baby, baby, don't get hooked on me running through my head, writes Sarah McCarthy in this week's Uptown Girl.

For the blissfully uninitiated, sample lyrics include "Girl you're a hot-blooded woman child and it's warm where you're touchin' me". If anyone can think of a more hideous lyric that isn't in a Hannah Montana or rap song then go to the head of the class.

And it was cold in my bedroom and really early and the cat was sitting at the end of the bed instead of snuggled up beside me, and Mr mr was peacefully snoring away instead of lying rigid panicking about seven different things, like me, so the rest of the day has been tense. Terse and tense. And I tell you what, it gives you a different perspective on the world than the bloody hippie-dippy, flower child "oh aren't the blossoms lovely" pink and purple mood I've been in for the last while. I'm back in black.

Today, I almost yelled at a rather large young man wearing a T-shirt with what I took to be tomato leaves on the back of it. Why this rather scruffy roughy was wearing tomato plants on the back of his top became clear to me a moment later when I copped on and realised they were supposed to be marajuianipianam leaves. Who wears a T-shirt like that? What kind of try-hard toughie does that? Newsflash, "dudes" you do not look rebellious, or cool, or even interesting. You look like a dick.

But then, it could be worse. He could be wearing a Southland rugby jersey. I read that story in the paper this week about the surge in people buying Southland rugby gear. I have two things to say about this. The first thing is that the only time wearing team sports gear is cool is when you are actually in the team. Otherwise you are just a fatty in a maroon top drinking Speight's. All the wishful thinking in the world isn't going to get you on the team, not even if you go to the top of The Magic Faraway Tree with Honey and Moonface and you go into a land where everyone is in a sports team, you would still probably be drinking Speight's and drunkenly swinging a stag skull and antlers around your head while everyone else scores goals for Real Madrid with David Beckham.

And the other thing I have to say about this is that why have all these people all of a sudden started caring about the Stag ones? Could it be because they are suddenly winning games? And that these fans are just fairweather friends who will drop you when you inevitably start losing? The Southland public are fickle and cruel, Stag childrens, and they will break your heart if you let them. Like bad parents, they withhold their affection if you do not perform.

Just ask the Sting ones.

» Sarah McCarthy is a Southland Times staff member.

- © Fairfax NZ News

Newest First

Oldest First

Narcissism is Real   #3   07:25 pm Oct 05 2009

I haven't called talkback radio before, but I listen regularly. I am curious why Elbow Fudd took the time to read this article and then to write a whingefest. Elbow, it's free to read this column online, and it's surely expensive to you if your 'free woman' at home finds out what you say about her online (although I suspect you made her up). You can always, of course, pick up the remote and change channels. Go Uptown Girl.

Erica Hearmeroar   #2   03:43 pm Sep 28 2009

Newsflash Elbow Fudd, if you don't like it, don't read it. I think you secretly love it and it is a form of escapism from the henpecking at home, which, if your comments are anything to go by, you probably brough on yourself. Sarah's observations about fans, rugby shirts and t-shirts with dodgey leaves on them is bang on - fleeting, sad and so early 90s. Just wait until the Stags drop the ball - clothing bins everywhere will be buckling under the weight of discarded maroon threads.

Elbow Fudd   #1   09:32 am Sep 28 2009

Ho Hum, another tedious column by a moaning woman. Come on Southland Times, I shouldn't have to pay for something I can get at home for free...

Ad Feedback