Some residual bayotching…

It’s generally not a good idea to sit in judgement upon people you haven’t seen in over 15 years, but this is my blogge goddammit and I’ll say what I like. I grumbled and mumbled for a few days, and couldn’t pinpoint what I found so bothersome about the whole event. Even Bek claimed to be so disturbed by the whole shebang she had to stay home the next day to drink cups of tea and apply soothing compresses to her alabaster brow.

Behold, my litany of complaints:

1. Gratuitous use of the word ‘hubby’: If I hear this more than once in a decade, I get a bit itchy. More than thrice in one room and that’s really pushing it. A word that manages to be simultaneously bogan and Toorak-posh, ‘hubby’ puts one toe over the line from normal to baby-talk. What is wrong with ‘husband’? ‘Partner’? Or god forbid the poor oaf should have a name!!

2. The hair: Everyone with curly hair had straightened it. Those with straight hair had made it even straighter. One woman had had the most wondrous, unique black curly locks, which she’d dyed chestnut and straightened to death. She looked like any other person in the street. What is it, o people of the eastern burbs? Is it a sign of your adulthood and your conformity to tame your tresses? I’m proud of my stupidly fuzzy hair – so what if some mornings I look as plain as Michelle Grattan? At least it’s mine, all mine! Psha.

3. Use of the word ‘just’: get a load of these sentences: ‘I’m just working in IT part-time,’ ‘I just have a couple of kids and look after them’, ‘I just work, you know, and keep busy’. WHAT IS THAT?? Are these people APOLOGISING for what they do now? Where is the EXCITEMENT?? Ok so not everyone leads thrilling lives all the time, but WHAT, THEN, IS THE POINT OF LIVING??? Surely if all you are going to do is settle down and breed, then there must be some pleasure in it? Surely if all you are going to do is work, then it must be in some way fulfilling? This leads in to my next point.

4. Conversatory techniques: Is the art of conversation so dead these days? Look I admit I’m not so bad at chit-chatting with most people. I grew up with the old feller, who could probably find common ground with just about every human being on earth.

There is no secret to this technique. All I can say is that the old man is interested in people. He asks questions. He talks a lot (far too much, many people would say!), but he also listens as well. In my mind, this is what a bloody conversation is.

At the reunion, no-one asked me any questions about myself. When I asked them questions, they reverted to point #3. When I launched into my own tales they said ‘uh-huh’ and nodded their heads. At one stage I recall regaling some people with more of my usual rubbish, and them cracking up laughing. I felt like the freakin’ court jester.

Whenever I meet people this boring I always have these dim thoughts: ”How do these people get together in the first place? What is the process? And now they are married, what do they talk about at home? No seriously, what do they talk about?” This leads into my next point.

5. The unfairness of it all: Despite all the hubbies, the boring hairstyles, the 3-bedroom houses in Burwood and the giant prams, these fools have something I do not. When they wake up in the morning and flop over, they have one person, or mob of tiny clamouring people, who think they are the bee’s knees. Whereas I wake up in a cold house with rats in the walls, and two terrible women rattling about who I cannot stand. There I’ve said it.


I suppose the reason why I’ve kept in contact with the handful of people I have après school, is because they’re, you know, good value. The shizzle. And not dull.

Right – yep – I think that just about does it. The bayotching has ceased.


5 thoughts on “Some residual bayotching…

  1. I shall never tame my tresses – never! Why do some people embrace all the really boring aspects of ‘growing-up’? I bet they never ‘ruin their appetites’ either…*sigh*Pxp.s. Boo, would you be willing to share your email address with me? I have had to make my blog private for a couple of weeks, and want to send you an invite.

  2. well, can’t say i’m surprised, but still dying of curiosity to see how everyone has aged. and therefore still sorry i missed it. i accept that we are still the best looking, though. but it reminds me of the wonderful foxychick, who taught many of us historical things. in about year ten, she was telling us about going to her reunion. i estimate she would have been about our age then. she said that someone commented to her “darling we’re just so middle class”, to which the foxychick replied, “darling, we always were”.and on the note of assaulting people, i was told off by TWO partners last week for yelling at a colleague. a forty something year old male colleague. i mean be a man, and take it like a man! and if it hurt so much, talk to me about it, not your boss and my boss. this is what it has come to.-mk

  3. PomG: I was heartbroken the other day when I tried to look at yours and it was all shuttered off. I have put my email in my profile – please tell me if it doesn’t work! MK: sounds like you need a blogge of your own to hoot off some steam – people who can’t hack confrontation, bah.And your Foxychick tale reminds me of a parent/teacher evening my mother told me about:My father was rhapsodising about his great love /channelling of Napoleon to said history teacher (see? Common ground??). To which Foxychick purred: “Well my name is Josephine, you know!”All my mother’s words, of course.

  4. Cosmic Law #3 (of the 1001 Universal Cosmic Laws):Life isn’t fair. Corollary: Only dogs, Englishmen and very young children expect it to be.klyok

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