Childhood Ambitions
HoratioFellatio writes:
"At the tender age of 13, my little hairless clockweights squirted their first dose of testosterone into my blood stream. The result was a mental alarm clock shouting, 'I NEED TO LOOK AT GIRL'S FANNIES.' I reasoned that if I became a Gynaecologist, I'd get to look at fannies all day.
"It was only when I reached the age of about 16 and learnt about STD's and yeast infections that I realised I'd only ever get to see diseased ones."
Tell us about your childhood career ambitions and the moment at which your aspirations crumbled into a pile of broken dreams.
( , Thu 29 Mar 2007, 12:02)
HoratioFellatio writes:
"At the tender age of 13, my little hairless clockweights squirted their first dose of testosterone into my blood stream. The result was a mental alarm clock shouting, 'I NEED TO LOOK AT GIRL'S FANNIES.' I reasoned that if I became a Gynaecologist, I'd get to look at fannies all day.
"It was only when I reached the age of about 16 and learnt about STD's and yeast infections that I realised I'd only ever get to see diseased ones."
Tell us about your childhood career ambitions and the moment at which your aspirations crumbled into a pile of broken dreams.
( , Thu 29 Mar 2007, 12:02)
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Tank Girl
Didn't think I had too much to add this week, but Big Girl's Blouse just jogged the ol' memoir, and here we are.
When I was 17 I was absolutely convinced the woman I would marry would be a walking, talking, real-life Tank Girl, complete with technicolour mohican, band-aids, para-boots and collection of automatic weaponry. She would be the epitomy of post-goth, post-grunge, sexually-aggressive, stripey-hosiered Riot-Grrrrl cool, and she would, like, TOTALLY freak my parents out. Maaan.
Never mind the fact that my parents are late-60's, wannabe-woodstock, baby-boom liberals, who have so far proven themselves phenominally difficult to freak out, being the beligerantly tolerant bastards that they are (the one noteable exception being a minor brain-spasm when I got my ear pierced, which, bizarrely, caused way more of a riot than my tattoos did - if anyone ever figures out the middle classes, please can you send me a postcard?)
Never mind the fact that the one and only girl I ever met who really WAS the epitomy of post-goth, post-grunge, sexually-aggressive, stripey-hosiered Riot-Grrrrl cool, and who probably DID own an array of automatic weaponry concealed in the back of her walk-in wardrobe/dungeon/armoury, scared the living shit out of me so badly that for months I couldn't get aroused by anything more left-field than The Archers.
Never mind the fact that the woman I ended up with (who I WILL marry, exactly 6 months after everyone on Earth stops nagging me about it), works for an insurance company and likes to watch Desperate Housewives.
I guess my (absolutely non-patronising) point is that, however passionate they seem, the ambitons of teenagers can seem pretty ludicrous. Case in point - aforementioned girlfriend has a 15-yr-old sister who claims with absolute sincerity that she's going to have 3 kids - 2 by birth and she's going to adopt an African baby like Angelina Jolie.
That said, I don't remember ever harbouring an ambition to be an account manager for a hazily-sinister global technology company, and here I am, so who's to say I'm right and they're wrong?
( , Mon 2 Apr 2007, 15:05, Reply)
Didn't think I had too much to add this week, but Big Girl's Blouse just jogged the ol' memoir, and here we are.
When I was 17 I was absolutely convinced the woman I would marry would be a walking, talking, real-life Tank Girl, complete with technicolour mohican, band-aids, para-boots and collection of automatic weaponry. She would be the epitomy of post-goth, post-grunge, sexually-aggressive, stripey-hosiered Riot-Grrrrl cool, and she would, like, TOTALLY freak my parents out. Maaan.
Never mind the fact that my parents are late-60's, wannabe-woodstock, baby-boom liberals, who have so far proven themselves phenominally difficult to freak out, being the beligerantly tolerant bastards that they are (the one noteable exception being a minor brain-spasm when I got my ear pierced, which, bizarrely, caused way more of a riot than my tattoos did - if anyone ever figures out the middle classes, please can you send me a postcard?)
Never mind the fact that the one and only girl I ever met who really WAS the epitomy of post-goth, post-grunge, sexually-aggressive, stripey-hosiered Riot-Grrrrl cool, and who probably DID own an array of automatic weaponry concealed in the back of her walk-in wardrobe/dungeon/armoury, scared the living shit out of me so badly that for months I couldn't get aroused by anything more left-field than The Archers.
Never mind the fact that the woman I ended up with (who I WILL marry, exactly 6 months after everyone on Earth stops nagging me about it), works for an insurance company and likes to watch Desperate Housewives.
I guess my (absolutely non-patronising) point is that, however passionate they seem, the ambitons of teenagers can seem pretty ludicrous. Case in point - aforementioned girlfriend has a 15-yr-old sister who claims with absolute sincerity that she's going to have 3 kids - 2 by birth and she's going to adopt an African baby like Angelina Jolie.
That said, I don't remember ever harbouring an ambition to be an account manager for a hazily-sinister global technology company, and here I am, so who's to say I'm right and they're wrong?
( , Mon 2 Apr 2007, 15:05, Reply)
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