Broken Bella Donna

{January 2, 2014}   Memories again

20th December 2010

does anyone remember the sunscreen song?

Chicks and Dicks of the class of ’10

If I could lecture you on only one topic, learning to shut up would be it. The long term benefits of shutting up have been proved by millions in bars NOT getting their faces smashed in, whereas the rest of my advice (see: demands) has no basis more reliable than my own wombling, demented, slightly skewed and occasionally quite amusing thought process… and I’m gonna tell you now. Whether you like it or not. You can always stop reading, you know.

Enjoy and marvel over the power and beauty of your youth; you have no idea just how powerful the beauty of your youth is until you’re a weak old person. Just kidding. I think. But trust me, in your late 20’s you’ll walk into teenie bopper shops and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how nice it was to get served, and not be treated like you’re shopping for your 13 year old daughter.

Don’t worry about the future, your superannuation will build itself and of course your children will look after you, they’d never dump you in a nursing home. Never. If you must worry, know that it’ll take ten years off of your life and at least that’ll solve the nursing home problem.

Do one thing everyday that scares you, unless you’re easily scared. Then just settle for one thing every month. Or every six months. Or however often it is you can afford the medical bills.


Don’t be reckless with other people’s books, and don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours. Book manglers are bastards and shouldn’t be allowed to borrow books.

Don’t wear g-strings.

Don’t waste your time on being competitive; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, you’re pretty unfit.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; and if you must remember the insults don’t forget your rose coloured glasses, that’ll take the edge off of them. And don’t forget to conveniently forget what REALLY happened, and adapt the story to make you look cooler.  

Keep your tax shit for seven years, throw away anything incriminating, especially photos from the eighties. Mullets are not cool. On anyone.


Don’t be too freaked out if you don’t know what you want to do with your life… the most interesting taxi drivers and burger flippers I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most hideous 40 year old hookers I know still don’t. Have you ever noticed the rich people always knew?

Never trust someone who says their favourite vegetable is peas.

Be kind to your hair, you’ll miss it when you join the Comb Over Brigade.

Maybe you’ll marry a seventy plus year old millionaire and sob unrealistically at his funeral six months later, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll give birth to Michael Jackson’s lovechild, maybe you wont. Maybe you’ll trip down the isle to an Elvis impersonator, and have a quickie divorce in 6 hours or maybe you’ll throw your back out doing the limbo at your 60th wedding anniversary. But not to the millionaire.

Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much because in Australia, that’s tall poppy syndrome and we’ll kick your arse from here to Wangaratta.

People will say some things about you that you don’t like. Sometimes it’s true, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it will be something you should take on board and deal with, sometimes it’s irrelevant. Learn the difference and learn what is important. And then slap them.

Enjoy your body, hell let others enjoy it too, I have it on good authority that shit pays well. It IS the greatest instrument you’ll ever own and just as soon as I work out how to talk out my arse, you’ll really appreciate that too.

Dance. Just keep it on the floor, and your clothes on and you’ll even be able to do it in public.

Read. Directions were only designed to be a loose guide. Porno mags were not designed to be a loose guide, or any other sort of guide.

Get to know your parents, especially if they’re rich and intend to write a will. Be nice to your siblings, especially if they’re younger – they’ll probably organise which home you end up in. You can’t choose those bastards so you may as well learn to like them.

Understand that friends come and go, and realise that this says a lot about you. If you weren’t such a twat they’d probably stay.

Work hard to learn about other cultures and all that shit, because the older you get, the more you realise that knowing a variety of people means you have a larger selection of people to do shit for you, whilst you sit around mingling.

Try living in New York City once, but leave before you actually get on the plane to go. Live in Northern California once, but leave before anyone tries to blame you for the Governator.


Accept certain inalienable truths; Carlton will win another premiership, text speak isn’t going away, and you will get old; and when you do get old you’ll remember that when you were young, Carlton sucked and were wooden spooners, people actually included vowels in what they were writing, and you knew the difference between laying in bed and sitting on the toilet.

Try to make sure you’re on the toilet.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe mummy and daddy are moneyed, maybe you married the ugly old rich guy; but realise that people aren’t as dumb as they used to be, and they can tie all that money up so you end up being 45 and on an allowance like a spotty 13 year old.

Don’t fuck around with your hair. It just makes you look like you should be pumping up the tyres on your house. If you’re going to get something done, let a professional do it.

Be careful whose advice you buy, and when someone tries to give it to you treat it like you would any other useless freebies – bin. Pronto. Advice is a useful tool for telling someone what you THINK they should do, but wording it like they have a choice. That’s called diplomacy.

But trust me on shutting up…


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