rant

Forget Nigerian spam scams or sitting in a studio with Eddie McGuire smirking at you. I have THE get-rich-quick plan.
Frustration, not necessity, is the mother of invention. If I had a dollar for every person who’s commented on what a big year this is, asked me how it’s going/gone and inquired as to my plans for next year, the year after that and my career aspirations, my pub fund would be considerably fatter. Now I know that they’re only asking because they’re interested, or trying to be polite, but it does get, well, somewhat tiresome. I quipped to the last person who asked me that, that I was going to get a T-shirt printed up that read, “Yes, Year 12 is a big year, it’s been OK so far though. I’ve been accepted into St Andrews college at Sydney Uni, so all hopefully I’ll end up in arts/languages…yada…yada…yada.” It’ll only get worse once I get my results on Friday
The more I think about the idea of this T-shirt, the more I like it – the sweet bliss of not having to go through the whole spiel but merely directing the inquirer to the text inscribed on the fabric of my upper garment in a bold but aesthetically pleasing font. Instead of repeating the (no doubt astronomically high) numbers, I could just flash them. I could even do personalised versions at $15 a pop.
I could even branch out once I got the business going. Anyone who has ever broken an arm gets sick of explaining exactly how they managed it – my friend A snapped her radius falling off a pool table and faced many a blank look for weeks afterwards - so they could have the entire painful anecdote on one of these shirts; if it’s a particularly funny story on which they’ve been dining out for weeks, the shirt could read ASK ME HOW I BROKE MY ARM BECAUSE IT’S A FUNNY STORY. The same could apply for obvious scarring, dodgy hairdos and botched nose jobs.
To avoid embarrassing faux pas and awkward social situations, T-shirts reading IT’S A BABY NOT A POT BELLY, and perhaps vice versa; or maybe IF YOU ASK WHEN I’M DUE I’LL WHACK YOU WITH MY HANDBAG, which as well as being more subtle, works for both the fecund and the circumferentially challenged.
For retail shopping: IF YOU TELL ME TO HAVE A NICE DAY I'LL THROW UP.
(For retail employees: IF YOU'RE POLITE I'LL MEAN IT.)
In January: YES IT’S HOT, HOW SHARP YOU ARE TO HAVE NOTICED.
Hmmm. Reading over these ideas I detect a distinct current of cynicism. Maybe my original T-shirt ought to read “I don’t care how well I do this year because all I’ve ever wanted to be is one of those crazy old women on street corners who yell obscenities at passing tourists.”
At least if my career as a journalist (or my contingency plan of professional psychotic) fails, I can always earn a living making these shirts. Or maybe it would be better to stick to the classic format of “My parents/sister/boyfriend/third cousin twice removed/postman went to Hawaii/climbed Everest/slept with David Beckham, and all they brought me was this lousy T-shirt.”