Hello, my name is Lyle and I’m a child of the 90’s.
It was the decade that symbolised my education – where my character was moulded and formed both in and out of classroom. But apart from all that character building shit, the movies and TV series were freegn awesome. The likes of Steel Magnolias, Pretty Woman and Dying Young kept me in my PJ’s and in front of the Telli on a Saturday morning; Julia Roberts, holding the key to my heart.
So about a month ago I found myself researching the 90’s for some or other project. One Wednesday morning, during the week of research, something quite extraordinary happened. (This story has a point, I promise).
I woke up feeling quite chirpy, skipped towards my door, which I had locked the night before to keep it from banging as I slept with an open sliding door. Horror of horrors: the fucking thing wouldn’t open. I struggled for what must have been 30 minutes, at which point I just said fuck it! Lying on my bed, living through my darkest hour, the memories of the 90’s came flooding back.
“What would MacGyver do?”
I reached for my tweezers and with gusto headed towards the door, but all that I was left with was a mangled tweezer and a locked door. I wouldn’t give up yet – it was a matter of life and death – it was a Mission Possible. If he had only witnessed what I did next, Tom Cruise would have been so proud. I hitched my gown between my legs and hopped onto the ledge outside my bedroom window. The fact that the ledge was the width of a loaf of bread wouldn’t have been that bad if I hadn’t lived on the thirteenth floor. I made my way towards the lounge sliding door, which thank the universe, was open. As irony prescribed, my bedroom door opened perfectly from the outside. My ordeal, thankfully, came to a glorifying end.
Let this be a lesson to all those 90’s bashers out there: if it wasn’t for the 90’s I might not have been here to tell my tale.
It was the decade that symbolised my education – where my character was moulded and formed both in and out of classroom. But apart from all that character building shit, the movies and TV series were freegn awesome. The likes of Steel Magnolias, Pretty Woman and Dying Young kept me in my PJ’s and in front of the Telli on a Saturday morning; Julia Roberts, holding the key to my heart.
So about a month ago I found myself researching the 90’s for some or other project. One Wednesday morning, during the week of research, something quite extraordinary happened. (This story has a point, I promise).
I woke up feeling quite chirpy, skipped towards my door, which I had locked the night before to keep it from banging as I slept with an open sliding door. Horror of horrors: the fucking thing wouldn’t open. I struggled for what must have been 30 minutes, at which point I just said fuck it! Lying on my bed, living through my darkest hour, the memories of the 90’s came flooding back.
“What would MacGyver do?”
I reached for my tweezers and with gusto headed towards the door, but all that I was left with was a mangled tweezer and a locked door. I wouldn’t give up yet – it was a matter of life and death – it was a Mission Possible. If he had only witnessed what I did next, Tom Cruise would have been so proud. I hitched my gown between my legs and hopped onto the ledge outside my bedroom window. The fact that the ledge was the width of a loaf of bread wouldn’t have been that bad if I hadn’t lived on the thirteenth floor. I made my way towards the lounge sliding door, which thank the universe, was open. As irony prescribed, my bedroom door opened perfectly from the outside. My ordeal, thankfully, came to a glorifying end.
Let this be a lesson to all those 90’s bashers out there: if it wasn’t for the 90’s I might not have been here to tell my tale.
No comments:
Post a Comment