Your autobiography

[Feral]

This thread was inspired by ZoE-GurL's comment that she'd like to know about our real lives. I'll start with an autobiography I wrote for school 2 years ago. Plus, I've added a new chapter just this morning! So, here it is in full!

 

 

Chapter One : Setting the scene

 

I was born on 3rd September 1987. It was 9:31. I had black hair, which later evolved to brown, and one peculiar summer, partially blonde. I have two brothers and one sister. Ian is my oldest brother, then Lyndsay, then Graeme.

 

I was 8lbs, 2 ounces, and had no problems at birth. I was born in my native Warrington, where I am growing up.

 

Now, Read On!

 

Chapter Two: Cute ‘ickle you!

 

Now, I didn’t have a very active infant life. That is probably due to the fact that I was well behaved, which is no longer quite the case. Now consider this for a second. Throughout my youthful life span, I had no accidents (except that time I fell off a ping-pong table), but now I have them all the time. Well, saying that is actually not a fact. I have not yet experienced bad teeth, being run over or splitting my head open like a coconut, and frankly I don’t want to. But I have lots of little accidents. Only today I fell off my bike on the way to school. And then on the way back I did a complete carbon copy, except in a different place.

 

So there is not a lot of stuff to fill this section, so I have filled it with trash about me falling off my bike. So I’ll keep to this subject, which is babies.

 

Now, why is it that people freak over babies? Even the hardest man in town talks baby talk to them. It really is quite spooky. It’s also weird how when they drool, people get really excited. I mean, if I were to drool in a public place, would people start saying, “Ooh, you are clever!” No. They’d sort of shuffle off in the opposite direction to me.

 

Now, I’ve not got anything against babies, in fact they are pretty sweet. And I’ll make an exception for certain things like talking and new words, walking, etcetera, but none of the following:

Drooling:

I’ve made myself clear on that one.

Thumb sucking:

Oh, it put its thumb in its gob. Whoop-de-doo! Exhilarating!

Blanket holding:

See thumb sucking

Burping:

Same as Drooling

Being sick:

“Oh, look, it regurgitated all down your best clothes!” What are you meant to do? Sit there and say “Oh, how cute?” I don’t think so. You go to the lavatory, curse a lot and wipe it off.

 

I leave you to make your own private list.

 

Chapter three: My Early Memories

 

My earliest memories have got to be watching daytime TV. You would not believe the amount of idiotic drivel that goes on in these little day fillers. It makes you look forward to ‘Postman Pat’ at 2:30, ‘Teletubbies’ at 2:40, ‘Spiderman’ or something along those lines at 3:10, ‘Godzilla’ at 3:45, ‘Animal Magic’ at 4:15, and ‘Blue Peter’ at 5:10.

 

Which brings me to my next point. Blue Peter. It is the cheapest children’s TV show in the world (probably). They spend 10 minutes talking about some weird sport no-one really cares about (e.g. the mud-wrestling playoff), the next 5 making something no-one actually makes (e.g. a ‘spooky’ spider plasticine/paper maché pencil holder) and the remaining 10 minutes hosting a new competition, which seem to pop up every five episodes.

 

Anyway, back to daytime TV. Here is BBC One’s typical daytime layout:

9:00: Kilroy

A bunch of fat people, homos and trannies spread their problems onto people’s screens.

10:00: City Hospital

Watch a load of ill people walk around a hospital. I can’t wait until that annoying narrator catches something.

11:00: Can’t Cook, Won’t Cook

Some celebrity ‘chef’ tell people how to cook. The third most interesting daytime show.

11:30: House Invaders

By the sounds of it, the BBC is running a mini Mafia.

12:00: Call my Bluff

Daytime quiz show. Need I say more?

12:30: Vets to the Rescue

It’s City Hospital, but they replaced the patients with animals.

1:00: BBC News:

The news of the day, which isn’t much, because of the time of day. The second most interesting thing.

1:30: Regional News and Weather

The same as BBC News, but regional. (e.g. North West)

1:45: Neighbours

The most interesting show in daytime. Soap from Australia.

2:10: Diagnosis Murder

Drama from a morgue.

 

See what I mean? You could fall asleep watching this. Most people do.

 

My earliest early memory was at a playgroup called Early Birds, in Culcheth. My most vivid memories are the time I lost a little badge of Obelix from Asterix, the time we made ‘barometers’ and the time we made little Humpty Dumpties. I was the only one there that made my Humpty Dumpty with a mouth turned down rather than up. My logic was that if I were an egg and I fell off a wall, I wouldn’t be smiling. But I just noticed something: who said Humpty Dumpty was an egg? Never in the poem does it say he is an egg. It doesn’t have an explanatory part at the start saying “Humpty Dumpty was an egg. He sat on a wall, and, well, let’s see what happened…” It’s one of life’s mysteries.

 

My other early memories are of my reception year. Twas the year I had glandular fever, the year I had stitches in my chin, and maybe the year I first went to hospital. In reception class I remember only two people. The first is Luke Scott, and the second is Miss Baldwin. Miss Baldwin was tall, and perfectly suited for being a reception class teacher. I only see now how patient she must have been to cope with the likes of, well, reception kids.

 

Now excuse me while I go the test some eggs on a wall.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four: Special Events

 

My oldest special memory is of about five minutes ago. Wait, what was it? Never mind.

 

Oh, yes. It was of a party at Pizza Hut for my birthday, although I only remember being taken into the kitchen to see the pizzas being cooked. That was about eight years ago though, so it doesn’t really count.

 

My best experience would be my sisters ‘do’. The whole point was to raise money for a ward in which she was treated for a serious illness. Even my brother Ian turned up to spend some money. The apple of his eye was a hand-signed Liverpool football, which was to be auctioned.

 

The party as a big success, raising over £1000 for the ward. The food was good, and I went back for seconds and thirds. The raffle hit home with a bang, a signed Tranmere Rovers ball was given as a prize, but luckily we won a different prize. Oh joy.

 

Then came the auction of the aforementioned Liverpool ball, with an Everton ball also up for grabs. The LFC ball went after a gruelling competition between my brother Ian and my Mum. Ian, alas, won. The Everton ball was gone without the going, going for £100 pounds to my Dad. I thought what a sad person but he gave it to Lyn & Neil (my sister and her husband) for their then two-year-old son.

 

Chapter Five: The person that changed me most

 

Well, it’s two and a half years since I wrote this autobiography (on the 26th of November 1999, according to the file information), and believe me, a lot has changed.

This little section was originally about my first girlfriend from primary school, hell, she certainly didn’t change me most. I just put her because I couldn’t think of anyone else. The trouble with Sherrie is that she was rather easy. If you asked her out, chances are she’d say yes. The person that changed me most is the person that rejected me 3 times.

The beginning of this little story is the 13th February 2001, when my girlfriend of 15 months (17th November 1999) rang me and said she thought that we weren’t working and that we should break up (interesting side-note: she rang me up again last November and asked if I were available. I turned her down). Dammit, I thought, I was looking forward the Valentine’s day! I began to think: I’ve got to get back into the loop. The question was, with whom? I considered it from most angles, and then remembered some kind words someone had said to me two months prior (which is an unusual event for me). At a party of one of my friends, some girls were laughing at me (as in at me, not at my jokes) for reasons I can’t remember, but once they had scattered, one girl had walked past and said “oh, you’re harmless, Chick” (Chick is what every girl and some boys call me). Those words had brightened up my evening and gave me the confidence to even dance (badly). That girl’s name was Amy.

So, not soon after Valentine’s Day, (the 8th of March, if you must know), I planted Amy with some notes along the roses/violets line. These were, looking back, absolute crap. Take a look at this selection.

 

Cows go moo

Chickens go squak

I’m ashamed to admit

I’m a bit of a dork

 

Some people are wicked

Some people are fair

I hope you don’t think

That I’m just a square

 

So, if you want me

At the time we are fed

I’ll be on the Astroturf

Wearing a hat that’s red!

 

See? Absolute crap. Anyway, she followed the clues to the Astroturf at dinnertime, and sure enough, I was there in my red Vimto hat (probably not the best choice). She said that it was nice, but we were good as friends. I nodded this off and continued playing football. It was no biggie (incidentally, I seriously kicked ass in that particular game of Wembley knockouts).

Then a funny (not in a ‘haha’ way) thing happened. Her refusal was a biggie. I’d been really nice, why didn’t she accept me? I had to win her heart.

And there we have the beginning of a mad, mad love story, which involves, believe or not, candy floss, Ferris wheels, Paris, and ice cream. It was in Paris that I got my second rejection: not verbal, but actual. I had been around Amy all day on a school trip in Paris, but so had one of my best friends. I thought I had done a better job than he…I had told a street vendor to back off from her, I bought her ice cream and candy floss, I paid for her to go on the Ferris wheel. I even massaged her feet on the way back. But it was all for nothing. I guess my friend was just better for her; maybe she was just more attracted to him. But it still hurt. It especially hurt that she liked him most for his sense of humour. This hurt more because Paul (my friend) and I have always shared a similar sense of humour. We think along the same lines, find the same things funny, and come up with the same joke in a certain situation. But she had liked Paul more than me.

Looking back, I can see what I did wrong. I was playing the “romantic” card whereas Paul was just telling a lot of jokes. Amy was not at all a romantic. I think she’d rather spend an evening dancing and laughing than watch the sunset. Obviously, romance was not what she wanted. She wanted fun.

For some reason, though, I just couldn’t let it drop. The next two days, I barely spoke or even smiled. I thought about what could have been all day long for weeks. I cried about her in my tent for 3 hours on my family holiday to the south of France in the summer holidays. When we got back to school and I discovered that Paul and Amy had split up, I cheered up straight away. Once again, I gave Amy everything she wanted (I’m probably making Amy sound malicious and deceiving here, but she didn’t trick me into anything. I did it all in hope), but to no avail. Then the bombshell hit.

I had been writing a lot of songs in that particular period of time, and I had one saved on my pass worded computer file titled “By Seeing You”. At the end of the song, said something like “Amy, I’ll be watching you”. This was meant in a The Police’s “I’ll Be Watching You” way. I had also written a list of 50 things that annoy me during a particularly dull IT lesson. On this list was “People who can’t take a hint (i.e. Amy)”.

Now, my friend Kevin knew that I had written a lot of songs and he knew I had a list of annoyances. What he didn’t know was that Amy featured so prevalently in them. And so, one day in French, Amy was sat with Kevin at a computer where he, unbeknownst to me, was going through my file to find anything juicy (that’s just the kind of guy Kevin is). What he opened were the annoyance list and “By Seeing You”. Amy saw these, and obviously was surprised.

What was more shocking to her was the “I’ll be watching you” line. And so, the next morning, I got a message from her brother to stop stalking her. My world was turned upside down, inside out, and fed to the cat. My 8 month struggle had ended in the worst possible fashion.

Amy and I only began talking normally to one another a few months ago. Any feelings I had for Amy are now under control. I had let my feelings control me instead of the other way around, and it had made me a mess. Now, I’m happy to say, I’m just a regular teenage boy. And that is quite a change from what I was before.

[Natty]

Gaaaaaaawd where the hell do I begin? OK...

 

My full name is Natalie Anne Louise Tregear and I was born in Waverley Private Hospital on July 3rd 1982. Although some people may not realize, I was an accident and mum had almost miscarried, and when I was born the doctors said they were amazed I had survived, due to the fact the placenta was all black and stringy and it's supposed to be red and I dunno I guess not stringy looking (so that obviously meant I wasn't getting much food) still I survived (and some of you are probably wishing I hadn't)

 

I'm the youngest child in my family and only daughter of my parents Ron and Anne, I have 3 older brothers (Gareth-31 Rohan-30 and Michael-26)

 

Some of my earliest childhood memories include dancing around the lounge to Madonna's 'like a virgin' TV shows I can remember watching from an early age are

*Astro Boy

*You Can't Do That On Television

*Inspector Gadget

*The Smurfs

 

You know, I seriously can't be bothered doing this right about now... maybe I'll just add a bit each day

[ZoE GurL]

mmkay then here goes...

 

Born Lucinda Margret Holloway on the 15th of February 1988 i weighed 11'4 pounds and was tall, if thats the right word. I started out as a blonde which eventually grew brown with age. i was a healthy 'normal' baby.

i have an older Brother (Pete-16) who is and has been my idle since forever.

 

My childhood was lived out in the middle of nowhere i.e. Devonport . I was a total 'tom-boy' and grew up climbing trees, fishing and playing back yard cricket. This lead to many injurys, such as stabbing myself with a chisel, breaking my arms, fingers and when i was 3 i fell backward off a kitchen cabinet, fracturing my skull - which i blame this for my current level of so called 'sainity'. at this time i didnt have a TV... this lasted for 4 years and i missed those vital years of Sesame Street and play school.

 

We moved to Hobart when i was about 8, alowing me to once again break both my arms rollerblading and both my thumbs in a soccer match.

 

i travled the to England twice (once when 5 and again at 7) and all around Australia.

 

the only person i can think of who has changed my life would have to be Robin Moore, who juz happens to be the voice of a cartoon character Blinky Bill. When she was in Hobart she gave a leadership forum. she was really insperational and gave me some new ways at looking at life. small things like, 'what are you doing today? chipping stone or building a cathedral?' simple but they made me think.

 

ur still reading this?

ne way, thats all i can think of right now

 

Natty: u gonna finish ur story?

[Al-back from the BigWhoop]

feral's post has 12673 words.

 

ps- i could post mine, but then again, i dont have a life, just many seconds of followed events, and (2) I HAVE ONLY 1599724000 seconds of life or 444367 hours of actual living (not sleeping). isnt that depresssing?

[Natty]

There's nothing wrong with Devenport, it's the gateway between Victoria and Tasmania (I mean with the Spirit Of Tasmania) Although Hobart is gorgeous, problem is no huge skyscrapers. WTF? I wan't skyscrapers I'm so used to them and I'd go insaine without em, although I think Hobart is kyooote, oh and I've got this obsession with the Tasmanian Devil

 

Anyways back to my story

 

When I was 4 I started Kindergarten and , and I have a few memories of that. The biggest was playing a donkey in the Christmas play and my costume was dodgy coz one ear was sticking straight up and the other was flopping over like it was dead and all I can remember is seeing my brothers in the audience laughing at me (well they would have been 17,16 and 12) I also remember getting into trouble and being put into the corner to sit for 10mins. Wasn't my fault, playtime was over, and ok I was riding the trycicle around, and the teacher on that particular day said playtime was over, but I was at the other end of the yard, so I rode the bike back and when I got back she told me I had to go and sit in the corner (stupid cow)

 

The following year I started primary school and was devestated because all my friends had gone to different schools. Still I made new friends and even back then I was a bytch coz once I got into a fight with a friend so when I saw her on the monkeybars I went and dacked her (OK dacked is technically Australian slang, basically Ipulled her pants down) so I got detention and had to sit in the timeout corner. In grade 3 and 4 I had the same teacher and I adored her, every week she gave us a cooking class, she was an awsome teacher. The only teacher I didn't like was my grade2 teacher, she smelled funny and had a shocking New Zealand accent and her name was too hard to pronounce for 7 and 7yo's and the teacher I had for the first term of grade 3before she retired. At the end of grade4 my school got shut down so I had to go to a different school for the last 2years of primary school. It was a hole, but I managed. I graduated in 1994 and went onto high school

 

That's it for now, I'll write up some more later