Post by taz on Apr 10, 2010 22:47:54 GMT -5
- - - - - quinn allen houston.
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WELCOME TO SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. FIRST, WE NEED TO GET TO KNOW A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOU. TELL US YOUR NAME, NICKNAMES, AGE, JOB, ETC.
" um, hi, ha. well, i guess i should introduce myself; i'm quinn. i don't really get called anything else, you know, seeing as quinn is one syllable. i am seventeen years old, and i think it is a good age for me. you can still get away with a lot but people are starting to take you seriously, you know? i don't really have a job. i get paid sometimes to do odd jobs for neighbors like mow lawns or babysit, but my parents send checks and care packages so i don't really need a job."
NOW TELL US ABOUT YOUR LIKES, DISLIKES, AND JUST YOUR PERSONALITY IN GENERAL. WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE YOU? BE DESCRIPTIVE SO WE CAN GET TO KNOW THE REAL YOU.
" woah. i never really had to like... think this much, ha. but i'll give it my best shot.
like, basically, i am a decent person. i think. i mean, i have sex a lot, but i'm not that guy who uses girls for sex. i'm not a bitch about it. sex is human, right? okay, yeah, we all agree. so, anyways, i like to hang out. i'm not really a party person, i tend to get like, really sweaty. i would rather hang out in a side lawn somewhere, drinking a beer. well, not a beer, i actually like fruity drinks better. you have two of those green drinks and you're out (or, at least i am. . . i can't hold my liquor at all), and they taste like... kool aid and vodka. it's awesome.
when i said i'm not really a party person, i should have mentioned me and my mates do like to go out to a small club and do shots. or get laid. either, or, both, whatever. i think girls sympathize with me because i always buy the same drinks or something like that... it could be my hair, too. i like my hair. it looks sexy eighty percent of the time. i sound like a bitch on prom night, haha.
in terms of music, i like the weirder shit. i mean... i probably sound like one of those self-absorbed art geeks or something. i don't know, i'm not into that whole pop-punk scene thing. i like sugar army, mgmt, david bowie, smudge, the cat empire... you get the deal. i tell my friends i like those weird poppy-rap hip hop artists. they'll never know.
all the girls i know tell me i'm sweet. they still say that, even though we've probably bedrocked... my best mates know that i'm generally laid back. i can't help but be crazy once and a while. i think if i didn't lose it every few months, my brain would explode. in the bad way, not in the "four appletinis and i think this bar stool is talking to me" way, ha.
i'm not easy to upset. i don't take things seriously a lot, either. those may be related. people like to shit with me a lot, and i kind of like the drama. once, some one asked me if i braided my pubic hair and i said yes, just to create drama. it was lame, but i got my fifteen minutes of fame. "
LET'S DIVE INTO YOUR HISTORY. NOTHING IS TOO PERSONAL. TELL US ABOUT WHERE YOU'RE FROM AND HOW YOU ENDED UP IN THE LAND DOWN UNDER.
" i was actually born in vermont in the usa with my mum and dad but we all moved here when i was like three. i think we moved because my dad had a job or something like that. either way, both of my parents are really american. they sound like it, they act like it; being like them is like giving tourists a guide around the city.
i moved out when i was sixteen. i think we got in a fight or something. i went to live at my friends house, but then i bought a flat to my own name. i kind of wished i still lived with them, but i don't regret moving out. girls can come to my flat whenever they please now, haha.
i didn't start failing courses until i was fifteen, i got an f in sociology, before that, i was straight b's. now, i don't think i'm ever going to bring up my d minus average. oh well. uni is overrated, i can get a job any place without a degree, and my parents will keep sending me money regardless.
i became associated with the attention whores when i started having sex. and when i started confirming false statements about myself. me moving out at sixteen probably had something to do with it, too. it might also be that time i got in a bar fight with a chick... i think we had make up sex or something like that right after wards, haha. she was nice, we still talk. "
you can call me taz. i'm spinning 15 tracks on my record and i hang out in the eastern timezone (i think). alrighty, don't hate at me just because i'm using chris kamrada's face, he/she falls into the attention whores. just in case you're looking for me, i also play no one else yet. did you hear about the word? the bottom of the ocean is the word. k, let's do this.
Quinn didn't want to move today. His sheets seemed too soft, like Egyptian cotton or something else he definitely couldn't afford. However, the phone was chattering, and he never liked to ignore phone calls. They could be important, and generally yielded positive effects. He pulled his body out of bed, feeling the dead weight of a pulled calf muscle. "Great", he murmured, pushing the hair out of his face.
The caller ID read 'MUM AND DAD', and he straightened up a little bit before answering the phone.
"Hullo!" he said, smiling when he heard the television blubbering in the background. They always had some news channel on.
"Oh, hello, darling!" his mom, Christine garbled. She spoke musically and could talk for hours on end about nothing. Quinn leaned against the wall and grinned. She was a delight. A lot of kids his age couldn't even smirk when their parents talked. Perhaps living away from them gave him a new humor on their mundane lives.
She was talking about sending a check Monday, but he wasn't really listening; there was a lipstick stain on his collarbone. His bed looked particularly skewed,but there was no one laying on the other side of it. He felt his heart begin to pound against his non-forgiving chest plate, and quickly looked for a note or something that would reveal who/what he had done last night.
"Honey, are you okay? I hear a lot of commotion over there..." his mom asked.
"Mmmyeas, fine, dandy." he said nervously, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants.
Pants.
The pants he didn't have on.
And then, there she was. A goddess in his bathroom, standing on a pile of his dirty clothes a brushing her teeth (with his toothbrush). She was spray-tanned and had disgusting blonde hair. Quinn silently congratulated himself in his head.
"Hey, mum, I think I have to go now." he murmured, now self-conscious of his family mannerisms. "Alrightiloveyoutoobye."
Now, back to Aphrodite in his bathroom...