I’m not waiting to get hacked, here’s all my secrets: Mel Buttle

Take that dark web, I’ve admitted it, I’m an attention-seeking, sandy-biscuit-munching social outcast, writes Mel Buttle as she airs her own secrets before anyone else can.

I have had a full-on year, you know those years where you find yourself buying tyres for the car, then trading it in a month later? 2022 has been like a steak at a wedding, a bit tough. However, I’ve realised, even though 2022 has ridden roughshod over me, I’ve at least been safe from data breaches, but with my passwords being on the weak side, I feel like my time is coming.

So, I’m going to get ahead of the scandal and leak my own data. I realise that the hackers are mostly interested in our identity documents and financial information, however there’s no telling what I might pay to have a slightly-on-the-nose story about my high school days scrubbed off the web.

Let’s jump in. For attention in Year 3 I buried a Tim Tam in the sand of the adventure playground before school. Then at morning tea, while kids played nearby, I miraculously found it, unwrapped it and ate it. I thought the others would be in awe at my biscuit finding ability, and that I had the guts to eat a biscuit from the ground. (I was, and still am, very bad at predicting people’s reactions to things. Like the time I got my mum an electric razor for Christmas. Instead of applause I was greeted with stares, silence, then everyone just got back to whatever they were doing.)

Mel Buttle shares a few of her embarrassing stories before anyone else can.

I had won over no one, and had a mouthful of sand to boot. Take that dark web, I’ve admitted it, I’m an attention-seeking, sandy-biscuit-munching social outcast.

While we’re airing our personal shame, yes it’s true I did vomit in a pot plant out the front of a Spotlight store.

I was 13, I’d been in the car reading The Witches on the long drive there, and as I tried to walk through the sliding door, it was the first time I’d looked up for well over 45 minutes. I swayed, my eyes rolled back in my head and before I knew it, blergh.

I was then ushered back in the car and away from the sequin material and hair ribbons I’d
come to purchase. That’s hit the public eye now, lap it up.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. When I was 16, I helped out at a wedding reception. My job was to offer people food on trays, I was well-briefed, you approach a group, announce what it is, offer the tray, then offer a napkin. Easy.

Towards the end of the afternoon though, when the food was done, I was seconded to the bar. A man asked for a Coke and orange, what a weird drink choice I thought, but you’re here to serve not judge so I made him his drink and handed it to him.

He looked confused and asked, “Where’s the orange juice?” I nodded at his drink. “In with the Coke,” I replied.

Mel Buttle doesn’t want to fall victim to a data breach so she’s getting in first.

I could tell from his face the mistake I’d made. This man didn’t want some fruity, fizzy combo; he wanted two drinks, one Coke, and obviously one orange juice. Another failure, now leaked to the public.

I’ll leave you with this gross act of mine. Let’s go way back in time to when I was four. There was a little boy called Derrick who wanted to cuddle me at the park all the time, I’d push him off, and go and play elsewhere.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t as into Derrick as he was me, so I mashed a handful of dirt into his chest. Yes, I resorted to violence, you’ve got me. I’m a sandy biscuit munching, public vomiting, Coke and orange juice mixing, violent grub. That’s out there forever now, and boy do I feel better.