From Justin Goat-Bullen

Having witnessed the infamous Battle of the Baked Beans, I can elaborate on some of the dialogue, most notably Taz yelling at Matt, “They’re just baked beans, you fkn psycho,”* before grabbing him by the shoulders and delivering a sickening boot to the groin.

This wasn’t the only time I was terrified of Taryn. The teenage hormones ran strong. Intense mood swings were a daily occurrence. A simple request to pick up her clothes or stop popping pimples on the bathroom mirror could light the fuse for an epic meltdown.

When the decibels started to rise, there was generally no choice but to seek shelter in Matt’s room. A price I was more than happy to pay if there was a chance of raiding the Elders’ pantry for a roll-up once the dust settled.

In between screaming matches, Taz would return to normal programming, downloading the latest track on LimeWire and insisting I watch her perform interpretive dance to it. Or trying to rope me into one of her art projects. Usually this involved Taryn dressing in sequins and finding various spots around Lake Gardens to pose for photos.

True to form, I expect this cancer to be met with nothing less than a dose of teenage fury, some performing arts, and a little fashion whenever the opportunity arises.

So it’s been very reassuring to hear about the attempt to bring her entire wardrobe into hospital and to see her work the IV pole with some pretty solid sl*t drops. Keep up the fantastic work Muler / bookworm. You got this covered