We got Cable over the weekend which has proven to be a Christmas like event. Monday Night Football, Colbert Report, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Cops, Simpsons, Sportscenter, The Office, plus VH1 and MTV, seriously amazing.
Today I was watching TV while working and there was a show on called "US Hardest Bounty Hunters". Of course, I started watching only to find out that the show is filmed by a group of Bounty Hunters based in Indianapolis. That's right, not Chicago, LA, NYC, or those broads from Miami, Indianapolis.
So, here's to you Naptown, I will be watching the trashiest members of the community representing America in Oz.
Monday, October 29, 2007
All-Time Walk of Shame outfits...
I talked to a bunch of people over the weekend and today because I felt the need to experience Halloween Weekend vicariously through others since it is not celebrated down here. As I talked to people there were some good stories exchanged, but one took the tops: The image of one of our friends doing the walk of shame home in an Elvis costume turned my two day hangover around as I sat at my desk. Then, I get home and I have an e-mail from Aaron Karo (See previous blog) and a link to his video about the Halloween walk of shame where he has to walk home dressed as Cupid. (Link)
After all of this, I have been trying to think of a list of top Walk of Shame outfits. By this I mean that you see someone walking along and there is not even a question that they shacked. I will start the list, please send suggestions.
1) Obvious Halloween Costume (Bonus points for Vampire style makeup)
2) Dress with excessive jewelry. Example: One morning Kirsh called me about a girl standing on the corner waiting for a ride, it was that obvious. I drove by thirty minutes later and she was still standing there.
3) Christmas Sweater (Bonus points for the sweater tied around the waist wearing a tank top or T-shirt). It's the holiday season and you see someone wearing the ugliest sweater you have ever seen and walking/stumbling down the sidewalk, you know what happened.
4) Pocahontus/John Smith in November. Someone had a Thanksgiving theme party and more than bread was broken.
5) Leprechaun (AKA The Chicago Special). This one is a little bit tougher because it is tough to judge just how early people start. However, the obvious giveaways like missing and/or carrying shoes, ripped tights, basketball shorts, those plastic headbands with the balls on the springs that may be bent or missing, you get the picture.
6) Cupid (AKA The Karo). It's Valentine's day and you're single, so you dress up as Cupid as a joke (Someone please do this) and you shack. By the way, If you're in Chicago, after the debacle that was $1 beers at Kincade's last year, V-day is on a Thursday this year so there will be $1 beers again. I don't suggest going to Hangge Uppee and doing the Call On Me dance on the floor (Good hustle Jurgs). Nor do I suggest passing out in a cab and having a female CPD Officer talk while you are trying to explain to your female friend that you are coming to stay at her place (Good hustle Dickhead).
7) Basketball shorts and Oversize Tennis Shoes. We've all seen it, she broke a heel or her feet were too sore, so she stole a pair of basketball shorts and made a dash for it.
That's what I have for off the top of the head, if I think of more, I'll add them.
After all of this, I have been trying to think of a list of top Walk of Shame outfits. By this I mean that you see someone walking along and there is not even a question that they shacked. I will start the list, please send suggestions.
1) Obvious Halloween Costume (Bonus points for Vampire style makeup)
2) Dress with excessive jewelry. Example: One morning Kirsh called me about a girl standing on the corner waiting for a ride, it was that obvious. I drove by thirty minutes later and she was still standing there.
3) Christmas Sweater (Bonus points for the sweater tied around the waist wearing a tank top or T-shirt). It's the holiday season and you see someone wearing the ugliest sweater you have ever seen and walking/stumbling down the sidewalk, you know what happened.
4) Pocahontus/John Smith in November. Someone had a Thanksgiving theme party and more than bread was broken.
5) Leprechaun (AKA The Chicago Special). This one is a little bit tougher because it is tough to judge just how early people start. However, the obvious giveaways like missing and/or carrying shoes, ripped tights, basketball shorts, those plastic headbands with the balls on the springs that may be bent or missing, you get the picture.
6) Cupid (AKA The Karo). It's Valentine's day and you're single, so you dress up as Cupid as a joke (Someone please do this) and you shack. By the way, If you're in Chicago, after the debacle that was $1 beers at Kincade's last year, V-day is on a Thursday this year so there will be $1 beers again. I don't suggest going to Hangge Uppee and doing the Call On Me dance on the floor (Good hustle Jurgs). Nor do I suggest passing out in a cab and having a female CPD Officer talk while you are trying to explain to your female friend that you are coming to stay at her place (Good hustle Dickhead).
7) Basketball shorts and Oversize Tennis Shoes. We've all seen it, she broke a heel or her feet were too sore, so she stole a pair of basketball shorts and made a dash for it.
That's what I have for off the top of the head, if I think of more, I'll add them.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
"Indy" Weekend; Saturday and Sunday
Saturday
Sunday
I spent all day Saturday walking around the track and people watching. As a point of reference, the "Track" are city streets that they close off and fence in. Since this is a tourist destination, there are hotels within the "Race Precinct". Basically, the race is like the Kentucky Derby. There will be a race on the track and then a period of down time. Much like the Kentucky Derby, girls are encouraged to watch the race topless and/or naked. And much like the Derby, there are drunk rednecks all over the place that act like they have never seen a topless girl.
FAQs:
1) Yes, I know what Ron White said about "Once you seen one pair, you wanna see 'em all." I agree, but not when seeing them blocks an entire walkway and almost causes three fights. Seriously they’re tits. And they’re pale at that. Which makes you wonder, you’re at a beach and the broad has pale, saggy boobs. Lord only knows what other hidden “Wonders” she has.
2) Yes, I know some rednecks may have actually never seen a topless woman that they weren't related to or didn't have to pay for.
3) Yes, I do enjoy topless women. Just not as much when I am worried about getting elbowed in the face or going through the thought process that produced FAQ #1.
However, this was on a whole new level. Now, with all the spring breaks, mardi gras, racing events, and Wabash Parties I have been to, there have been a lot of times where people have encouraged girls to "Earn some beads" if you will. This is generally accepted within the event space. But NEVER have I seen a man in his 40's go up to a girl in her 20's walking down the street going to dinner and say, "Get Ya tits out!". and that happened ALL WEEKEND.
Anyway, while Jess and Sarah were working, Christina and I went to hard Rock Cafe to get some dinner (Cue "America...Fuck YEAH!!"). I looked to my left a few times to see a smaller guy eating by himself and figured he was involved with one of the racing teams, but didn't say anything. When he got up to leave, he stopped by our table. Now, after the shit I had seen all day Saturday, I figured there was about to be something offensive said to Christina. Instead the guy asked us if we wanted to sit in an Owner Box in the pits and drive around in one of the Porsche Course Cars before the race on Sunday because his dad owned two of the 17 cars in the Indy race the next day.
After talking with the guy, he left his contact details and walked out. After may exchanges of "Did that just happen? Is he serious?" and confirming that the guy was who he said he was, we texted him to see if he wanted to hang out Saturday night as well. We wound up hanging out with him and his friends on Saturday night for a bit and then meeting up with some of the Girls' friends.
So, after this guy talking all sorts of Nickel and Dime about what he was going to do on Sunday with passes to this and that, find out at the end of the night that he has been on a two day coke binge and is driving back to Brisbane at 4am to "Sleep for a few hours". Needless to say, we did not see him at all on Sunday.
Moments of Irony/Hilarity:
1) As with any racing event, there was an Armed Services Display. Granted this display had an Apache Helicopter you could touch, so it was a bit hardcore. It also had survey equipment and one of the Camo nets that they put over Machine Gun bunkers. Combine a camo net, surveying equipment, horny military dudes, and topless women and you get some quality entertainment. Seriously, it was like there was a fire on the balcony.
2) Since the race track is on the streets, they have to turn the stoplights off. They also feel it necessary to hang signs covering the stop lights that read "Not in Use". Tip for the race organizers, I bet the drivers get really worried about making that short yellow doing 150+mph down the backstretch. Also, if someone is drunk/dumb enough to stand there and wait for the light to change, let them.
3) A sign on a balcony saying, "Don't laugh. UR Daughter's in here." next to another sign with a phone number on it. I wanted to make one that said, "Tks. U R Cool. C U L8r" and see how long it took them to understand.
4) In between races, there was a group of ten teenagers on a first floor balcony in prime heckling position across the track from me (I was on the beach side of the track, tough life, I know). Everytime a brod walked by they would start chanting at her in the hopes she would "Get 'em out for the boys". They would start with the color of the shirt, "Reeeeeeed Top, reeeeeed top" with increasing speed. If they were denied, they would chant "Nah, nah nah nah, hey hey, youuu suck." Pretty creative. After a while, three teenage girls came out on the same balcony. At which point 10 guys from our side of the track started chanting back at them. The girls quickly went back in side and were not seen for a while.
Sunday
Sunday was more of the same. I watched the race for a bit, realized Champ Car was trying to be Formula Uhh Junior and left early in an attempt to get the fuck out of dodge.
All told, it was an entertaining weekend and I would definitely do it again if I had some friends to go with. There were some party places along the track, but you can't take booze in and $5.50/beer wasn't on my menu when we had been out until 5am both nights.
"Indy" Weekend: Friday
It's taken me a few days, but here is the blog of highlights of my weekend in Surfer's Paradise for the Lexmark Indy 300. I have broken it into days to keep the entries short.
A Quick Point of Clarification:
Yes, they use "Indy" in the name of their event as well. This perplexed me for at least a week, until I finally accepted it and adopted it like a horny twenty something accepting that a cougar has a child. It was eerily satisfying to be able to say, "I'm going to Indy for the weekend" and have Australians understand.
Long story short, I got introduced to this group of three girls, Christina, Jess, and Sarah, through three different sources (Thanks to those involved), called them on Monday and they invited me down to stay on their floor for the weekend and go to the races. Much like offering to trade me a hostess cupcake for a turkey lunchable as a kid, I accepted and couldn't believe I got away with it.
Friday
I left work early on Friday to do laundry and pack and got the train to Nerang. Thinking that public transport would be a bit more frequent during the event, I expected there to be a bus at the train station (or at least one every fifteen minutes). An hour later, the bus arrives. After getting on the bus and getting settled I had to watch the pain of people unfamiliar with public transport (and the English language) pay for their bus fair. Thirty minutes later I arrived in Surfer's, walked to the girls' place and Christina and I got picked up by one of her co-workers to drive to a bar where another co-worker was Dj-ing.
While out, hilarity ensued. Turns out there was a group of surfers at the bar that Christina had hung out with a few times. So, I hung out (While thinking I was in the subwoofer a la Dane Cook) and people watched. While watching, I got to witness a dude that was maybe 5'9" reach up and kiss a broad that was 6'0" and when she and her friends went for a bathroom break he took another girl in the corner and was making out with her. Cue tall girl and her friends coming back, witnessing this, and his friends attempting to play Top Gun caliber wingman and getting shot down worse than Merlin. Fast forward to the end of the night. After almost getting punched by bouncers twice his size, the Surfer ends up pushing makeout victim #2 home in a shopping cart.
Moments of Irony/Hilarity from Friday:
1) While riding the bus to Surfer's, these two chicks were standing in front of me with halter tops, "I (heart) Indy" written in Sharpie on their arms and low cut jeans with ass cheek cleavage hanging out. After noticing this debacle, I looked out the window to see we were driving on Hooker Blvd.
2) After making it to Surfer's Paradise, I was walking down the street and passed a skin cancer clinic. Conveniently located 200 yards from the beach. The first analogy that comes to mind is the recovery group for sex addicts run by Luke Wilson in Blades of Glory. the second is holding an AA meeting in a pub or setting a keg in the corner for the fund raiser party after the AA meeting is done.
3) At 9:15pm, I watched a 40 year-old married man puke and bear hug a stoplight pole while waiting for the light to change with his friend trying to hold him up.
A Quick Point of Clarification:
Yes, they use "Indy" in the name of their event as well. This perplexed me for at least a week, until I finally accepted it and adopted it like a horny twenty something accepting that a cougar has a child. It was eerily satisfying to be able to say, "I'm going to Indy for the weekend" and have Australians understand.
Long story short, I got introduced to this group of three girls, Christina, Jess, and Sarah, through three different sources (Thanks to those involved), called them on Monday and they invited me down to stay on their floor for the weekend and go to the races. Much like offering to trade me a hostess cupcake for a turkey lunchable as a kid, I accepted and couldn't believe I got away with it.
Friday
I left work early on Friday to do laundry and pack and got the train to Nerang. Thinking that public transport would be a bit more frequent during the event, I expected there to be a bus at the train station (or at least one every fifteen minutes). An hour later, the bus arrives. After getting on the bus and getting settled I had to watch the pain of people unfamiliar with public transport (and the English language) pay for their bus fair. Thirty minutes later I arrived in Surfer's, walked to the girls' place and Christina and I got picked up by one of her co-workers to drive to a bar where another co-worker was Dj-ing.
While out, hilarity ensued. Turns out there was a group of surfers at the bar that Christina had hung out with a few times. So, I hung out (While thinking I was in the subwoofer a la Dane Cook) and people watched. While watching, I got to witness a dude that was maybe 5'9" reach up and kiss a broad that was 6'0" and when she and her friends went for a bathroom break he took another girl in the corner and was making out with her. Cue tall girl and her friends coming back, witnessing this, and his friends attempting to play Top Gun caliber wingman and getting shot down worse than Merlin. Fast forward to the end of the night. After almost getting punched by bouncers twice his size, the Surfer ends up pushing makeout victim #2 home in a shopping cart.
Moments of Irony/Hilarity from Friday:
1) While riding the bus to Surfer's, these two chicks were standing in front of me with halter tops, "I (heart) Indy" written in Sharpie on their arms and low cut jeans with ass cheek cleavage hanging out. After noticing this debacle, I looked out the window to see we were driving on Hooker Blvd.
2) After making it to Surfer's Paradise, I was walking down the street and passed a skin cancer clinic. Conveniently located 200 yards from the beach. The first analogy that comes to mind is the recovery group for sex addicts run by Luke Wilson in Blades of Glory. the second is holding an AA meeting in a pub or setting a keg in the corner for the fund raiser party after the AA meeting is done.
3) At 9:15pm, I watched a 40 year-old married man puke and bear hug a stoplight pole while waiting for the light to change with his friend trying to hold him up.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
If Hollywood writers knew us...
For one, there would be no shortage of work for the so called "Frat Pack" Composed of Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, the Wilson Brothers, etc.
One of our Friends loves to go on Tirades. So, when I woke up this morning and saw an e-mail entitled, "Tirade #1 of the week", I felt much like I used to when I was 10 and "Husky" and the brown sugar pop tarts came out of the toaster. I knew I was in for something amazing.
With that, I give you the Tirade of the Day:
Friend One: Given new evidence supporting my theory that all women north of 17 are whores, I stand by my current stance of abstinence. Until I see verified blood tests that conclude no disease and even then...that report is only good for one night's admission. Unless you are a hooker in Vegas; They get tested weekly. I would feel reasonably comfortable there. Or, better yet, when I start making real money hire a high end escort service one that makes sure all the clients and girls are clean I will then solicite the hottest one to bare me a son and upon conclusion of that contract my use for her will be over and I will continue to utilize the service while having produced an heir.
Friend Two: I can't believe you've thought this through.
Friend One: Yes you can. I don't even take a dump with out having thought out a plan, this is why I dont hook up...ever. I think it all the way through. I over think EVERYTHING!! Its like when I meet a chick ok...and then I get to thinking about how hooking up will go:
First, the Physical Analysis:
Does she have cankles?
Does she have nice looking boobs?
Does she look like she is going to have huge nipples?
Then comes the mental:
Can she point to DC on a map?
If I drop 4 syllable words, will she be lost?
Would I be embarrassed if any of my grandparents ever met her?
If the answer to any of the previous round of internal questions is yes, then shes out.
Then comes the personality questions:
Is she going to be a dead fish in the sack?
Is she a democrat?
Is she funny?
Does she like Will Farrell?
If the answer to any of these sorts of questions is not to my liking, she is disqualified
I once broke up with a chick I have been told is a solid 8.5 because her nose used to run and she had cankles and she was a democrat, this is how fucked up I am.
And here is the best round of internal debate I have: The Social Aspect
What does she drink? If it is whiskey, I know we are doomed and she is out of the question.
Is it martinis?
Am I going to have to keep this bitch on a leash? If so...she is out, because I am the toddler in the relationship; We cant have two. Having two would be like having the kids run the day care.
Oh best part:
Morning after examination of housing, bathroom, and bedroom
Does she scrapbook?
Is her bathroom a disaster zone?
Does she leave the cap off the toothpaste?
Friend Two: Scrap Book!?
Friend One: Yes...scrapbook/collage shit. You know...putting together a picture frame of lame pictures of them and their friends with glitter and shit all over it? Drives me nuts. Anyway:
Is her movie/cd collection gay?
These are all matters of immediate disqualification. It is like a veto. This is why I cant date in a nutshell.
Other physical turnoffs include:
Red hair, unkept vaginal region, freckles, hairy nipples, large nipples, small teeth, large teeth,gaps in teeth.
Now....on a scale of 1-10, ten being commitable insane, 1 being average joe normal, where do I lay on that scale?
Friend Two: 7.354
I later talked to Friend Two about the rant and he mentioned that there should be a movie made about Friend One. I told him it already had, it was called 40 Year Old Virgin.
One of our Friends loves to go on Tirades. So, when I woke up this morning and saw an e-mail entitled, "Tirade #1 of the week", I felt much like I used to when I was 10 and "Husky" and the brown sugar pop tarts came out of the toaster. I knew I was in for something amazing.
With that, I give you the Tirade of the Day:
Friend One: Given new evidence supporting my theory that all women north of 17 are whores, I stand by my current stance of abstinence. Until I see verified blood tests that conclude no disease and even then...that report is only good for one night's admission. Unless you are a hooker in Vegas; They get tested weekly. I would feel reasonably comfortable there. Or, better yet, when I start making real money hire a high end escort service one that makes sure all the clients and girls are clean I will then solicite the hottest one to bare me a son and upon conclusion of that contract my use for her will be over and I will continue to utilize the service while having produced an heir.
Friend Two: I can't believe you've thought this through.
Friend One: Yes you can. I don't even take a dump with out having thought out a plan, this is why I dont hook up...ever. I think it all the way through. I over think EVERYTHING!! Its like when I meet a chick ok...and then I get to thinking about how hooking up will go:
First, the Physical Analysis:
Does she have cankles?
Does she have nice looking boobs?
Does she look like she is going to have huge nipples?
Then comes the mental:
Can she point to DC on a map?
If I drop 4 syllable words, will she be lost?
Would I be embarrassed if any of my grandparents ever met her?
If the answer to any of the previous round of internal questions is yes, then shes out.
Then comes the personality questions:
Is she going to be a dead fish in the sack?
Is she a democrat?
Is she funny?
Does she like Will Farrell?
If the answer to any of these sorts of questions is not to my liking, she is disqualified
I once broke up with a chick I have been told is a solid 8.5 because her nose used to run and she had cankles and she was a democrat, this is how fucked up I am.
And here is the best round of internal debate I have: The Social Aspect
What does she drink? If it is whiskey, I know we are doomed and she is out of the question.
Is it martinis?
Am I going to have to keep this bitch on a leash? If so...she is out, because I am the toddler in the relationship; We cant have two. Having two would be like having the kids run the day care.
Oh best part:
Morning after examination of housing, bathroom, and bedroom
Does she scrapbook?
Is her bathroom a disaster zone?
Does she leave the cap off the toothpaste?
Friend Two: Scrap Book!?
Friend One: Yes...scrapbook/collage shit. You know...putting together a picture frame of lame pictures of them and their friends with glitter and shit all over it? Drives me nuts. Anyway:
Is her movie/cd collection gay?
These are all matters of immediate disqualification. It is like a veto. This is why I cant date in a nutshell.
Other physical turnoffs include:
Red hair, unkept vaginal region, freckles, hairy nipples, large nipples, small teeth, large teeth,gaps in teeth.
Now....on a scale of 1-10, ten being commitable insane, 1 being average joe normal, where do I lay on that scale?
Friend Two: 7.354
I later talked to Friend Two about the rant and he mentioned that there should be a movie made about Friend One. I told him it already had, it was called 40 Year Old Virgin.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Shitshow that has been Fall Sports
Since I have been in back in the office, I have been able to keep track of some of the sports developments since I left. In spite of me hanging a picture of Wrigley Field at my desk, we all know how well the Cubs did. Reading about the Bears finally canning Sexy Rexy (Indiana Represent!!) was one of the better days, but recently I have been in awe. South Florida #2 in the BCS Standing!? Seriously!? UK Ranked in the top 10!? (Sorry Fischer), but the final sign of the apocalypse was the Rockies winning 21 of 22 games and going to the World Series. (NOTE: Because I am 15 hours ahead, if the apocalypse comes on a certain date, I'll call you so you have as much time to do all the things you should do before the world ends). It was in a G-chat that I asked Dickhead for his thoughts on the Rockies going to the world series. The following comment kept me laughing for a good five minutes:
"I don't understand how they could go on a tear like that, its like when i'm talking to a girl, black out, and wake up during sex...its awesome that it happened, but you have no idea how it ended up this way."
Well said dickhead, well said...
Speaking of Fall Sports, I have one race to go for the season. I am going to Surfer's Paradise this weekend for the Lexmark Indy 300. Not only are some of the Indy Cars racing, but they also have "Stock" Porsches, and V8 Cars that race through a road coarse down the main drag that is 50 feet from the beach and 100 yards from the ocean. Expect a report on Monday.
Happy Weekend!!
"I don't understand how they could go on a tear like that, its like when i'm talking to a girl, black out, and wake up during sex...its awesome that it happened, but you have no idea how it ended up this way."
Well said dickhead, well said...
Speaking of Fall Sports, I have one race to go for the season. I am going to Surfer's Paradise this weekend for the Lexmark Indy 300. Not only are some of the Indy Cars racing, but they also have "Stock" Porsches, and V8 Cars that race through a road coarse down the main drag that is 50 feet from the beach and 100 yards from the ocean. Expect a report on Monday.
Happy Weekend!!
Aaron Karo and my Rumination of the Morning
Sara Maaske (AKA "Drunk Sara") was nice enough to send me some daytime reading in the form of Aaron Karo. Aaron Karo started writing about his thoughts and experiences back in 1997 as a freshman at Penn and has been sending them out to people ever since. After reading his work, he reminds me a lot of things that have been said/done in our group of friends. Check him out: AaronKaro.Com
Reading Karo got me thinking this morning on my walk. I have been taking a different route to work this week and the past three mornings I have walked by a "Little Person". Without fail, I first smile, because he's just a little guy, and I spend the next five minutes wondering how he shops and where he finds his little outfits.
The reason that I only spend five minutes thinking about that is after five minutes I am at the ferry stop and I then have to figure out how long it is going to take for the ferry to get to the stop and whether I am going to take the ferry to and from work or if I am walking home and then figure out what the coins in my pocket are actually work. It's a pretty intense time in my morning. For those of you wondering, the coins over here are in the following values:
Cents:
1,5,10,20,50 (Each are a different size and the 50c is HUGE and has a bunch of straight sides)
Dollars:
1,2 (the two dollar is smaller than the one, again, throws me off)
Reading Karo got me thinking this morning on my walk. I have been taking a different route to work this week and the past three mornings I have walked by a "Little Person". Without fail, I first smile, because he's just a little guy, and I spend the next five minutes wondering how he shops and where he finds his little outfits.
The reason that I only spend five minutes thinking about that is after five minutes I am at the ferry stop and I then have to figure out how long it is going to take for the ferry to get to the stop and whether I am going to take the ferry to and from work or if I am walking home and then figure out what the coins in my pocket are actually work. It's a pretty intense time in my morning. For those of you wondering, the coins over here are in the following values:
Cents:
1,5,10,20,50 (Each are a different size and the 50c is HUGE and has a bunch of straight sides)
Dollars:
1,2 (the two dollar is smaller than the one, again, throws me off)
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
"WTF Mate!?", The Flash
I have decided to add a new segment called "WTF Mate!?" Where I chronicle some things that completely throw me off (Like trying to use my shower, the fact that there are five different sports that can be called "Footy", and Bull Sharks swimming in a river). Before I can do that though, I want to make sure that you have all seen the flash animation that the quote comes from.
WARNING: THIS VIDEO MAY NOT BE "CORPORATELY APPROPRIATE". The narrator drops the F-bomb and there is some yelling.
That Said, here's the link
WARNING: THIS VIDEO MAY NOT BE "CORPORATELY APPROPRIATE". The narrator drops the F-bomb and there is some yelling.
That Said, here's the link
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
"I'm a Big, Hairy, American Winning Machine!!"
Mark told me about this thing last week, that sounds wayyy too good not to get you guys involved in.
It is called "Movember". Basically, dudes attempt to grow the best Mustache ("Mo" is Aussie Speak) they can through the month of November to help raise awareness and money for Prostate Cancer. At the end of the month, you send in pictures and there are various prizes. You can also apply to host the town party and they provide you with all sorts of posters, banners, etc. for free.
Basically, talk to Durkin's, Duffy's, Victory, etc. see who is willing to sponsor the party at the end of the month (Yes, I realize this is around Thanksgiving, but it's for a good cause) and get it to take off in Chicago. When Mark signed up there were 5000+ Aussies signed up and under 1000 Americans (ALL OF AMERICA) so there is a chance at some national recognition. For people elsewhere, get your friends involved and see about hosting a party. When I looked at the website, there are ZERO cities listed for then entire US for "Town Parties".
Girls, you can help by organizing stuff within your offices or recruiting dudes.
Check the website for more info:
http://www.movember.com/us/whatismov/07/What-is-Movember
It is called "Movember". Basically, dudes attempt to grow the best Mustache ("Mo" is Aussie Speak) they can through the month of November to help raise awareness and money for Prostate Cancer. At the end of the month, you send in pictures and there are various prizes. You can also apply to host the town party and they provide you with all sorts of posters, banners, etc. for free.
Basically, talk to Durkin's, Duffy's, Victory, etc. see who is willing to sponsor the party at the end of the month (Yes, I realize this is around Thanksgiving, but it's for a good cause) and get it to take off in Chicago. When Mark signed up there were 5000+ Aussies signed up and under 1000 Americans (ALL OF AMERICA) so there is a chance at some national recognition. For people elsewhere, get your friends involved and see about hosting a party. When I looked at the website, there are ZERO cities listed for then entire US for "Town Parties".
Girls, you can help by organizing stuff within your offices or recruiting dudes.
Check the website for more info:
http://www.movember.com/us/whatismov/07/What-is-Movember
So thaaaat's why the shower has been so cold...
Chalk it up to being in the land of opposites kids...The showers are backwards too.
When we first moved in to our place, the showers needed to be adjusted. So, Mark talked to the building guy and was informed that there was a limiter installed on the water heater to prevent kids from burning themselves in the shower. Thankfully, the first couple of showers that I took were moderately warm. However, they have been frigid recently.
Yesterday, I got an e-mail back form the Building Management company that said to give it a few minutes longer than normal to work through the pipes. So, I gave it 10 minutes to warm up and there was no change in water temperature. Meanwhile, Mark had been talking about how his shower had gotten much better, so I told him to look at mine. Yeah...turns out I had been taking showers on full blast COLD for the past two weeks because I thought you had to line the red dot up with the bottom of the handle assembly.
Needless to say, the warm water only did a small part to wash away the shame...
When we first moved in to our place, the showers needed to be adjusted. So, Mark talked to the building guy and was informed that there was a limiter installed on the water heater to prevent kids from burning themselves in the shower. Thankfully, the first couple of showers that I took were moderately warm. However, they have been frigid recently.
Yesterday, I got an e-mail back form the Building Management company that said to give it a few minutes longer than normal to work through the pipes. So, I gave it 10 minutes to warm up and there was no change in water temperature. Meanwhile, Mark had been talking about how his shower had gotten much better, so I told him to look at mine. Yeah...turns out I had been taking showers on full blast COLD for the past two weeks because I thought you had to line the red dot up with the bottom of the handle assembly.
Needless to say, the warm water only did a small part to wash away the shame...
Sunday, October 14, 2007
"Thats Size Descrimination!!"
No, I am not trying to steal one of Big Black's lines from Rob and Big. Instead, I am trying to tell you about my Saturday afternoon experience. So, Saturday around 11am, one of the dudes from next door, Heath, comes over and asks if I want to go wander around CBD (CBD = Downtown).
We take the long way to the ferry and to the city (again, my call with directions) and go to the major shopping area called the Queen Street Mall. For those of you wondering, Yes, I realize that last sentence included a a reference to two dudes and the term "Ferry" and "Queen" and NO, I am not in Boy's Town. Moving on...
As I have mentioned, the new style down here involves "Fluoro", which amounts to the fluorescent pinks, greens, and Yellows that we used to have on winter coats as kids of the '80's. So, Heath decided he needed to get a couple of these shirts for future nights out at the bars which involved us going into a bunch of shops along the mall and having a few beers to calm my head after the combination of hangover and techno caused a bit of a headache.
As the day wore on (and I had a couple beers), I decided that I would try and fins a T-shirt to wear out that night. Mind you, I have been running around and losing some weight, so I was feeling pretty good about myself. So, I grab a T-shirt off the rack that is supposedly an X-Large. Mind you, some of the polos I have are XL's, so I thought I might have a chance here. I could not have been more incorrect with that thought pattern. Much like me trying to fit an arm into one of Bash's shirts, this failed more miserably than Sara Maaske trying to play Guitar Hero, or cheer for a winning team ("Let's go EYES!").
But, I would not be discouraged. I proceeded to try on four different XXL ("Double Fatty Model") shirts in different places. However, each time I felt like I was getting ready to workout and was putting on Under Armor. Needless to say, I felt like I was trying to shop at Abercrombie, and I still have a ways to go.
We take the long way to the ferry and to the city (again, my call with directions) and go to the major shopping area called the Queen Street Mall. For those of you wondering, Yes, I realize that last sentence included a a reference to two dudes and the term "Ferry" and "Queen" and NO, I am not in Boy's Town. Moving on...
As I have mentioned, the new style down here involves "Fluoro", which amounts to the fluorescent pinks, greens, and Yellows that we used to have on winter coats as kids of the '80's. So, Heath decided he needed to get a couple of these shirts for future nights out at the bars which involved us going into a bunch of shops along the mall and having a few beers to calm my head after the combination of hangover and techno caused a bit of a headache.
As the day wore on (and I had a couple beers), I decided that I would try and fins a T-shirt to wear out that night. Mind you, I have been running around and losing some weight, so I was feeling pretty good about myself. So, I grab a T-shirt off the rack that is supposedly an X-Large. Mind you, some of the polos I have are XL's, so I thought I might have a chance here. I could not have been more incorrect with that thought pattern. Much like me trying to fit an arm into one of Bash's shirts, this failed more miserably than Sara Maaske trying to play Guitar Hero, or cheer for a winning team ("Let's go EYES!").
But, I would not be discouraged. I proceeded to try on four different XXL ("Double Fatty Model") shirts in different places. However, each time I felt like I was getting ready to workout and was putting on Under Armor. Needless to say, I felt like I was trying to shop at Abercrombie, and I still have a ways to go.
"I'm sorry, that costs how much!?"
So, whoever makes up the "Cost of Living" Calculators and says that things are probably going to be cheaper down here, was more full of shit than Lloyd Christmas disputing John Denver.
Here is a brief listing of some of the prices I have come across so far:
Booze (Note: This is at Multiple Bars)
Long Island Iced Tea: $14
Dirty Grey Goose Martini: $18
Import Beer: $7
Vodka/Red Bull: $9
Jager Bomb: $8-10
Other
Hair Cut: $50-60 (Needless to say, I may be protesting this for a bit)
CityCat Daily Round Trip ticket $5.10
Food
Panini $7
I will continue to update this space, post a comment if you want me to look into how much something costs...
Here is a brief listing of some of the prices I have come across so far:
Booze (Note: This is at Multiple Bars)
Long Island Iced Tea: $14
Dirty Grey Goose Martini: $18
Import Beer: $7
Vodka/Red Bull: $9
Jager Bomb: $8-10
Other
Hair Cut: $50-60 (Needless to say, I may be protesting this for a bit)
CityCat Daily Round Trip ticket $5.10
Food
Panini $7
I will continue to update this space, post a comment if you want me to look into how much something costs...
Australia: A Fighting Culture with a Drinking Problem
Well kids, it's Monday morning and I am in the office, so, blogs to post about the weekend.
Mark and I went out Friday to a place called Chalk Bar which is between our house and the Cricket/Footy grounds and has live music on Friday nights. By live music, I mean Then Again style covers with Hangge Uppee music over the speakers during the set breaks. If only the bar didn't feel like Elm Street Liquors instead of Hangge Uppee, I would have felt completely at home. Also, Friday nights are also $4 Carona's. See the blog about prices because that is a "Drink Special".
As we walked, we quickly realized that Google Map will tell you how to get to a place, but does not show elevation. If you have seen the pictures on Facebook of the hills around our place, they are not small and are far from flat.
Anyway, we survive that debacle and make it to the bar after an extended journey. We find a table right off the dance floor, get a beer and a jager bomb (Miss you all) and start to scout the talent, when this dude comes from ten feet across the dance floor and blind sides another dude with a punch square to the nose. Just when things settle down from that, I turn around to see a broad that is maybe 5'4" literally jumping and punching a dude that is 6'5" in the face and no one is in any hurry to break up the situation. In a stark departure from my normal bar behavior, I moved away from the situation, drank my beer and watched. It took three bouncers to control her. Later in the night, I left two beers on the table, went to the bathroom and returned to Mark standing there with ONE of the FOUR beers that he and I had on the table. The explanation: "Dude, you missed three more good fights break out. I saved one of the beers." "Thanks".
Given that the music reminded me of two of my favorite things from Chicago, it was only logical that I grab a cougar and start dancing. Mark, being the champion that he is, pulled a Joe-ma and jumped on the grenade. Including, exchanging numbers and inviting them back to our place. He was unsuccessful in his attempt to get them back to our place and the bar closed about 2am.
As we went outside to get a Taxi, one of the bouncers was flagging down taxis. As I am starting to be impressed because the bouncer has gotten in the cab to explain something to the cab driver, he throws the door open, yells, "go fuck yourself then", slams the door and kicks the cab as the perfectly empty cab speeds away. When Mark questioned this logic, I thought the bouncer was going to punch him.
And that's Friday folks.
Mark and I went out Friday to a place called Chalk Bar which is between our house and the Cricket/Footy grounds and has live music on Friday nights. By live music, I mean Then Again style covers with Hangge Uppee music over the speakers during the set breaks. If only the bar didn't feel like Elm Street Liquors instead of Hangge Uppee, I would have felt completely at home. Also, Friday nights are also $4 Carona's. See the blog about prices because that is a "Drink Special".
As we walked, we quickly realized that Google Map will tell you how to get to a place, but does not show elevation. If you have seen the pictures on Facebook of the hills around our place, they are not small and are far from flat.
Anyway, we survive that debacle and make it to the bar after an extended journey. We find a table right off the dance floor, get a beer and a jager bomb (Miss you all) and start to scout the talent, when this dude comes from ten feet across the dance floor and blind sides another dude with a punch square to the nose. Just when things settle down from that, I turn around to see a broad that is maybe 5'4" literally jumping and punching a dude that is 6'5" in the face and no one is in any hurry to break up the situation. In a stark departure from my normal bar behavior, I moved away from the situation, drank my beer and watched. It took three bouncers to control her. Later in the night, I left two beers on the table, went to the bathroom and returned to Mark standing there with ONE of the FOUR beers that he and I had on the table. The explanation: "Dude, you missed three more good fights break out. I saved one of the beers." "Thanks".
Given that the music reminded me of two of my favorite things from Chicago, it was only logical that I grab a cougar and start dancing. Mark, being the champion that he is, pulled a Joe-ma and jumped on the grenade. Including, exchanging numbers and inviting them back to our place. He was unsuccessful in his attempt to get them back to our place and the bar closed about 2am.
As we went outside to get a Taxi, one of the bouncers was flagging down taxis. As I am starting to be impressed because the bouncer has gotten in the cab to explain something to the cab driver, he throws the door open, yells, "go fuck yourself then", slams the door and kicks the cab as the perfectly empty cab speeds away. When Mark questioned this logic, I thought the bouncer was going to punch him.
And that's Friday folks.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
"Chicago? Do you know the Blues Brothers!?"
Last Friday, we were sitting around the office and one of the girls started talking about how she had really stuck her foot in her mouth because she sent an e-mail to a guy that works for CSC and is working in a remote part of the Northern Territory and signed it with, "Don't get eaten by a Croc." Well, turns out, there have been some people eaten by crocs in the northern Territory recently.
This prompted a whole conversation about Crocs roaming around in towns in the Northern territory until one guy said, "Yeah, it's like those stupid fucking Amer-" As he went to say "Americans" he remembered that I had just started in the office that week. I re-assured him that I was an idiot and he could continue with his comment. so, he finished it with, "Yeah, it's like those stupid fucking Americans who think that we have Kangaroo's and Koalas as pets." I am sorry to inform you all, they do not have pets, nor do they sell those animals at pet stores. I know, I shed a tear.
Fast forward to that night. I am talking to a chick at the bar and she asked where I was from. When I said Chicago, she immediately said, "Oh, do you know the Blues Brothers?" and acted completely serious. I confirmed that she was indeed serious and then responded, "that is almost as bad as me asking if Kangaroos deliver your mail. They don't exist." Her boyfriend tried to make a joke of it and say that Kangaroos do deliver the mail, but it was too far gone for recovery.
Needless to say between that incident and the Kids running around like they belong in a 1980's Jane Fonda video, I am not exactly "Impressed" with girls down here yet.
This prompted a whole conversation about Crocs roaming around in towns in the Northern territory until one guy said, "Yeah, it's like those stupid fucking Amer-" As he went to say "Americans" he remembered that I had just started in the office that week. I re-assured him that I was an idiot and he could continue with his comment. so, he finished it with, "Yeah, it's like those stupid fucking Americans who think that we have Kangaroo's and Koalas as pets." I am sorry to inform you all, they do not have pets, nor do they sell those animals at pet stores. I know, I shed a tear.
Fast forward to that night. I am talking to a chick at the bar and she asked where I was from. When I said Chicago, she immediately said, "Oh, do you know the Blues Brothers?" and acted completely serious. I confirmed that she was indeed serious and then responded, "that is almost as bad as me asking if Kangaroos deliver your mail. They don't exist." Her boyfriend tried to make a joke of it and say that Kangaroos do deliver the mail, but it was too far gone for recovery.
Needless to say between that incident and the Kids running around like they belong in a 1980's Jane Fonda video, I am not exactly "Impressed" with girls down here yet.
And I Thought America Loved the 80's...
After landing Thursday, finding an apartment Friday, getting shithoused by 11:30 Friday, Taking care of lease applications Saturday morning, and getting my bearings, Mark's friend, Dave, is up From Sydney and is in charge of the Smirnoff sampler girls for a festival called Park Life. Now, Mark had warned me about the kids loving "Fluoro", but I didn't take him seriously.
I am here to tell you. Imagine a day festival filled with 18 year olds in Fluorescent Pinks and Yellows running around on whatever drugs and booze mix they chose that morning and dancing to techno. "Sounds like Hell" is an accurate description. Give me Then Again, Hairbangers, Too White Crew, and a beer please.
Mark, Dave, and I proceed to try and drink ourselves to a point that this dress is acceptable and fail miserably. By 9:30, Mark and I are swaying and it is time for McDonald's and home.
Woke up Early Sunday morning and went down to the beach.
Needless to say, my first weekend was interesting.
I am here to tell you. Imagine a day festival filled with 18 year olds in Fluorescent Pinks and Yellows running around on whatever drugs and booze mix they chose that morning and dancing to techno. "Sounds like Hell" is an accurate description. Give me Then Again, Hairbangers, Too White Crew, and a beer please.
Mark, Dave, and I proceed to try and drink ourselves to a point that this dress is acceptable and fail miserably. By 9:30, Mark and I are swaying and it is time for McDonald's and home.
Woke up Early Sunday morning and went down to the beach.
Needless to say, my first weekend was interesting.
And So it Begins...My Journey to Oz
Sorry it has taken me this long to get a blog setup, but you will not be disappointed with these posts. The following is a selection of stories and thoughts dring my journey to Oz. All told, I took 4 flights, and 30 hours of flying and layovers to get from Indianapolis to Brisbane.
So, I survive the morning of travel around the house with my mom running off to different rooms to cry about her baby leaving and it is finally time to go. During the drive, I have to explain to my dad for the fifth time in two days that I am not going to try and grease the curbside check in person to take my oversize and overweight bag at the regular weight. in response, Larry decides that he is going to bring in "Just a couple bags in case you need them." Little did I realize that this meant he was going to bring in enough bags that I could have completely re-packed all of my luggage into. Needless to say, the check-in guy was laughing his ass off and cut me a break on my big bag and only charged me for overweight. Got that taken care of, got money exchanged and got through security with a minimal number of pictures and tears from my mother.
After clearing security, I sit down and start reading one of the books I bought for the flight. the book was titled, The End of America and written by Naomi Wolf. It is a pretty cool book. Aside from thinking about the fact that I am already sweating and I have only been in the airport for 15 minutes of the 30 HOURS that I am about to spend traveling, I look out and see a plane the size of the poster tube that I had packed pull up. I immediately think, "There is no way in HELL I am surviving the middle seat of that plane for 3 hours to Denver." Thankfully, it was bound for DC.
And then it happens, Sign #1 that this is going to be a long journey (I was waiting for something): I go to get my notepad out to write the notes for this blog to see that some how in the car ride and walking the zipper has separated from my bag and is now refusing to unzip. As I wrestle with the bag trying to get it to open like I used to wrestle with a bag of chips at lunch as a 10 year old, it finally gives way. Seriously, all that was missing was Kirsh calling me a baby Gorilla.
Immediate Sign this trip is going to be amazing: I board the flight and sit down next to a lady that has just been at DePauw University and was less than impressed with their student body.
Immediate Reversal of fortune: She comments about me reading a book by Naomi Wolf. Turns out Naomi Wolf is a very feminist writer. Mind you I am wearing a Cubs T-shirt, My Cubs hat, and basketball shorts (Listen, I knew I was going to be sweating, you gotta go with comfort), and now this broad is wondering about my support of the feminist movement. Cue more sweating.
After a 20 minute delay because the reverse thrust from the engine (Yes, the thing that helps stop the plane when you land) wasn't working correctly we take off for Denver. PS Shout out to United for getting that fixed.
Land in Denver and transfer planes. Turns out, three flights in a row from Denver to LA have been canceled for various mechanical failures. I immediately start praying and dancing to any god I have ever heard of. Remember I was a Religion minor and took classes in Eastern Religions, so that is a lot of praying and dancing (yes, and sweating). Everything falls into place and we take off in time and land fine. Of course, my typical warning of, "Just let me know if I overflow into your seat too much. These things aren't built for big kids." does not go over as well as I would have liked since the lady was supposed to be on Plane #1 that was canceled and has been stuck in the airport for 6 hours. PS John Denver was not full of shit, The Rocky Mountains are pretty cool.
LAX was everything it is cracked up to be...an absolute cluster fuck. I had to get on a bus and then tour an entire terminal just to find the correct security gate being guided by Ray Ray and LaQuanda. Aside from the Asian lady yelling at me to check out at a different register when all I wanted was a bottle of water, I got an education about Palm Springs from a guy, got some good people watching in, and overheard a conversation involving a guy who knows the choreographer for Dancing with the Stars.
Get on the plane to find out that this will be a 13 hour flight AND, despite the guarantee given to me by the gate agent, this is indeed a full flight. Also, the Air New Zealand staff are less than understanding about the need to stand in the back of the plane, with one Man Flight Attendant telling me that as long as the fasten seat belt sign was on, I couldn't stand in the back of the plane. It wasn't until after I sat down that I remembered that the "Fasten Seat Belt" light IS ALMOST ALWAYS ON as a reminder to fasten your belt when you're in your seat. Whatever.
So, I land in Auckland and am one flight away from my new home. I slept for 7 of the 13 hours and slept at least an hour on each of the "Short" flights, so I am doing pretty well on Jet Lag. As I am enjoying the New Zealand version of a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Croi'sanwich and coffee from Burger King, a gentleman comes up to me wearing a hat that says, "God is Good, All the time" and compliments my Cubs T-shirt. Now, this is easily the fifth individual to make a comment about the shirt, so I shake it off. Turns out he is from 109th and Halstead in Chicago and is going to Sydney for 10 days with some family members and was pretty awesome to talk to for ten minutes.
Sign that something bad was about to happen: I am doing what every healthy bodied person should do once every 24 hours (except girls, because they always smell like roses), when I look down and see a puddle of water forming from the stall next to mine. "G'day to you too New Zealand!!"
Immediate Reversal: I emerge from that debacle to see a table of seven dudes slamming beer like it is bottled water at 7:45 am. within 10 minutes there were 15 empty bottles on the table and they each had full beers to go. I am not Rittgers, I can't make this shit up (Love you Los De). Although tempted, I resist getting a beer.
As I am watching this spectacle, I look up and watch th disaster called USA Rugby get their asses handed to them by Manu Manu the Slender's Kin Folk. To Borrow a line from Bill Simmons, "USA Rugby, Feel the Excitement"
As I make my way to the gate for my final flight, there is a 777 sitting there. "What in the Fuck Do we..." as I am thinking this, three different sports teams show up to the gate plus a group of Chinese Nationals (I can tell by their passports). As the high schoolers are throwing around a rugby ball (Which hit me...Twice), the Chinese nationals are shuffling around Cigarette cartons to fit them into their carry-ons. Don't worry RJR, even if half of America quits smoking, China has you covered. The flight goes fine and I arrive in Brisbane.
All told, me and my 2 checked bags and two carry on bags survived 30 hours of flying and layovers with minimal delays and only one quick chat with a Customs official in the Brisbane Airport.
So, I survive the morning of travel around the house with my mom running off to different rooms to cry about her baby leaving and it is finally time to go. During the drive, I have to explain to my dad for the fifth time in two days that I am not going to try and grease the curbside check in person to take my oversize and overweight bag at the regular weight. in response, Larry decides that he is going to bring in "Just a couple bags in case you need them." Little did I realize that this meant he was going to bring in enough bags that I could have completely re-packed all of my luggage into. Needless to say, the check-in guy was laughing his ass off and cut me a break on my big bag and only charged me for overweight. Got that taken care of, got money exchanged and got through security with a minimal number of pictures and tears from my mother.
After clearing security, I sit down and start reading one of the books I bought for the flight. the book was titled, The End of America and written by Naomi Wolf. It is a pretty cool book. Aside from thinking about the fact that I am already sweating and I have only been in the airport for 15 minutes of the 30 HOURS that I am about to spend traveling, I look out and see a plane the size of the poster tube that I had packed pull up. I immediately think, "There is no way in HELL I am surviving the middle seat of that plane for 3 hours to Denver." Thankfully, it was bound for DC.
And then it happens, Sign #1 that this is going to be a long journey (I was waiting for something): I go to get my notepad out to write the notes for this blog to see that some how in the car ride and walking the zipper has separated from my bag and is now refusing to unzip. As I wrestle with the bag trying to get it to open like I used to wrestle with a bag of chips at lunch as a 10 year old, it finally gives way. Seriously, all that was missing was Kirsh calling me a baby Gorilla.
Immediate Sign this trip is going to be amazing: I board the flight and sit down next to a lady that has just been at DePauw University and was less than impressed with their student body.
Immediate Reversal of fortune: She comments about me reading a book by Naomi Wolf. Turns out Naomi Wolf is a very feminist writer. Mind you I am wearing a Cubs T-shirt, My Cubs hat, and basketball shorts (Listen, I knew I was going to be sweating, you gotta go with comfort), and now this broad is wondering about my support of the feminist movement. Cue more sweating.
After a 20 minute delay because the reverse thrust from the engine (Yes, the thing that helps stop the plane when you land) wasn't working correctly we take off for Denver. PS Shout out to United for getting that fixed.
Land in Denver and transfer planes. Turns out, three flights in a row from Denver to LA have been canceled for various mechanical failures. I immediately start praying and dancing to any god I have ever heard of. Remember I was a Religion minor and took classes in Eastern Religions, so that is a lot of praying and dancing (yes, and sweating). Everything falls into place and we take off in time and land fine. Of course, my typical warning of, "Just let me know if I overflow into your seat too much. These things aren't built for big kids." does not go over as well as I would have liked since the lady was supposed to be on Plane #1 that was canceled and has been stuck in the airport for 6 hours. PS John Denver was not full of shit, The Rocky Mountains are pretty cool.
LAX was everything it is cracked up to be...an absolute cluster fuck. I had to get on a bus and then tour an entire terminal just to find the correct security gate being guided by Ray Ray and LaQuanda. Aside from the Asian lady yelling at me to check out at a different register when all I wanted was a bottle of water, I got an education about Palm Springs from a guy, got some good people watching in, and overheard a conversation involving a guy who knows the choreographer for Dancing with the Stars.
Get on the plane to find out that this will be a 13 hour flight AND, despite the guarantee given to me by the gate agent, this is indeed a full flight. Also, the Air New Zealand staff are less than understanding about the need to stand in the back of the plane, with one Man Flight Attendant telling me that as long as the fasten seat belt sign was on, I couldn't stand in the back of the plane. It wasn't until after I sat down that I remembered that the "Fasten Seat Belt" light IS ALMOST ALWAYS ON as a reminder to fasten your belt when you're in your seat. Whatever.
So, I land in Auckland and am one flight away from my new home. I slept for 7 of the 13 hours and slept at least an hour on each of the "Short" flights, so I am doing pretty well on Jet Lag. As I am enjoying the New Zealand version of a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Croi'sanwich and coffee from Burger King, a gentleman comes up to me wearing a hat that says, "God is Good, All the time" and compliments my Cubs T-shirt. Now, this is easily the fifth individual to make a comment about the shirt, so I shake it off. Turns out he is from 109th and Halstead in Chicago and is going to Sydney for 10 days with some family members and was pretty awesome to talk to for ten minutes.
Sign that something bad was about to happen: I am doing what every healthy bodied person should do once every 24 hours (except girls, because they always smell like roses), when I look down and see a puddle of water forming from the stall next to mine. "G'day to you too New Zealand!!"
Immediate Reversal: I emerge from that debacle to see a table of seven dudes slamming beer like it is bottled water at 7:45 am. within 10 minutes there were 15 empty bottles on the table and they each had full beers to go. I am not Rittgers, I can't make this shit up (Love you Los De). Although tempted, I resist getting a beer.
As I am watching this spectacle, I look up and watch th disaster called USA Rugby get their asses handed to them by Manu Manu the Slender's Kin Folk. To Borrow a line from Bill Simmons, "USA Rugby, Feel the Excitement"
As I make my way to the gate for my final flight, there is a 777 sitting there. "What in the Fuck Do we..." as I am thinking this, three different sports teams show up to the gate plus a group of Chinese Nationals (I can tell by their passports). As the high schoolers are throwing around a rugby ball (Which hit me...Twice), the Chinese nationals are shuffling around Cigarette cartons to fit them into their carry-ons. Don't worry RJR, even if half of America quits smoking, China has you covered. The flight goes fine and I arrive in Brisbane.
All told, me and my 2 checked bags and two carry on bags survived 30 hours of flying and layovers with minimal delays and only one quick chat with a Customs official in the Brisbane Airport.
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