If I Get Eaten by a Shark

If I get eaten by a shark while in Australia I didn't want that last post to be my, well, last post. As such, I had to just get another one in. I was feeling kind of out of it and I believe I had some sort of dizziness resulting from the cheesesteak I made myself for dinner last night. I tend to get tired earlier these days, and I don't know why, but I don't think it is because of inactivity. I just think I need to "have a sleep" aka have a nap, as Bret and Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords say.

Bret? Present. Jemaine? Present.

This past week's episode centered around Jemaine, a New Zealander, dating an Aussie, much to the disappointment of Bret and Murray, and basically if you don't watch the show you have no idea what the hell I am talking about. Anyway, I thought it was a good episode, especially because it reminded me of how different those Aussies talk. At one point Jemaine's Aussie girlfriend excuses herself because she has to "go to the dunny to murder a brownsnake". Dunny is toilet, and you can figure out the rest. Seriously, I can't wait to relax with my cobbers and have a coldie and a sanger on a sunny arvo while sitting in my togs watching the tanned Jillaroos. Which obviously means, I can't wait to relax with my friends and have a beer and a sandwich on a sunny afternoon while sitting in my swimsut watching the tanned female trainee station managers. Wait what? Female trainee station managers? I don't even know what that means. Is that like a female gas station attendant, because if it is that's kind of gross. I think I need to work on this a little bit before I go opening my mouth over there.

But before I get there I have to fly there and that means close to 22 hours on a plane...with snakes...and Samuel L. Jackson. Flying plus layovers will surely put me over the 24 hour mark.

Have you ever seen snakes on a plane?

And you know what they say, all flying and no showers makes Johnnie a smelly boy. I'm not looking forward to it at all. At all. At all. Luckily I am flying with a friend so we can commiserate. The only cool part is that basically I'll be time traveling since I leave on Wednesday and arrive on Friday in Australia. It's literally the closest I'll get to being on the TV show Lost where everyone is all kinds of screwed up about time and people are always asking "When are we?".
Kate: Finger, when are we?
Me: I just proposed to you and you said 'yes'.
Kate: What?
Me: What?
Kate: What?
Me: You don't remember? We crossed the international date line, champagne, the ring, tears, hugs, you said you'd convert to Judaism...
Kate: I really don't recall that.
Me: It's the island Kate. IT'S THIS DAMN ISLAND! It's playing tricks on you.
Kate: Well, I guess, I mean...
Me: Listen, you got a little schmutz on your shirt there. You want my Tide pen? My mom swears by this thing...

And basically that's what I expect to happen when I cross the international date line, or something very very similar to that. I'll be time traveling, bitches, so that's really all I can say about that. Sydney, Cairns, Melbourne here I come. I'll take pictures and make at least three memories. That's a promise.

So see you later all you yabbo sheepshaggers (uncouth New Zealanders) and stickybeaks (nosy people), I'm off to Oz on Wednesday and I'll see you on the flipside unless I of course become a shark biscuit (a shark biscuit).