Archive for June, 2005

Last night in paradise

June 28th, 2005 at 09:37 am

It’s 2335 on Tuesday night and I’m here in Sydney with Hannah, Keeley, Simon, Tim, and Tom celebrating my last night here. I head to the airport tomorrow morning and go home after four of the best months of my life. I’m only at an Internet cafe now, so I will upload a longer post once my plane lands in the states and I can find an Internet cafe in the airport.

I still don’t want to leave. At all. Not one single ounce…or gram I should say =) I’m gonna miss you guys heaps.

Drunk 02

June 24th, 2005 at 12:14 pm

THEY KICKEDME OUT OF CUASTOMES!

FUCK THE NAZIS! NERI, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU WATCHHIN GOVER ME!?

Five days left in Newcastle.

June 23rd, 2005 at 02:11 am

Per Stan’s request, I’ll try not to wait a freaking week to upload the next batch of songs. Maybe the fact that one of his songs made the list will make him happy.

60 - Collective Soul - Perfect to Stay
59 - The Matrix 2 - Burly Brawl
58 - Stan Gable - The Goob Song
57 - Art of Fighting - Reasons Are All That I Have
56 - Aerosmith - Janie’s Got A Gun
55 - Remember The Titans - End Theme
54 - John Mayer - Why Georgia
53 - Final Fantasy 7 - Ending Theme
52 - Trans-Siberian Orchestra - A Mad Russian Scientist
51 - Final Fantasy 7 - Aeris

My time remaining is Australia is drastically low. It’s currently Thursday afternoon, I leave Newcastle Tuesday morning, and fly back to the states Wednesday afternoon. The only thing that runs through my head when I think about these is:

I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.

There is so much here that I want to stay for. But I’ll save my sappy post for right before I leave, because I don’t want to get all emotional right now. I’ve already written most of it, cried once or twice, and tried not to think about it. Which is why, starting last night, I’m going out in true Aussie fashion. Neri and myself managed to get a bit inebriated. The escapade continues tonight seeing as Hannah finishes with her exams this afternoon. Tomorrow night we’re going out for one last night on the town, followed by Saturday’s gigantic Farewell Bash for Dutchy and Luke.

Sunday will be spent thanking God that I’m still alive and apologizing to my liver. Monday will see me wrapping up my affairs here and Tuesday it’s off to Sydney. So, if over the course of the next week, updates are sparse or slightly influenced by alcomohol, please forgive me. I’m just wanting to make sure I enjoy my last week in Australia.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go find some grog.

Not quite top of the world, but close enough.

June 22nd, 2005 at 11:58 pm

The first time I ever ventured to Australia, my family and I managed to stay in Sydney and mimic the stereotypical tourist right down to the camera hanging from around our necks. We hit up all the shopping districts, ran around the zoo before it closed on evening, and of course sat outside and gazed upwards at the majestic Sydney Opera House while letting escape a barely audible “whoa.” And it was there, outside the Opera House, that Clay and Waynus noticed tiny blips on the horizon that seemed to be moving across the bridge nearby. Or should I say, moved across the arches of the bridge. We asked a few people what they were doing and they pointed us to some brochures for the Sydney Harbor Bridge Climb. Unfortunately, we were leaving the next day and didn’t have any time to conquer the bridge, but we all agreed that it looked incredibly fun and exciting.

A few weeks back, I was talking to my mom on MSN, trying to set my hectic schedule for when I return stateside, when she asked if I remember seeing the people climb the bridge. “Of course I do,” I told her, “How could I have forgotten that? I actually thought about doing it while I was over here now, but there’s no way I can afford it.” When she replied that she had bought me a ticket for my graduation present, my jaw literally dropped.

I caught a train down to Sydney this past Tuesday with Karen since she was heading down to meet up with a friend of hers. We passed the time chatting and enjoying the scenery and before I knew it, I had made two train transfers and was standing in the middle of Sydney Harbor. I had arrived at noon and my climb wasn’t until quarter after 3, so I found a little Thai restaurant, picked up some lunch, and went to sit by the water and eat. It was quite relaxing, almost tranquil, despite the hundreds of people continually walking and talking around me. Before I knew it, I had pulled out my notebook and written for two hours straight. A Shyzer post or two, countless postcards, and a few pages for my private journal were soon completed from start to finish. You can never ignore those rare and sudden inspirations to write and it was something about being in Sydney, completely alone and content, that brought it on.

The time to head over to the bridge eventually rolled around, however, and so I made my way there and checked in. I was pointed to a waiting room where I met the rest of the members in my group. There was the mom and two daughters, the youngest of which was celebrating her twelfth birthday and quite hilarious. When we were going around the room and introducing myself, she giggled when I said my name was Goob and then made one of those quite gasps of excitement when I said I was from the states. She was even more thrilled when she learned I grew up in the state next to Georgia, which she reminded me was Martin Luther King’s home state. There was also the couple from London, the trio from Munich who struck up a conversation with me over my Oktoberfest T-shirt, and finally the bloke from Scotland with what might have been the thickest Scottish accent I have ever heard. I made sure I was next to him on the climb, simply so I could listen to him talk as much as possible.

After gearing up, going over the safety procedures, and practicing using the equipment, we were off to march to the top of the bridge. As we began to mount the bridge, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sights. Straight ahead was nothing but gray steel which looked insurmountable. To your right was the harbor and Opera House while to your left was more of the harbor and a gorgeous view of the sun setting. And straight behind you was the city, skyscrapers and all. My mom had bought me a ticket for the Twilight Climb, which meant that on the way up we would get to watch the sun set while on the way down we could watch as the moon rose into the night sky. Every 30 meters or so, we’d stop to gaze around and take in the views for 10 minutes or so before climbing just a little higher. As we rose up, one of the noticeable differences was the sound. Right when we started, the cars and trains were almost directly beneath us, roars across the bridge and flooding your ears with their sounds. But as we went up, the noise slowly faded to a soft hum; the type of peaceful hum that a parent makes deep in their chest as they rock their child to sleep.

As it grew darker, you could also see the sparks of camera flashes going off across the harbor. Every few seconds you would see the glitter of one and I couldn’t help but think every time that somewhere, in more than a few photo albums across the globe, there would be a picture of the bridge with twelve little dots on it and if any of them were taken with a high resolution or high zoomed camera, they might even pick up the huge grin that was spread across my face. Another event we could watch unfold before us was the awakening off all the lights within the city. Slowly, each and every one of them grumbled to life, casting forth a dull glow before finally growing into bright, little dots. Slowly, but surely, the horizon began to dip lower and lower before shrinking to the point were we could see over it, out into the Pacific Blue. Huge tankers, no bigger than a quarter of my finger nail, sparsely covered the sea, but for the most part it was nothing but water. And I know this might sound cliche, but I truly have never seen water quite as deep blue as that from the harbor and ocean. It looked as if it would swallow anybody who ventured into it; as if it would wrap around you and somehow make you warm. I had almost convinced myself that it would somehow protect me from hypothermia if I so decided to take a little swim afterwards.

When we finally reached the apex, we must have stopped and looked around for at least half an hour. Our guide reminded us that we were 134 meters above sea level, which translates into 439 feet or a 5.2 second fall. The thousands of people on the ground below looked like miniature fleas they were so small. The boats directly beneath us looked like the toys I used to play with in the bathtub as a child. Ok, who am I kidding, the toys I still play with from time to time in the bathtub. The skyscrapers looked like matchsticks, each tipped with a different colorful logo on the top, ready to be plucked one by one from some hand out of the sky. But probably one of the most impressive views was the Opera House itself. The ground around it is brown and of course the House itself is made in such a unique shape that every time I looked at it, I was reminded of sea shells jutting from the beach back home. Every time we would go to the beach for our yearly vacation, my mom would pay me 5 cents for each shell I found and collected so that she could make some sort of design or ornament with them back home.

As we made our way down, the night grew darker, the cars grew louder, and the buildings grew larger. We continued to stop and take in the sights and by the time I made it back to the bottom, all I wanted to do was turn around and venture back to the top again. It wasn’t until I was on the train home, napping to pass the time that I realized how tired my legs were and how physically exhausting it was. But if somebody asked me to do it again, the next words out of my mouth would be “what time?!”

Thanks Mom and Jeff. That’s an experience I will truly never forget.

I Miss Harry Doyle

June 20th, 2005 at 02:36 pm

In case you haven’t noticed (and judging by the attendance, you haven’t!), the new batch of songs is up:

70 - La Bouche - Do You Hear What I Hear?
69 - Seven Moore - Touch
68 - Dave Matthews Band - Stay or Leave
67 - Gustav Holst - Mars
66 - Guns N’ Roses Paradise City
65 - Foo Fighters - Me Hero
64 - Blink 182 - Aliens Exist
63 - POTUS - Peaches
62 - Dashboard Confessional - The Brilliant Dance
61 - Toad the Wet Sprocket - Walk on the Ocean

They speak English…sort of.

June 17th, 2005 at 07:43 pm

I’ve mentioned before how I purchased a small notepad to carry around with me wherever I went. Well, one of the things I used it for besides jotting down grocery lists and updating my Hit List (Mike Novak, you better watch your back!) was keeping track of all the different words that are used over here. But before I delve deeper into this, I want to say two things. (1) I’ll probably misspell a few of the Australian counterparts for these words. I’ve had brekkie spelled three different ways to me on MSN (brekkie, brekky, brecky) and so, I’ve just chosen the method with which I’ve been spelling them in my journal every night. And (2) when I say that these words aren’t used back home, I’m almost certain that I’ll get a comment from somebody in some place like Montana or Mississippi saying “Hey, what are you talking about?! We use that all the time here!” Like Australia, America can be extremely regional when it comes to language. Therefore, when I state we don’t use these words, I mean we neither use them regularly in the South or in popular culture, such as music, TV, or movies. Okay? So, with that disclaimer taken care of…

Root.

Tell me, dear friends, when you hear the above word, what do you think of? I can already assure you that if you are reading this while in America, you are thinking to yourself, “the crap in the ground that soaks up water for trees” while if you are reading this while in Australia, you are giggling and / or blushing and /or thinking of the person you have the hots for. Why the difference? Because here, it is one of the most commonly used terms for sex. As you can guess, this lead to some confusion for me when I first heard the term being used, but I’ll save that story for later. I told it for my audition for We’ll Make an Aussie Out of You and I don’t want to give away all the funny parts before you all get a chance to watch it (which should be soon after I return stateside!)

Some of the many words that are commonly shortened to end in “ie” or “y.”

Australian Word
American Equivalent
Comments

Chewie Gum
Brekkie Breakfast One of the few words from this family I actually use now.

Mozzie Mosquitoes
Uni University Again, I use this word now all the time.

Lollies Candy Any type of candy, not just lollipops, are generally called lollies over here.

Esky Cooler
Footy Football (rugby)
Sunnies Sunglasses
Words that are commonly shortened to end in “o.”

Arvo Afternoon This is by far the most common one heard. Took me a while to figure out what in the hell they were talking about.

Airco Air conditioning
Servo Gas station
Foods

Snag Sausage
Biscuit Cookie
Rockmelon Cantaloupe Every time I tell people what we call rockmelon, they look at me funny and ask, “isn’t that some kind of animal in Africa?” “No,” I tell them, “that’s an Antelope.” Crazy Aussies…

Capsicum Bell Pepper
Muesli bars Granola bars Am I the only person who thinks muesli bars sounds like some sort of bar covered in mucus?

Chook Chicken
Grog Beer I just like the sound of this word.

Everyday items / places.

Rubbish Trash Not really sure why it’s called rubbish, but so be it.

Thongs Sandals Again, this led to some very confusing thoughts going through my head the first few days I was here.

Docket Receipt
Torch Flashlight When I first heard somebody say they needed a torch, I of course envisioned a thick stick with a flaming rag dipped in oil at the top. Unfortunately, they were simply talking about a flashlight.

Ute Pickup truck These are actually not pickup trucks in our sense, but their version of them. Picture an el camino and that’s basically what they are.

College Dorms Here, college means dorms. So basically, I go to Newcastle Uni and live in Edwards College. I know, it’s confusing.

Fag Cigarette I think I might have remotely heard of this one back home, but if so, it was through a book or song. Certainly not through casual conversation.

Full stop Period They use the same terms for question and exclamation marks, but instead of saying period, they say “full stop.” Retarded, isn’t it? =)

Bench Counter top Instead of a “kitchen counter,” it’s called a “kitchen bench.”

Mobile Cell phone Yeah, they say mobile. I was expecting that to be the case, but it still sounds funny.

Petrol Gasoline Again, this was another word I was expecting them to use, but still found funny to hear all the time.

Fringe Hair Bangs For some reason I feel as if Fringe is strictly Australian, or at least non-American, yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve heard the term used before back home.

Big W (pronounced Big Dub) Wal Mart Big Dub is Wal Mart. They have the exact same store layouts, the exact same yellow smiley face icon, the exact same rollback signs, etc. But Hannah takes offense any time I say I need to go to Wal Mart, because she points out that Big Dub does NOT sell guns, which apparently is what makes a Wal Mart.

Maccas McDonalds Again, in true Aussie spirit, they shortened the name of McDonalds.

Hungry Jacks Burger King They still use the old Burger King logo over here with the name in-between two buns, but the name of the company is actually called Hungry Jacks. I have no idea why they use a different name, but it’s the same logo and everything as Burger King.

Terms

Heaps A lot Back home, when talking about a large amount of things, people tend to use phrases such as “a lot,” “a ton,” ” a bunch,” etc. Over here, it’s “heaps.” Just don’t ever say “I had a heaps go,” because that doesn’t make any sense. =)

Whinge Bitch and moan When complaining about something, it’s called “having a whinge” or “whinging.”

D & M Deep & Meaningful Whenever people have a serious conversation about anything personal, it’s considered having a “D & M.” Hannah likes to have these while drunk.

Pash Kiss A trust me, you don’t want to know what a Rainbow Pash is.

Dag Nerd
Skull Chug Used just like chug back home. When you’re middy is almost empty, you simply skull it and get another.

Pissed Drunk Back home, pissed usually means “angry,” but can be used to mean “drunk.” Over here, the usage of the word is flipped. If somebody says they are pissed, most of the time they are referring to a state of intoxication.

Got the shits Angry For a while, I thought when people were saying they had the shits, it meant they…well…they were spending an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom.

Bogan White trash? I don’t really know how to properly explain this. It’s a term basically used for somebody who is uneducated, lazy and dresses in old, crappy clothes.

Fanny Um… This doesn’t refer to the backside, like back home, but instead to the front side.

Zed Z They say every letter like we do, but when it comes to Z, they simply say “zed.” I have no idea why.

Bags To call something. For example, if you were walking out to the car with your friends, you might shout “Bags shotgun!”

Couldn’t be bothered Don’t feel like it If you don’t feel like doing something, you just say “I couldn’t be bothered.”

Mate Friend, Buddy Yes, they use this word all the time. Just not in the stereotypical “G’day mate” voice that we are accustomed to hearing back home in movies. I rather love this word now, as well.

So there you have it. I’m sure I left off a few words, so I’ll come back here and update this list as I remember them.

Australia is the best continent on the EAAAAAARTH!

June 15th, 2005 at 07:15 pm

As promised, we’ve got some updated material here on Shyzer. First, let me point you in the direction of the gallery. Two sections in the Aussie folder received updates, the Random Functions and Corridor Collection folders. The Random Functions have some new photos from Josh’s Last Dinner while the Corridor Collection received over 100 new photos, started on page 2. There’s some great stuff in there of me goofing off, so don’t just think this is for my mates over here to enjoy. All you people stateside, get your asses in there!

In addition to those, two new folders were created which I think contain some of the best photos ever. First, there is the College Ball, which was just a huge dance where all the colleges (which means dorms) got together wearing their ugliest clothing. The other folder contains pictures from Josh’s Going Away Party which was one of the craziest nights of my life, mainly because I drank about three liters of goon. I felt it was only fair since Josh was being forced to drink a bottle of rum that I, as his American brethren, get piss drunk with him.

The only problem with this was that I didn’t stop drinking once I became drunk, something that I usually do. This led to some sort of crazy channeling of my inner spirit, thereby giving me to energy of ten oxen. And I’m talking about those big, blue oxen from the Paul Bunyan tales, not those crappy oxen that always drowned in Oregon Trail whenever you tried to cross the rivers. As Adam put it best, “Dude, you were like Jim Carey on speed.”

I would go outside, run around for a bit, come back inside, dance, hug and kiss people, and repeat. One of the RAs that was there told me later the next day, “You were doing so many things that were wrong, but nobody had the heart to stop you. You were just having way too much fun. You had more energy than any drunk person I’ve ever seen too. We’d all just be standing there and then this blur would scorch by and fly off into the bush. Even Boof was sitting there shaking his head and he’s the local drunk! I haven’t seen somebody that drunk in years…”

During one of my excursions away from the party, I found a picnic table and felt that would be a good place to take a nap. After being found and helped back to the party, I again dashed off and took a nap in the bush. This time, Emma brought along her digital camera, set it to movie mode, and…well…see for yourself…

“Artica can blow me!” - Goob’s video clip.

I think my favorite part of that video is right at the very beginning when they scare me as I awaken and I scream “SCARY PEOPLE!” Good times indeed.

Also, I’m not sure if people noticed or not, but the media page received an update about a week ago. Hannah came home from town extremely drunk and so I felt it was only fair if I started recording her. Seven minutes worth of footage later, I sat down to try and test my movie making skills for I have a third site on the horizon that I may start at the end of the summer that will require me to make videos. Anyways, if you’ve got some time and want to laugh at a drunk person, go watch Hannah while she is drunk.

So what’s next for Shyzer? The lingo post should be next (I have two questions that I need to ask a specific person before I upload it. I don’t want to be completely wrong about something), the Aussie Cast page will be revamped by week’s end, AND remember that movie I said I filmed for the local film class? Well, they’ve finished editing it and I’m heading over there today to pick up a copy. If at all possible, I’ll post that as soon as I can, just as long as I can get it onto my computer. Until then, enjoy the assorted media.

Is this for real?

June 14th, 2005 at 06:41 pm

I am off to take the final exam of my college career. After that, I am picking up my parcel from my mom, enjoying a short nap, finishing all my Shyzer updates, and then PAR-TA-ING.

Hey, big man upstairs, whoever you are. Thanks for such a wonderful life.

I can’t See how this could happen

June 11th, 2005 at 03:34 pm

21 comments on the previous entry? I must say that is certainly Kick Ass.

If you’re squeamish when it comes to the ocular region, I would suggest skipping the next five paragraphs. You’ve been warned.

A few days back, I was sitting here typing when my left eye started to twitch with the all too familiar feeling of having caught a piece of dust between my eye and contact. I closed my eyes and swirled them around in a circular motion for a few seconds to try and reset my contacts, but it was useless. Whatever I had stuck in there was going to need some tears to flush it out and so I again closed my eyes and started to rub on the outside of my eyelid. After ten seconds of this, the rubbing coupled with the pain was enough to trigger my tear ducts into action and viola, I had a misty left eye. As I opened my eye and blinked in an effort to regain focus, I noticed something was off. The contact was not in place.

I could immediately feel it up behind my eyelid, but again, I wasn’t worried for this happens every so often anyways. The best way to remove it is to again close your eyes and move them in a circular motion. Since your eye is curved to begin with, the movement in one direction sweeps the contact down and when you open your eye, it hanging right there for removal and cleaning. So, I got to sweeping and was met with pitiful results. The contact was still behind my eyelid, but somehow it had moved further up and, I swear to God, almost behind my eyeball. I could literally feel it in the top corner of my eye, almost directly above my nose and this is around the time where “Oh shit, what the hell is going on” mode kicked in.

I dashed to the mirror and began lifting my eyelid, trying to figure out just what in the world was going on. This, my friends, had never happened to me before and I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of a contact going MIA and floating around my insides. I stood in front of the mirror for a full ten minutes rubbing, swirling, and scratching and got nothing. The water works were going in full gear by this point as I had effectively irritated the living hell out of my eye, turning it into a molten fireball of redness. I could no longer feel the contact whatsoever, but I was certain it never fell out. Still, I dropped to my knees and searched the ground for a bit to make sure. My fears were soon confirmed as I found no trace of a contact whatsoever.

So here I sit, five days later, and I still have no idea what happened to that contact. From time to time I can feel a little pinch in my nasal passage, similar to the feeling you get when you have a mild cold. I swear the contact is still back in there and while I may be no medical doctor, my guess would be that it can’t be healthy for me. My guess is that one day far down the road I’m going to be blowing my nose and out pops a little contact. If so, you can expect many cool pictures and a complete recap.

And I swear to God, if one more person makes a “can you see your brain?!” joke, I’m gonna stab them with a blunt spoon.

Anyway, new batch of songs are up. Listen, enjoy, and stick around to see just what in the hell these things are for.

80 - Boxcar Racer - Letters to God
79 - Bruce Springsteen - Streets of Philadelphia
78 - Bruce Springsteen - Dancing in the Dark
77 - Dashboard Confessional - Remember to Breathe
76 - Craig David - Fill Me In
75 - Dave Matthews Band - Grace is Gone
74 - Jason Mraz - Tonight, Not Again
73 - Shania Twain - You’ve Got a Way
72 - Marshall Tucker Band - Long Hard Ride
71 - Marshall Tucker Band - Take the Highway

Life is full of the little things

June 8th, 2005 at 02:40 pm

When I came here to Australia, one of my initial goals for Shyzer was to try and catalog all the strange and monumental differences between home and here. However, amazingly enough, there weren’t that many huge differences. Sure, they drive on the other side of the road and yes, they can be a bit weird at times, but I sure know I have my moments when I’m weird and hell, I even drive on the wrong side of the road every now and then just for kicks. So, instead, I started trying to notice the subtle differences. I bought a small notepad and carried it around with me everywhere I went, jotting down every little thing I notice. Here are some of the most interesting ones so far.

First off, let’s get the biggest difference out of the way. NO SQUIRRELS! Not a single squirrel to be seen. Back home, a walk across campus will result in the sighting of a minimum of 19 squirrels, two of who will be procreating. So, you can see why it’s so odd to have such a lack of the little squirrelly guys here.

Contrary to popular belief back home, there are actually three different styles of rugby. There are three leagues over here, AFL, Union, and League, and each of them are completely different. The worst style in my opinion is League. Basically it consists of teams finding the strongest men possible and trying to force your way down the field. There is very little, if any, strategy involved and frankly, I can’t understand how anybody could watch this. The entire game consists of 15 men just running into each other over and over. It’s fun for all of 34 seconds.

The next best would be Union. This is what we back home consider rugby, what with the scrums and style of play that we see on movies and television all the time. I would easily rank this leaps and bounds over League because Union is essentially League with some skill and strategy added to the mixture. Both are played on roughly the same size field as gridiron back home and the goal is to try and get a touchdown (called a “try”) at the other end of the field, just like in gridiron. However, in Union, players don’t just run into the opposing players and try to barrel their way through. If they can’t find a hole, they’ll pass it backwards or kick it forwards or do whatever is necessary to try and keep the play alive. However, one major weakness in both League and Union is that most of the players in these leagues are horrible at catching. It’s not uncommon to drop 25% of the passes thrown to you, but you have to remember, these throws are coming from your teammates in front of you who are simply turning around and tossing the ball back to you!

The best version is easily AFL to me. First off, the field itself is about the size of one and a half soccer fields, at least. Players are allowed to run with, kick, and throw the ball, but since there is much more ground to cover, the level of strategy involved is raised ten fold. The teams actually run plays and, unlike their League and Union counterparts, AFL players can catch! At the same time, this is still rugby folks, so there are plenty of crushing blows landed on players from time to time. Think soccer fused with gridiron and that’s what AFL is. In order to score, a player has to kick the ball between four poles on the other side of the field. Make it through the middle two and you earn six points. Make it through one of the middle two and one of the outer two and you earn less points. I went to an AFL game down in Sydney and had the time of my life! Most people here in Newcastle hate AFL and watch League, but I honestly have no idea how people can’t enjoy AFL. I’ll forever swear by the fact that AFL could easily come to America and become popular. If there’s any way to pick it up on Direct TV or anything, I’d certainly buy the package needed just to watch it. It’s a fantastic sport.

You might have noticed me saying gridiron previously, and that’s because the NFL is known as gridiron over here. Whenever the topic of gridiron is brought up, I’m always asked the same question. “Why do they wear so much padding?!?” I try to explain that besides the helmet and shoulder pads, the padding isn’t significant and that in essence, the padding can actually make the hits harder, but most people don’t understand. There’s a general consensus that the game is boring as well because it starts and stops way too much. I again counter with the fact that the reason for this is because the game is much more complicated than they realize and that you simply cannot just run into people. It’s a sport designed to make holes and exploit weaknesses, not hit the big men in front of you. But alas, few people here understand and I tend to move the topic onto something else.

One thing that I was really shocked about was that most people here HATE soccer! I figured that the entire world minus America was fanatical over soccer, but I assumed incorrectly. I’ve found maybe two or three people that follow European soccer and that’s about it.

Cricket is also pretty big here, but more on the International scene. And baseball is all but non-existant. However, unlike football, baseball seems to be generally respected. One of the best quotes I was told about baseball was from a kid complaining about trying to bat. “They don’t give you enough time to hit the ball,” he told me. “They just chuck it right at you! The guy on the hill throws the ball and less than a half second later, the play is over. How am I supposed to hit that?!” I just laughed and smiled. Glad to see that I’m not the only person who has trouble with the fastballs!

With regards to the beverages here, there is one big difference. They have this stuff called cordial and it’s basically flavored water. You can buy lemon, lime, apple, etc. flavored cordial and all you do is mix it with water. It’s not like Kool-Aide because there is very little, if any, sugar in it. So, you can imagine how tasteful it is for Americans. Every time I go to dinner and take a sip, I wonder to myself, “where the hell’s the sugar?”

Almost every major American softdrink is sold over here, with the exception of one. I have yet to find a single person who likes Dr. Pepper, and I’ve asked every single person on the Ozzie Cast Page. Apparently it was brought over here in the mid-90s and sales were so poor, that they stopped making it within a few years. Everybody I ask about it responds with the same thing. “It tastes like cough syrup!!”

One random thing that I’ve noticed from actually going to class is the size of notebook paper. Over here, it’s about 3/4 an inch longer than what we use back home. I brought a USC 5 subject notebook with me to use and when I first started getting handouts, I noticed they stuck out of the pockets. I looked around and sure enough, all the notebook paper over here is longer than ours. Also, it’s punched in a much different way than ours. We have the customary three holes down the side. The paper here has about seven. Most notebooks are either 2-ring or 5-ring, so to accommodate both of these, they punch the paper with seven holes. It looks funny to say the least.

Onto entertainment, there are a few shows that surprised me with regard to their lack of popularity. For starters, not many people here watch the Simpsons; maybe 20%. It’s not hated in any way, it simply isn’t that well liked. Now Friends and Seinfeld, on the other hand, seem to be hated with a passion. Most people admit that the humor in Seinfeld is completely over their head, which I can understand. But the hatred of Friends kinda surprised me, especially when you consider the fact that the British version of Couplings is well liked over here. As far as American shows that are loved, well LOST and The O.C. easily top the list. Family Guy, Scrubs, and Futurama are not far behind. (yeah I know, Futurama. That show sucked!)

When it comes to speech, they shorten almost every word to end in either “ie,” “y,” or “o.” Breakfast is brekkie. A can of beer is a tinny. Afternoon is arvo. It’s quite annoying, but I have to admit, it starts to catch on.

One common speech pattern that doesn’t grow on you, however, is how they tend to not complete a sentence. For instance, let’s say that it’s extremely hot outside. Well, if an Australian was describing the weather, they would most likely say, “Oh, it’s hot as out there.” My response is usually something along the lines of, “HOT AS WHAT?! YOU KEEP FORGETTING TO COMPARE IT TO SOMETHING ELSE!” That still irks the hell out of me!

There are payphones everywhere here, which is no longer the case back home. Bellsouth swooped in and removed all the public phones five or six years ago, but here, Telstra is still going strong with them. Also, all cell phones are done on a pay-per-minute plan. People buy a cell phone and then buy minutes as they go along. They pay, say, $30 bucks and whenever they run out, they just add more minutes. There are no monthly plans like we have back home and I just find that odd.

And speaking of phones, the phone systems here makes about as much sense as a President Bush press conference. It’s amazingly complicated to make a simple phone call in this country. First off, phone numbers can be however long they want and I’m not talking about area codes and whatnot. I’m looking at a receipt right now that has advertisements on the back. Want some Dominos? Then call 131-888. Want someone to come clean your carpets? Then call 4954-2600. Why does this number have an extra two digits? WHO THE HELL KNOWS! No seriously, nobody here even notices shit like this. I’ve asked at least five people and they just shrug and give me the “who cares as long as I get my pizza on time” face. But the fun doesn’t stop there. Oh no. When I was down in Sydney, I noticed a sign advertising a realty company, whose number started with 999. The other digits? 5359. I turned to the guy next to me and asked why that number had seven digits and his reply was, “Uh…because that’s what the phone company gave them!” Thanks, douche bag, I thought they just picked those numbers out of a hat and then magically it became his phone number! Seriously, it makes no sense whatsoever.

My next installment later this week will feature a list of Australian words and their American counterpart. After that will be my review on how they do classes over here. If you have anything else you’d like me to write about, then drop me a line in the comments!