...It would seem reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated (I'm looking at you, Spanish Daniel). Yes, despite the best efforts of the world's deadliest continent to boil me to death, the flying crocodiles Jason and I encountered and the spider I found in my coat this morning, I am still entwined within this mortal coil.
But then why have I not been updating?!, you cry, because you're easily excitable; the answer is simple: I was saving it for a christmas present. I was gonna tell you all the exciting things I've been doing this holiday on christmas day itself, thereby rendering that day of days even extra specialer. But you all moaned and whined and lamented and whinged and cried and sneezed and wailed and shrieked and screamed and shouted (Jari was especially bad) that, like that new parent who just wants their infant to shut its freaking face, I'm letting you have your christmas presents early. Lucky you. (especially you, Jari.)
Firstly, apologies to Rachael Murray, who I honestly thought would never read this blog: at least it shows I'm thinking about you (more than what's his face at any rate- you know, the one with the hair). I imagine I'm banned from any Bedlam parties this year. Boo hoo.
Secondly, what have I actually been doing? Well, dear reader(s?), I've really only done one or two uniquely Australian things in the past few weeks. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've been having a ball, but in mostly very conventional ways (cinema trips, coffees with friends, toffees with enemies, banoffees with frenemies): however, I did accompany Jersey Shore (AKA Neato Duh AKA Jason) to the Victorian Parliament House for a tour that was nowhere near as lame as I was expecting. The building really is rather spectacular, with something ridiculous like $6 million worth of gold leaf on the walls, and is mercifully air conditioned: did you know that the Victorian Parliament still has a sergeant at arms present at all meetings in case someone tries to kill the speaker? They're armed with a golden mace: the current sergeant is a 5'1 woman, and honestly the mace is almost as tall as her. I'm not kidding. They also have brains in their street lamps, though they refuse to acknowledge this.
The other ozzie undertaking I undertook was to attend a pool party at one Milly Raso's. A pool party. In the middle of december. Try and get your head around that, ya bloody poms! It was very fun, cos we got to see Neato take his first dip into a pool. And I actually didn't try and submerge him at any point. I'm quite proud of myself for that.
Thirdly, I have been alluding to it throughout this post, and you've no doubt all been pondering on it, so I'll just go ahead and spit it out: it's bloody boiling. Christ on a bike, but it is hot. And it's gonna be hot for a long time to come. I now know why slow-cooking turkeys don't just up and out the oven: it's too friggin' hot to move. Like, seriously. It just saps your energy. I mean, I saw a flash mob the other day and I honestly woulda joined, if not for the forty degree heat. I left them to their sweaty fun and chilled in a lord of the fries (it gets mention on this blog just cos I love the name).
This heat has allowed for some relevations: a) it is fucking amazing that Australians are so unilaterally pale, b) air conditioning should not be a privilege but a RIGHT, protected by Geneva and all and c) Ozzie bartenders cannot prepare pimms to save their lives. One actually tried to serve it to me straight, no lemonade or nothing. I put her in her place. My antipodean pals have naturally never heard of Pimms, and think me a silly beggar for drinking it when there are perfectly good stubbies to be had, but they can suck a lemon. After they've put it in my pimms, which is served with lemonade, ya daftie.
There is more to tell, and I will do so in part 2, expected some time this evening. I will also post some time tomorrow on the advancements made by Blank Slate theatre, which I know you're all salivating to hear, and there is a video which I just can't wait to show you. Well, evidently I can wait, because I am. But, yes, fun times ahead. Get excited.
And Daniel, stop declaring me dead, please. It's frustrating.
I did nothing.
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