Maclean Makes it a Month

Nope. Still haven't been deported yet. I can't believe it's been a month since I was rolled into this city. Speaking of which. Now go with me on this one, but it's the first trick Melbourne played on me. Okay so imagine having just gotten off your third connecting flight after days of traveling with two four hour energies and countless airplane mini bottles in your stomach. You're delirious, you can't see straight (as if I ever could), you're drunk, confused, and dazed. Basically you're Kristin Wright on any given night in the Grove. The first picture here on the left is the iconic "Batman Building" of downtown Nashville. It's the main landmark of the city. Now the second picture is of Melbourne Central.

Holy similarity is right. There was a good 20 seconds on the bus ride into the city where I thought I had just endured the worst joke ever. But luckily not even Heather Gaines could pull something over me of this magnitude. Regardless I had a horrified face that must have scared everyone on the bus, if my mammoth sized duffle bags that kept attacking people after every slightest turn hadn't already.  But it was the first of many tricks to come.  Next would be the 4 seasons in a day trick, basically the weather here suffers from multiple personality disorder. Followed by the trick of the goon...then the trick of the Simply Fucked. Everyone including myself is getting excited about what's going to happen in the Glee finale coming here in 10 days...oh wait...tricked again...I've already seen it...twice.

The most recent trick happened last Thursday morning. I turned on the tube and this little fox was waving at me as my new prime minister. Now I knew that Kevin Rudd was the PM when I got here, and I felt safe knowing that he was an old white guy. But son of a ranga out of what kitchen did this woman march?! Now I thought Obama was progressive...but I guess I was tricked again. The public did not actually vote for her; she was placed in power from within the party. I can't imagine if this had happened back home. If during the next presidential address suddenly Hilary Clinton popped from behind the podium screaming surprise, well, then maybe

I'd have more people come visit me in Australia. But I suppose I can handle a ginger who from Whoville as the prime mistress. Thank God she's against gay marriage, or we would have a real problem on our hands.
    So this disturbing little image to the right is what all the cigarette packs have on them. Yes. That is a dead baby in a pool of blood. How lovely that I see it daily. I find that the "shock factor" is hard to find here. After refusing to give

her money yesterday, I had a homeless woman call me a "povo slut" audibly in front of everyone on the tram. I quite appreciated it. I only wish the homeless back in Miami were so funny and witty.
    But in the category of things that do scare me are the skinny jeans for men. Thank God I can't afford to eat because they are a staple here. Everyone and their gay boyfriend wears them. I was convinced to try on a pair this weekend, but I screamed in the changing room because I thought I was turning into a Jonas brother. I'm not quite ready to look like an albino poor man's version of Josh Garcia just yet. Camel toe...more like Camel hoof, leg, and an oversized ass.

My favorite new Melbourne past time is definitely footy. My boys are the St. Kilda Saints. Never being graced with the sports gene myself, I'm amazed at how this sport combines every ball sport I know. It's intense, engaging, sometimes quick, sometimes long, and leaves you screaming...much like...umm...a good debate with your mates. But seriously it's got heaps of history and local rivalry. And since no one wants a popsicle in Winter it keeps

             me busy. Anyway. I really am trying to become adapted to the Aussie culture. This lovely beverage to the left is known as Victoria Bitter, and no I'm not talking about the lesbian next to me. But after a swallow it's definitely not something I want to put in my mouth again...I'll let you distinguish which one I'm talking about now. And yes the lovely new haircut was a result of a pregame gathering before we headed out to the pub. They think I am too "innocent" and "boyish", imagine that, so after a few drinks I handed over the scissors...and the innocence. So now I can continue to do my mating call by means of the single lady dance in style.

But being so povo I haven't been able to venture out more than to local attractions and pubs. But as Avatar is coming to the local theater here July 10th, I have plenty to which to look forward. And having traveled all the way from Nashville, I'm taking up the guitar and becoming a country singer. It's all part of the master plan to marry a lesbian and get a permanent residency. The band's name is Aretha and the Oompa. If you have to ask...

But as always I'm missing everyone...except Amar. And speaking of things with which you don't want around, it's so cold in the apartment I can see my breath. I hate the cold. Send the warmth my way...please. And Hurricane Alex. But keep the oil...and Justin Bieber.  Cheers!

Don't be stupid. Of course that's me...