Surviving My First Two Weeks

Soooo I made it. From Nashville...to LA...to Sydney...to Melbourne. 27 hours of traveling? More like 27 hours of creeping. Here's my plane...yayyy. Thanks again captain for dropping me off early, so I could grab this shot as you pulled in. But Dear Qantas, don't ever fool me again with your logo, "Spirit of Australia". You can't say that if there is a 5 bottle maximum of wine per person. Ahh but thanks Shalala for teaching me always to push the boundaries, troll.

Believe it or not the plane was surprisingly comfortable. Especially after five or six "spirits of australia" when I snuck upstairs and took pictures of rich people sleeping. And cue a Heather Gaines silent scream. The worst parts of the flight were the movies. Invictus, Alice in Shitland, and Valentine's Day. The flight attendant didn't find it amusing when I asked for my money back. In fact, they didn't find anything I did amusing.

So anyway. My first moments in Australia involved me breaking a cart because I had too much luggage, and having a French girl say to me "you like a girl". Great. I see there's no hiding things from you Australia.

So this is where I lived for a week. Well. Lived is a strong word for what went on in that room. Sleeping in a room with French, Italians, Germans, Brits, and Asians was like a United Nations session from Hell that I couldn't escape. I was on the left side. And thank God, for once in my life, choosing the bottom was the right choice.

I've never felt so uprooted as a Subway, KFC, Krispy Kreme, McDonalds, Hungry Jack's, and a 7/11 were all in walking distance. Honestly the week there was all a blur. Quite possibly because I was either jet lagged or drunk the whole time, or because I'm trying to block out the fact that at least 4 different nationalities saw me naked. But lets be honest, I know a bunch of homos with the same problem.

Ahh yes. My first job in Melbourne. How I ever thought that working for a company called "simply energy" was a great idea I'll never know. I have a hard time just "simply surviving" let alone selling electricity to Aussies at their doorstep. Wandering alone around foreign streets in the backcountry of an unfamiliar continent with nothing more than a yellow puff marketing retailer jacket, a folder with contracts, and a cell phone that had maybe 3 numbers in it turned out surprisingly not to be for me. Let alone the fact that the company was corrupt, dodgy, and made me lie to people. Simply energy? More like Simply Fucked. I quit after 2 days on the job. But good news, I met a spunky lesbian with a great dry sense of humor. Somehow I come off as straight here...Australia...shame on you.

Aghh the golden week. Saying goodbye to the Green Backpacker was not hard. Helloooo St Kilda West. I find new reasons to love this area more and more everyday. This is the park a block from my apartment where I scare innocent people as I attempt to run in my eight layers. It's like watching a marshmallow wobble around as if woken from hibernation too soon. But it's the effort that counts right? I have found that living around water is a necessity.

 I share a two bedroom, one bath apartment. No microwave, heat, washing machine, dish washer, or more than 5 channels on the box. It truly is forcing me to experience life at its best. I even checked out a book. Haven't done that since Richter...ahh...too soon. 

Side note. This is what death looks like. It's what they call "goon". I should have listened to my instincts when I saw the word fruity on it and thought nothing but of sin and blasphemy. Regardless. My roommate and myself decided to split a box and hit the town. Although the night was fun, every delayed hangover from every sip of alcohol I've ever had struck me with the force of an overly drunk John Nolan. It was obnoxious, I couldn't escape it, and I just wanted to lie down and cry. Seriously, Havens must have been boozin it during pregnancy cause I felt decades of pain. 

Wednesday night is "Bingo and Booze".  The host being a witty tranny who imitates an avid bingo player teamed with a slew of prizes all involving alcohol is a recipe for the best time of your life. Everyone is after the grand prizes of Disco Jesus and the Gauntlet of Grouge! Politically correct means nothing here. No one is safe from Anna Nicole Smith to Heath Ledger. 

And you can imagine their excitement when they found out an American was in the midst. Now forever known as "Tennessee", I was blamed for the oil spill and for a plot to lynch Obama. I ended up winning nothing. But mark my words Disco Jesus will be coming home with me before Spring. 

Regardless I can tell this is going to be an absolutely amazing time here. I do get homesick occasionally, but I brought some things to remind me of from where I come. So many things to be proud of in America. Missing all of you. Except Amar.