Two Months Too Much Too Soon

     You know. I really was under the impression that "casual" was a good word. Casual dating…casual attire…casual sex…all great things. Casual Employment however is Lucifer's toilet paper. It's about as misleading and disappointing as a Shyamalan movie or Kate Ruebsam's personality who FYI is in fact NOT an ugly gay man. Well after six days of great working hours, Law in Order is short on business, and therefore us "casuals" are not being called in, and lord knows I don't need any more time hanging out with myself. So I'm back on the poor man express. The homeless guy who sits by our tram stop has even stopped asking me for money. Instead he just smiles and waves at me as if he knows we're about to be BFFs in a couple of weeks. I got shortchanged ten bucks at the laundromat last wednesday and with the frustration consuming me I almost started crying when I couldn't get my clothes to fit back in the suitcase. But college has taught me to be an excellent stuffer so no use spilling tears over things that won't fit…….Ginny. 

This is my neighborhood! Ignore the homo ruining the picture. The days are finally getting longer even though my list of friends is not. Just look at them all!

So I'm still applying for new jobs by day. I've applied for just about everything. My favorite had to be an acting role where I submitted a resume with such career experience points as that I was "friends" with theater people in college, and a list of broadway shows that I've seen. To top it off my submitted headshot photo was a Facebook profile pic that may or may not

Nope wasn't this one

have had other people and alcohol in it. Man I'm a winner. But at night, poor or not, it's game on. I always somehow find ways of acquiring booze.              

     So the whole frat look doesn't cut it down here. Before going out one night I'm told, "So America. I don't mean to be insulting but we're gonna need to change your attire. No really. I brought you a change of clothes". Shortly following I was dressed in an incredible ensemble of GStar shoes, tight pants, shirt and jacket. No I don't have a picture...yet. But I looked better than a cheesy gordita crunch served in a natty light can. For some reason I always just assumed I could attract people with my incredible demeanor…oh wait. 

     So continuing on topics I know nothing about…drugs. They are more rampant than Roni Sepe's herpes down here. Seriously. I'm scared to even talk at clubs cause I'm convinced some type of illegal narcotic is just gonna fly in there…amongst other things. So the drugs I've learned the most about are E, K, and G. So naturally assuming always to know more than I do, I figure since I know the alphabet

 I can converse with randos about drugs. "Man my ass was flying on all that M I took last night. I'm actually really into V". Yes, these are real words out of my mouth. If only they knew how many times I overdosed on TMTS in college…Kristin am I right?! But I find I fit right in with the whole drug culture. I love to binge eat at night, I like shiny objects, and no one gets more excited than me being handed a lollipop at a club...except maybe Amar...BHH.

     But Australia is still just as weird as when I got here. The accent has become far less noticeable but there are indeed times when someone is talking to me in "English" and I have no idea what they are saying. Cobbers, galahs, fair dinkum, mozzies, and budgie smugglers. A toilet is called a thunderbox, and I'll just let you imagine what "floggin the wagon" means. And no it's not what John Nolan does alone...every...single...night. And I still think everyone wants to be my best friend when they call me mate. But the asians are a serious issue. I was minding my own business on a tram when it was overrun by spiky haired engrish speakers who had just been released from Inception. Regardless the movie is ruined. Shortly after exiting the tram there was a wind storm…followed by a hail storm…then sunshine. And no I'm not just talking about what goes on in Heather Gaines' bedroom.

     But pray I start making real money soon. Given that being me on a daily basis is an adventure in itself I need to start making real stories. I refuse to be forgotten by my american friends. You know. Like that guy that pops up under your Facebook birthdays and you sit there debating if you want to write on their wall. That better NEVER be me. EVER. Shut ya gob, mate!