Turning Kiwi...

Ok, to start this story off - Mike and I are currently living in a house of 15 very different residents, varying from Brazilian buskers to Korean adoptees with H cup breasts. This house is conveniently located next to the Suncorp Stadium where Australia were narrowly beaten by the Kiwis last night. Anyway, on our way home from a bizarre night out, a Kiwi guy ran up to me shouting 'Kiwis yeah!' before realising that he was a continent or so off. Maybe it was the fact that I was on the back of a reluctant humpback whale, or perhaps I was saying 'fish and chips' with an odd emphasis on the short 'i' sound. Otherwise I feel rather non Kiwi, particularly in appearance.

I am working as an 'international travel consultant' which means that my job is taking the dreams of people into my hands and then crushing them cruelly with my incompetence. Trying to make bookings for customers is rather difficult if you can't look up flights, find availability on said flights, follow the booking process accurately - you get what I'm saying. I'm a doofus. There's probably a job waiting for me at 'Ineptitude Is Us (And in particular, YOU!)' where botching ledgers will be part of the training program.

Mike is now 25! A group of us celebrated his birthday with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Pez, Thai food, glitter, fishnet tights and Pimps and Hos outfits. Mike looked particularly fetching in a giant fuzzy hat with a dollar sign on it, sunglasses with dollar signs on them and a gold medallion with a dollar sign on it. Are real pimps actually that obvious? Dollar signs send out a very definite message, you know.

Heatwave in Ireland! Ha!

Oh, just as an afterthought - do we have Pez in Ireland? Mike was aghast by the fact that I didn't know what it was. I still am not sure about the point of a weirdly shaped sweet dispenser but each to their own.

Captain Kerry Lopez!

This blog is going to be dedicated to a woman which my friend Emma and I have decided to admire to the point of obsession. We have never actually met her - she is the captain of the boat that we hope to see whales from - but on the front of the brochure, there is a picture of her in all her eighties shoulder padded, windswept blonde glory. Hurrah Australia! She is reminiscent of Kylie in her Neighbours hey-day.

Speaking of Neighbours, I caught the penultimate episode featuring Robert, the bug eyed resident psycho. I won't give anything away but it is HILARIOUS! Pantomime acting all around.

Hostel living is proving to be fantastic fun. I have met some brilliant people and we're in a constant state of partying / bumming. Freeman and I are probably going to move into an apartment this weekend so I plan on making the most of what's left. Tonight, there is a 'Cops and Robbers' theme night so I was hoping to go as Robocop. Or Winona Ryder. It all depends on whether I can find a giant trench coat with multiple pockets.

This week is going to bring yet more whale watching and - excitingly - Australia Zoo! Steve Irwin is, as we all know, a resident Australian demi-god and the prospect of actually seeing him in the enthusiastic flesh is almost too much for a girl to bear. Hilariously, he no longer wanders around his own zoo because apparently amorous American girls literally try to rip the shirt off his back. I don't know about anyone else but the concept of Steve Irwin actually being a sex symbol is a little disconcerting. To me, he is rather sexless. You can imagine his children being delivered on the back of a kangaroo a lot easier than you can see him actually copulating. Eww!

Free Food Shelf

One of the most glorious things about a hostel is the fact that it has a free food shelf. Let me explain this a little - when people leave and couldn't be bothered to take their food with them, it materialises in said place. Items that have appeared in the past week include:

1) baked beans in barbeque sauce
2) a half finished wine box
3) Woolworths own brand (value) gravy
4) a suspicious looking gas device
5) someone's teatowel

i.e - nothing that anyone would ever actually want to take advantage of. But the spirit of egalitarianism lives on.

Job hunting proves to be a pain in the proverbial hole but (fingers loosely crossed) it looks like I might be becoming a Flight Centre travel agent. It sounded like a good idea when I applied but as the interview stages have racked up (online application, telephone interview, panel interview) I have realised that it closely resembles a REAL JOB. Which essentially I should be running screaming from. I have an English degree after all, and the skills entailed in that can be successfully applied to being a bum so why try harder?

We are staying at a serious party hostel which is equal parts fun / energy sucking. The weird people continue to appear in various guises such as the resident stud that insists on wearing tank tops and surprisingly, the women don't mind, angry letter-under-the-door-at-four-am-in-the-morning, French men with skimpy Y-fronts that ride up whilst descending from the top bunk and the necessity of wearing flip-flops in the shower. Bleurgh indeed.

How Do The English Feel Just Before A Penalty Shootout?

Well, I don't know about the English. But I do know, that as a relatively impartial outsider, I feel a sense of inevitability. When the only penalty scorer was Owen Hargreaves who was, as Freeman insists on reminding me, born in Canada, you know that your time has come. And when I say time, I mean (un)timely exit out of the World Cup. I was in an Irish bar at the time and some irate English fans were shouting at a lone Scot 'You're still at home, you're still at home...!' On the upside, beer was a dollar a schooner.

We have hit sunny Brisbane and already, an event of notable hilarity has occurred. Freeman was out celebrating Canada Day (which he'd clean forgotten about) with some fellow Canadians when two Australian girls ran up to him and asked if he was a model. For Prada. Being his girlfriend, I think that he is very attractive but I also have enough mental acumen to realise that he is perhaps not model material.

Oh, we saw whales! We went to Bashem Bay and about 100 metres from shore were three Southern Right whales. Two of them had baby calves who insisted on frolicking. It was phenomenal to see whales and a frisky dolphin playing with them in the surf added to the experience.

The job hunt will begin in earnest tomorrow. Brisbane is cheaper than other cities on the east coast so we will probably remain here for a couple of months at least. I am going to put on my Australian Citizen hat to eek out decent jobs then desert said jobs with a suitable excuse. I was thinking along the lines of 'I dislocated my fourth toe' or simply leaving a trail of shamrocks in my dust.