I bet your fine ass!

Oh, glory in a 500g container.

Apparently no one knows this quote. I should probably stop using it in general conversation then.

"Is your donkey fine?"
"I bet your fine ass!"
"Dammit!"

So! I have internet! Oh the holy thing it is! I thought I had gone cold turkey, over it, but not really, I am mainly possessing it at the moment to ogle at Jarvis Cocker dancing. This is of use in some manner that I shall think of. Later.

I shall give a attempt at a brief description in five points of my two months so far in Adelaide.

1. First day of orientation. Found myself sitting with one person in a row of twenty six (yes, I counted, to prove such theories, the theory of peoples relativity to me) with no one siting near us. This only changed when a few of the hat wearing people sat on the other side next to my friend. My brother said it was because I smelt. I proceeded to scream that I didn't smell, I just didn't fit the stereotypical view of the modern female... blah blah blah. He simply called me "smelly butt". I shouted. He threw an acorn at me. I dodged. Found myself on the floor after nose diving into a door.

2. Attended that of a zine fair! A "zine" you ask? Its a self publication (yes not "Zion", I was not going to a Zion convention as others thought) full of illustrations, comics, perspectives, basically anything. It was in this dingy little sort of basement next to The Crazy Horse and felt rather underground. Bought some magical little gems, a sock monkey badge, "ZOMBIE VIDEO", a massive colour-it-in maze poster, books on feminism, the vegan shopper guide (did you know musk is the abdomen of a deer? "Why, what is that smell, are you wearing abdomen of deer?" "Why yes! ""How lovely!", who wants that?) and a few other zines. Everyone was dressed rather alternatively, holding black marker pens and discussing mix tapes. It was all a bit radical, well, not really. I later attended group discussions on international students in Adelaide, a graffiti exhibition and world music (plus live facebook: a.k.a: would you like pie with that?) in the same place.

3. Watched "The Reader" alone. Felt like a seedy man in the back row. Some scenes wouldn't go amiss in a Bill Henson exhibition quite rightly, but gosh! It was so fantastic! Besides the lady next to me sniffing loudly before exclaiming "ohhhh! NOOOO! I see what SHE'S DOIN'!" in the most crucial scene. I mean, the most crucial scene, the most emotional, the most devastating scene, and this was practically after the director told us! What is wrong with you woman?! Plus, the movies from the International film festival were all excellent, "Stella" was absolutely heart-breakingly beautiful- "I'm afraid of everything"- slightly tainted when nearing towards the end, the lady behind me said, "that's practically my childhood minus, like, the French and France thing, and like, the cafe thing and like yeah...". So, like...the whole basis of the, like, film then? "A film with me in it" caused the whole audience to laugh, giving me a new quote "don't go all vegetarian on me, now". Plus, "Kisses":


4. Found myself exclaiming in front of a rather large percentage of the school population that I was a furry Star Wars character:

(Common area, students gathered. Blonde things sitting around, congregation of students waiting for class)
M: If I'm yoda, what are you?
C: I'm wooki! (followed by angry bear moves, clawing the air, mouth open, demented face) ROWWARRRRRR!

(Common room all staring at demented ginger who just declared herself to be wooki. Respect lost, failure.)

This could have been a result of my further readings into the Science of Star Wars, a book I picked up for close to five cents. To quote " there are a lost of evidence knowing from the structure of their feet and backbones to prove Wookis lived in trees". I kid you not.)

5. Had a cosy little St Patrick's day in leprechaun chic and a warm, creamy glass a Baileys! Hope you had a good one too!

"Streuth!" - Australia

Well, thanks to suggestion I now have an "o", but it takes an awfully long time, and I am basically a very lazy person. That would have been my New Years resolution, to be less lazy, to stop procrastinating, but I changed it. I want to be one of those people who don't put things down and then spend two hours trying to find it again, to then find it hidden inside a lamp because you thought that was a logical place. That might not be a type of a person, that might just be me.

I leave my this dear old country in about, exactly, actually, ten days. Its a tad scary, but I guess it really is just an extended holiday, I'll be back before I know it and avoiding everyone, shamed. But its a big thing! I have spent eight years here! And I am not even crying, or at least feeling like eating fudge, instead I am thinking over what hats I should be wearing (is a beret too much?). Am I completely apathetic?

Maybe not as proven by today's trip to the cinema to see Luhrmann's "Australia" (Which was slightly funny as I smsed stating I was going to Australia and received replies saying they thought I was leaving later and that they were worried thinking I meant the actual country. I thought that was funny. Maybe they didn't. I am a complete bitch, sooner people realise this, the better.). I cried in the movie, maybe in patriotic spirit, maybe wrapped in the intensity of the movie or maybe from sheer embarrassment (but I cried in Ice Age too, so its not much to go by.) The movie was, in a word, fine. Fine is what you say when you're not really fine, but you don't want to let on, as the great man of words, Dylan Moran, would say. But there is no other way to describe it, it was just "fine". It slightly played up to the idea of Australians, despite being a well established Australian director ("Moulin Rouge", "Stricty Ballroom"). I am pretty sure in the 1940's, no one really said "crickey", especially not a prim English woman (Who shockingly embraces the Australian life.). It was a bit predictable, really. On the positive, the movie provoked emotions, had lovely scenery, Diver Dan and some good ol' mateship.

The movie, had this perfect opportunity to simply end, it was happy, looked like the start of some feel-good movie, flowers, laughing children, kissing, near to birds chirping kind of feel good. And it was perfect, I would have left a happy girly.... And then it went into the war and the fight to keep the half-caste child. It made it seem like it was "okay" to steal the Aboriginal children, that the Stolen generation was fine because everyone was so damn happy. That is wasn't really a disgusting deal that lasted until Mr. Whitlam came in the 1970's. The 1970's, that's not even 50 years ago.

But I guess Australia needed a film, besides "Crocodile Dundee" thanks, so that's now done and we can sit back and continue drinking, being filthy and calling each other mate. Because that's what we do.