This says a lot.

More to come later...

300 readers!

Hello Loyal Readers -

Today marks the 300th hit this blog has received. To the person from Dibble, Oklahoma who was the 300th reader, I applaud you.

To everyone else, you should shoot to be the next milestone. Read more often you lazy bums!

Eau de Taco Bell.

This morning on the train, the man sitting next to me smelled exactly like a Taco Bell restaurant. It was like he had sorted out the logistics behind bottling the distinct smell of "beef," cheap hot sauce and old lettuce of arguably one of the most disgusting, but at the same time delicious, chain restaurants in the world.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that someone breaks the code to bottling the scent of tater tots, hot dogs and Sonic hamburgers. Eau de Tater Tot will be my signature smell. That's right gentlemen, start your bidding now.

Truf - Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias and Designing Women are still relevant.

For those skeptics that think the films Fried Green Tomatoes and Steel Magnolias, as well as the television show Designing Women, are outdated and irrelevant, I'm here to tell you that you're wrong.

The idea of sassy Southern women is NEVER out of style, and in the immortal words of Carlene Frazier Dobber, "I've learned one thing in my life; never fry chicken when you are naked."

Thank you.

I wanted to post a quick "thank you" to all my readers. The feedback I've received on the new site design has been extremely encouraging and all your suggestions only make this a better blog. Keep up the good work reader!

UPDATE: Red Sea Hair Part Girl Strikes Again!

If you remember the post about the woman I saw on the train that had her hair parted all the way down to her neck, then you'll appreciate this.

I saw her again, and what's even better is her hair petting boyfriend works in the same office building as me.

I tried taking a photo of her hair because it was doing the same same weird parting thing, but she wouldn't turn her head in the right direction, thus not allowing me to get a clean photo.

Damn.

When the kangaroo punches back.

Since I moved to Australia, I have been waiting patiently to see some wild animals. I mean, isn’t the general perception of Australia that everyone commutes to work in a kangaroo pouch, and instead of dogs, everyone has a koala? Don’t dingoes eat babies EVERY DAY and the drink of choice is Fosters? And I have yet to see the headquarters of the restaurant chain Outback Steakhouse because seriously folks, that is obviously an Australian company.

Moving on, I finally got my chance to see some wild animals in their natural habitat (zoos are for the weak animals). While visiting Kangaroo Island this past weekend, I saw loads of beasts – koalas, echidnas, New Zealand fur seals, Australian seals, loads of birds, and of course, kangaroos. It was an amazing trip and I'm happy that I got to see such an amazing place.

The next day, I signed up for a wine tasting tour that took me to the Barossa Valley. After visiting the area, I still prefer the Napa Valley, but the Barossa is still very nice, as is Adelaide and I had quite a good time. However, while stopping for lunch, I made the fatal mistake of ordering kangaroo. I can honestly say that I had qualms about eating something I also wanted to cuddle, but I thought it was a chance to try something new, so I went for it. In retrospect, I should have gone with my gut feeling of “You like to cuddle puppies. Therefore you would never EAT a puppy. You don’t like to cuddle chickens because they will peck your eyes out. You can eat chickens.” Just after the first bite, the kangaroo meat in question lodged itself in my throat. At first I thought, “This is a bit embarrassing. Hmm…let me drink some water and maybe that will help. Well looky there…the water won’t go down. I’m choking.” At this point, the other diners noticed what was happening. A woman grabbed me from behind and started the Heimlich maneuver while another woman shouted at her that she was doing it wrong. One would think that I would be scared at this point. Perhaps it was the shame of not being able to swallow food properly at the age of 26 or maybe it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about what an awesome blog this incident was going to make, but I really wasn’t freaked out. Finally, someone hit me on the back as hard as one could imagine, the kangaroo meat dislodged and flew across the table, eventually landing on the floor. Oddly enough, the wadded up piece of meat kind of looked like a fetal kangaroo, which I believed is called a “joey.”

Despite the fact that my lunch had fought back, I finished the meal. Hey, I was starving and not much I could do about it. However, I chewed each piece until it could have been sucked through a straw if I had wanted. So what is the lesson to learn from all this? Don’t eat anything you want to photograph (seriously, who wants to photograph a cow?) and chew your food until it’s liquid. Also, for all the militant vegetarians reading this blog and thought that I would renounce my meat-eating ways, I guess you feel pretty gypped to know that I finished the meal. And I’m laughing my ass off about this.

When you least expect it, every clock is ticking down FOR YOU.

Last week, I was the last person in the office as I was tying up some loose ends in preparation for the long weekend we had in recognition of ANZAC Day (to my American friends, ANZAC Day is like our Memorial Day, but generally focuses on one specific Australian/New Zealand war-related tragedy). I had decided to walk home from the office that night to get some exercise, so after changing into my work out attire, I went back to my desk to pack up my purse, tidy up my desk and put on my walking shoes. While bending over to tie my shoelaces, I heard a noise. An ominous noise. As if I was in a film and the scene had suddenly gone into slow motion, I turned my head in the direction of the sound. On the wall, there are maybe seven or eight clocks, each noting a different time zone in the world by representing a city in which my company has an office.

The noise I was hearing was the synchronized ticking of all those clocks. It was as if they were trying to say “Time up Mary Ann…tick-tock…tick-tock….”, and obviously the clocks sound like Alfred Hitchcock or that scary, cross-dressing “Put the lotion in the basket!” character from The Silence of the Lambs. Needless to say I hauled ass outta there and all the way home. And when I say “hauled ass,” I mean walk really fast, because let’s face it, everyone knows my rule of only running whilst being chased AND only if I’m being chased by someone wielding a weapon that could cause some damage. So unless one of those clocks pulled some sort of Walt Disney Fantasia* on me and came to life and sharpened one of their clock hands into some knife-like weapon, I think I was probably pretty safe. Or was I?! No…I probably wasn’t.

*Come to think of it, I think I could have inserted any Disney movie where Fantasia is mentioned, as I’m pretty sure that every Disney film features a clock character. I’m going to do some research on this, but I think we can already exclude The Jungle Book and Pocahontas.

Krispy Kreme mania…or glaze-induced epidemic? YOU BE THE JUDGE! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

On a flight to Adelaide, a total of six different passengers boarded a flight carrying boxes containing a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I’ve never seen such a consolidated group of people so enthusiastic about Krispy Kreme doughnuts…well…outside of the groups of Krispy Kreme customers I’ve seen inside the actual Krispy Kreme stores. There were enough people on the plane carrying Krispy Kremes that even one of the flight attendants mentioned so over the intercom system after demonstrating the safety procedures on the plane.

So as a result, I ask you, the reader, would you use one of your carry-on allowances to transport Krispy Kreme doughnuts from another state (in this case from New South Wales to South Australia)? As for me, I will admit that I had never thought of transporting large amounts of doughnuts across state lines, but after being on a flight in close quarters with such a wonderful snack food without the option to eat a doughnut myself (What self-respecting person would ask a complete stranger on an airplane if they could have one of their doughnuts when it’s obviously a prized possession that they are willing to carry across state lines?), I began to have a hankering for some glazed goodness. Who am I to say “no” to a doughnut? And that my friends, is why I was a fat kid.

Truf – Airport bathroom.

It is a universal truth that if you have to go to the bathroom at the airport and you hold it in until you learn that your flight has been delayed, you still shouldn’t go to the bathroom. Inevitably, if you go to the bathroom to relieve yourself, the airline will revert to the original flight time and you will have to rush. Truf.