My Crunchy Excited.

so, did y'all know in America, we love the adjective "crunchy"? Yeah, we use it for 'cool' or 'hip'. like when referring to music: check out these crunchy beats. Or when we refer to a special independent film: that was a crunchy reel.

so...... my aussie friends are wrong, right? cause, as my sister pointed out, i only use that word when talking about the crust of a hot pocket. australians think we are so weird.

speaking of weird australians, i brought up the point that they abbreviate everything, and yet, when i use my one abbreviation Y'ALL, they giggle themselves silly. when in fact, everyday, they are saying silly words like "sunnies, footy, servo". yeah, servo. for service station where they buy their petrol. my friend's response:
"you mean, everytime you want your sunnies, you actually say sunglasses? every single time?"
yes, of course we do.
'well now that's silly. almost as silly as saying y'all'

my friend K was talking about her loud walking and claimed she 'clomped like a clydesdale'.... and i'm supposed to be the country one.

on thursday i had a presentation and a test. in the same class. a 10 minute test that the professor claimed would be 'sooo easy, we'd be so surprised!'. um, no, no it wasn't. 'how old is the aegyptopithecus? what is the phylogenetic position on the aegyptopithecus?' all i learned was that it was an early ancestor to humans. like i know how old it is. i guessed 40 million years old. the answer was 31-36. it's not like they can really prove those extra 4 million years. maybe i'll get half credit. wanker.

my friend J has never had a butterfinger.

my new friend G invited me to visit her in Tasmania. she calls home Tazzy. apparently it is a common affair for an America to arrive in Australia and think that Tasmania is a theme park. i mean, it does have the word 'mania' in it. It's like those Tazzies are asking for it.

S was telling me in highschool, she used Microsoft Word on her computer... like everyone else in the world, and it would automatically change "colour' or "behaviour" and take out the U. then her highschool teacher would take off points for misspellings and typos. hahaha

K and S had their younger brothers visit this week. and i was holed up in my room studying and preparing for that test and presentation that they had to stay in Canberra a few days without meeting me. and K's brother so badly wanted to hear my accent, that he made K call me on speakerphone. It's weird though, b/c 90% of their television and 99.9% of their movies are comprised of an American cast. but he wanted to hear me talk. i guess Ray Romano and Tom Cruise aren't actually the real thing.

oh, and since my stories are lacking some hilarity, i pass on to you, my sister's latest blog entry. i started to tear up i was laughing so hard.

I now present to you, the epic story of the BART.

So I took the dogs down to pee and one the way up in the elevator someone got on with their laundry. I pull the dogs close to me because Honey likes to size up anyone within petting distance to determine if they will pet her. She does this by shoving her nose in their crotch.

So I pull the dogs in and lean up against the elevator wall. It has one of those handrails really low to the ground, like at thigh level. And what the hell are those for anyway? Are people sitting in the elevator? Are really short people having trouble moving from the back of the elevator to the front of the elevator? Why the fuck are there handrails in the elevator?

So I lean up against the handrail and it shifts. And when it shifts, it squeaks. And by squeaks, I mean it farts. The handrail farted. Right where I put my ass on it.

So you remember that SNL skit where Roseanne Roseannadanna tells that story where her chair farted in an interview, so she tries to skootch the chair around so it farts again and she can’t get it to make another noise? So now she’s not only the girl who farted in the interview, but she’s also the girl who scooted the chair all over the room like a weirdo?

Well, I tried to shift the bar again. With my ass, of course. And it wouldn’t make a peep. So I try a little harder. I do this by rubbing my ass up and down on the handrail in front of a stranger who’s just trying to do his laundry in peace. And it did not make a sound. So now I have apparently farted and rubbed it into the handrail of a public elevator.

It’s at this point I tried to cut my losses. I think to myself, “Well, I can’t very well keep staring at the ground like a freak, can I? Cuz then I would totally look like an anti-social weirdo who thinks it’s ok to fart in the elevator.” So I look up at him and try to smile politely.

And that is when I realize that now I am the girl who farted, rubbed it in, and was damn proud of it.

So I pretty much gave up and stared at the buttons for the rest of the ride up.



oh my. my last lift ride consisted of hitting my floor button with my foot, to prove to my friend i can indeed do body combat moves. my kicks are stellar.