So You Think You Can Dance?: Leedy, Rugby, Car Bombs and the Red Sea

The blog is back. The last two weeks have been a blur, so what happened I am not very sure, but let us agree that what you are about to read is what happened. St. Patrick’s Day had finally arrived and we were extremely amped up to celebrate it properly. After I finished my morning class, Ben, Sam and I headed to Liquor Land to buy the only drink that should be consumed on this meaningful holiday: Irish Car Bombs. I realize that saying this is like saying Taco Bell is the official restaurant of Mexico, but if you are not swigging Guinness, Bailey’s and/or Irish whiskey, then you do not understand the true meaning of what the day is all about: An excuse to be sloppily drunk as long as you wear green and pretend that Ireland matters in the world. At the store, Ben and I were strategically deciding how much of each of those three things we wanted to buy. The idea was to buy only a few Guinness, along with the smaller bottles of Bailey and whiskey, in order to save money, but this plan imploded when I saw that they were giving away a Guinness Top Hat with the purchase of a 24 slab. Their marketing scheme won the battle as it made me become more excited than a thirteen year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert, so I had to buy it and the big bottles of the complementary drinks to match the mass amount of Guinness.
After dropping a healthy amount of money, we went back to school and preceded to get our money’s worth. During the afternoon Irish celebration, one of the girls tried to steal my hat. This move did not go over well because she failed to understand the Mardi Gras Beads Doctrine, which describes the unwritten rules of party wear. If you want to wear the apparel, you must either be exceptionally good-looking and/or willing to do something cool in return (i.e. show your boobs). Not only did I not know this girl, she was unattractive, rude and failed to fulfill her end of the doctrine. Therefore, as soon as she grabbed for my hat, I broke her hands down and put the hat back on my head. By the time 4’o clock rolled around, I remembered that I had to go class. Now, Ben, Sam and everyone else, thought that I was in no shape to go to class and told me to wear the hat in class because they were sure that I would be kicked out. What they miscalculated was that everyone becomes a functional alcoholic on St. Patrick’s Day; as a result, I strolled into class with my chalice, beers and my Top Hat and dropped some knowledge to the professor. After I brilliantly answered a question, she looked at me shocked and said, “You showed some surprising clarity with that comment.” Already earning my A in participation, I sat back and drank the beers as everyone in class watched me in amazement. The Australians do not celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, so I am sure they construed me bringing in alcohol as either a giant act of defiance or a sign that I need to go to AA.
Since the Tav was having a Toga Party on St. Paddies Day, out of spite for this untimely theme, we headed into Northbridge to go to the Irish Pubs. The streets were packed with every Irish person in Western Australia and it appeared as if every other person was wearing the same Guinness Top Hat that I had. In the bar, Sam thought it would be nice if he went upon stage and wish Blake a happy birthday. It was a very nice gesture by Sam, but the rest of the people there had no idea why this kid was allowed on stage. Later, I stepped outside to talk to this British girl that recognized me from school and as we were conversing, Sherry came out of nowhere and pulled me into the cab. Initially, I was upset, but when I thought about, it was cheaper for me to get home in this cab and let’s be honest, British girls are not that cool.
Over the weekend, we headed to the Western Force rugby game for a little taste of Aussie culture. The game itself was fun to attend because even though Rugby Union is a poor man’s NFL, it is still enjoyable to watch and public drunkenness is socially encouraged. The best part of the match was that I was able to take advantage of our Aussie friend, who has a worse gambling problem than C-Note Drusbosky, and I won a few drinks at the bar afterwards as a result. The Force ended up losing by 5 after failing to score when they had the ball within 5 meters numerous times in the final minutes (I am sure everyone reading was dying to know the result). The next morning, everyone headed to Cottesloe in honor of Jenny’s arrival. Ben became RockStar wasted extremely quickly and showed everyone on the beach how to have a great time. Inspired by this topless girl’s large and exposed breasts, he agreed to be buried in the sand and given giant sand boobs of his own. A man has never seemed so satisfied playing with boobs made from sand as Ben was that day. While Ben was having a RockStar time, I was meeting with his future boss for a frozen cocktail delivery company. The founders of this business are complete nutjobs. The main guy came from Ireland to retire in Perth with his wife after spending a two year honeymoon traveling around the world. However, he has a problem with “drinking too much and sticking his dick in shit,” so he had a divorce and had to start working again. His partner said he had not slept since St. Patrick’s Day, which was four days earlier, so I feared to ask what type of drugs he had been on and was currently on at the time. Despite their transgressions, these were smart businessman because they had to be savvy enough to make enough money to fund these vices.
Monday brought on a torrential downpour that came out of nowhere. Generally, the weather has been sunny and warm, but this afternoon the heavens dropped down on Perth. I was in the Hyatt pool when the storm started and I ran out of there as a powerful lightning bolt struck near the hotel. This was the second time I had thought I might die in the last three days. The first occurred when Sherry’s boss drove me around while throwing back tons of beers and telling me about the time he and his partner finished a bottle of Black Sambucco and blacked out delivering Slushie machines. Once I made it safely into the hotel, I knew that there was no way I was driving back to school, so Jenny invited us to cocktail hour. By the time we went down to the restaurant for dinner, we were pouring each other glasses of wine without realizing the top was on, falling down on our way to the bathroom and causing all sorts of problems. The next morning when I returned to campus I remembered that I had left my laundry up on the hangers to dry the day before. The rain did not seem to facilitate the drying process, so that is what I get for trying to save a few dollars by not using a real dryer. My muddy and dirty clothes were the least of the problems that the storm caused. The first floor of my dorm was flooded, cars were damaged and the entire area has been deemed an insurance catastrophe.
Speaking of disasters, Friday night was a wild one. We ventured out to this club called Botanica that was supposed to be the happening place. On the dance floor, one of our Aussie friends was challenged to a dance off to Michael Jackson’s Thriller. His opponent thought he was the best dancer since Chris Brown, but Nick did not believe the hype and beat him like he was Rihanna by busting out some moves that electrified the crowd. After Nick’s dancing victory, this old woman who looked like Doris Roberts, came up to Nick and told him he should join So You Think You Can Dance? Later, another girl came up to him and he passed her off to Blake. Blake was not happy to have this weird and annoying girl smothering him all of a sudden. He looked more uncomfortable than Roger Clemens at his steroid hearing and did everything he could to escape this Type 1 Clinger. As we were leaving, Sam only worsened the situation as he yelled across the club to the girl to tell her to follow Blake. Blake gave Sam the meanest look and stormed out before the girl could catch him. I had been kicked out earlier from the bar because well, that is just part of going out in Perth. Jenny said she saw me going up to girls with a determined look on my face and introducing myself regardless if they were in conversations with other guys. A few times I walked up to the girl, shook her hand and then seconds later I turned around with a disgusted look on my face and waved disdainfully towards her. This is what must have been the reason I was booted from the club, but hey, I was able to make the moves on this Irish girl because of it. At Red Sea, we owned the dance floor. In fact, this one girl liked my dancing so much that she jumped down from a platform into my arms. I should have dropped her because she quickly left me after unexpectedly flying into my hands. What person jumps into your arms and then leaves you? This makes as much sense as Pope Benedict XVI’s defense of child molestation in the Catholic Church. Finally, we had enough of the club and headed home as champions of the night.

Show Don't Tell: Pizzas, Nerds, Bashes and Trouble

Sydney’s Dad took us out for a dinner that set the tone for a great week. We went to this Italian restaurant called Ciao Italia and we had a good feeling that it was going to be delicious because it had a line out the door on a Tuesday night. While we waited for a table, Nick, Blake and I ran to Cellarbrations to grab some grog. Even though they did not have a BYOB policy, the place was so busy that we figured they would not notice if we brought in a 24 pack of Pure Blonde bottles and a bottle of wine. When we were finally seated, we wasted no time in ordering five unbelievable pizzas. Four of them were a combination of fine Italians meats, fresh tomato sauce, peppers, onions, mushrooms, and the right amount of cheese on a thin, flaky crust. The fifth one was a calzone that was the size and shape of Hey Arnolds Head and it came along with a side of the most succulent and flavorful bruschetta imaginable. The seven of us demolished all of it faster than Lindsey Lohan destroyed her career and left the restaurant completely full, but at the same time still wanting more.
The dinner could not come out of a better time because I had come straight from my Tuesday night vampire class. I actually was excited to attend that class because for homework the previous night I had watched Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula with Keanu Reeves, Winoa Ryder and Anthony Hopkins. On a side note, if you need a laugh, rent this movie and appreciate how out of pocket Keanu Reeves is at speaking in a serious British accent. Every time he says anything, his desire to follow it up with surfer lingo like Dude! Or Brah!, is palpable. During class, I hoped to talk about this or something else interesting, but instead I had to listen to the most nerdy and pointless debates. I don’t give a fuck if Ripley, Sigourney Weaver’s character in the Alien series, should have been given to a male actor, get a fucking life! The best part of losing three hours of my life to listening to this absurdity was the fact that Blake, Harry, Ben and Sam watched Crocodile Dundee in their class. Great class choice on my part, right? Therefore, nothing helped me forget about my mind-numbing afternoon like those delicious pizzas.
The next day I headed back to the pool to get in some exercise and woo the girl who works there. Unfortunately, she was not working that day, but I did buy a membership, so lucky for her, she is going to see me often. After my swim and my six hours of Wednesday classes, it was time to embrace Hump day Wednesdays at the Tav. As usual the Tav was full of 10$ pitchers, people gettin’ wild on the dance floor and guys like us Sup Chickin’ all the beautiful girls there. One thing of note was that an Australian bloke bet Sam that he could not chug the rest of his pitcher. Challenging Sam to any beer challenge is like racing against Usain Bolt in a sprint, you are going to lose. Sherry was quick to encourage Sam to take the bet as a matter of national pride and being one of the best beer-drinking Americans our country has to offer, Sam finished the jug easy and sent the Aussie away to buy him his well-earned free drinks.
Back at Don Watts, we faced some harassment from the Curtin Campo. We were having our usual after party when the Campus security came up to us and accused us of smoking weed. The troll lady in charge said she smelled it and there was no discussion about it, but, oh, was she wrong on both accounts. Not only was she inventing this charge, but we wanted to let her know how erroneous her claim was and additionally how incompetent she was as a security guard and person in general. Sherry was telling her off with some force when reinforcements arrived to calm the situation. Realizing that we had made our point, I went to persuade Ben to relax and go back inside before the new security man did anything drastic. In fact, the new Campo was nice to us and mediated the situation extremely well. As we walked back, we thought this guy was on our side, but he was just a deceitful s.o.b. Five minutes later, he returned with a mob of security and said we all have to leave due to a recent noise complaint. That makes perfect sense. They could not catch us on a made up charge and then all of a sudden someone called in to complain about the noise. This area is filled with college students, not real life employees, so it is highly unlikely that anyone would call in to security. The second time these crooked communist campus cops visited HQ, I immediately walked home. It was a good thing I did because in the morning everyone who stayed received some sort of unjustified punishment. Three of the people there were banned from KV and Norm Johnson, the head of KV, had a scream fest at the members of Don Watts 49.
Shaken by these condemnations, I decided it would be a smart idea to bring karma to our side and participate in World’s Greatest Shave, a leukemia foundation fund raiser. It was a fun experience because people were sponsored to have their head shaved and/or hair dyed. Considering I have worked so long and hard on my sweet flow, I could not shave it but I did have it dyed with the American flag. The volunteers shaving and coloring the hair were professionals so they were able to spray on a red and blue background with white stars mixed in. I actually hoped it would stay on longer than one wash because it felt refreshing to show off some American patriotism in this foreign land. Later I went around campus asking for donations for the cause because a few hours early Harry had set the record that day for the most money collected. I could not let Harry out fund-raise me, so I made a few campus loops asking anyone I could to spare whatever they had. I used every technique from positive self-affirmations i.e. “Who wants to feel good about themselves today?” to guilt trips like “Hold on to that dollar, the leukemia patients will be dead soon anyway.” Despite my heroic efforts, the change I collected could not surpass the extraordinary amount that Da 1 and Only raised, which leads me to the conclusion that he must have cheated.
Friday was the day of the Beach Bash and we were all extremely excited. Beach Bash is the Tav’s version of Psi U’s Tropical and it is one of the biggest parties of the semester. The whole student center is opened up and covered with sand, inflatable palm trees and Jacuzzis (don’t worry we went nowhere near those cesspools because if I happened to fall in I would still be showering). Before heading to the party, we went to Vickery to pre-game because HQ was too risqué after Wednesday night. For the first time in a while we pre-gamed by playing some drinking games with the cards that came with the Red Devil. When participating in these festivities, one person always ends up drinking way more than everyone else because the luck of the draw is against him. Unfortunately, in this case, I was that guy. Halfway through the game, I had to run and grab some beers because I physically could not drink anymore goon without needing to throw up. Additionally, I hoped when I came back my luck would change, but it did not and I quickly went through most of the beers I had bought. When Carly asked if anyone wanted to go early to the Tav, I jumped on that opportunity because otherwise I would not have made it out that night. Amazingly, they let me in the party even though I was hammered drunk. As soon as they let me in, I was whisked away to the foam pit by the group I came with and we started to go crazy in it. I did not stay in the foam long, because Benny Boy took control of that area. At one point his face emerged in the midst of all the foam, gave us a huge grin and then went back in. All we could see was his hands waving around frantically after that.
The other great thing about Beach Bash is that it is swimsuit wear so not only are girls in bikinis and/or short shorts, it was perfectly acceptable to be shirtless. In Australia, especially, girls love to see me without a shirt, so I was using this strategy to my full advantage that night (conversely it is half the reason why I am asked to play shirts optional volleyball at KV every week). To describe to you what it was like for me, I will relate Nick’s recap of seeing me that night.
He said, “you were walking around and just grabbing the hands of random girls and talking to them, regardless if they were in other conversations or not, and they seemed to love it.”
Like all good things though, my possibly glorious night came to a crashing halt. I found these two girls in bikinis, a blond and brunette, and I could see it in their eyes that they enjoyed my company and wanted to have a few drinks with me. Hoping to capitalize on this golden opportunity, we headed to the bar and the girls gave me some blue tokens to use. I did not really know what they were but I gave the bartender a bunch of those and some cash for our drinks.
She told me that I did not have enough, so I threw down another ten. She then said, “you need more blue tokens.”
“What?” I replied. “Why won’t you accept my money? You are a bartender, you should love my money.”
“Cash is not acceptable.”
“Are you kidding me? Don’t make me look bad here. I have money and all I want is a few drinks. Help me out here, don’t be a cockblock.”
Not loving my response, she turned around disgusted and pointed to the security. I probably should not have said that, but I did not know why she was being so difficult. Then, a mob of security came and escorted me out of the Tav. I did everything I could to plead, sneak and fight my way back in because I had forgotten the names of the girls and had not exchanged any contact info. Defeated I sluggishly walked back to the KV BBQ area where the people who did not go to the Beach Bash were partying. The people down there lifted my spirits because they provided me with free vodka shots and beers. Feeling loose again and hungry, I ran into my dorm and I came out with tons of food. I made about ten cheeseburgers, a plethora of chicken skewers and few grilled cheeses with the left over bread and cheese. I could not see too well when I cooked all that food, so I probably ate a ton of raw meat, but it tasted scrumptious and everyone appreciated my generosity. In this way, I may have lost my nut, but I did go to bed with some satisfaction.
While I was doing my thing in KV, the other yugs went Erica Underwood to hang out after the Tav. They were drinking goons and beers and swapping stories until the early morning. One of the guys with them told everyone that he had had sex with over 120 girls and of the last 20 he did 14 of them in the behind since he did not respect those women. That is a pretty high number, so I guess we have a great deal of work ahead of us.
After using Saturday to recover and get our lives back together, we headed to a house of Sydney’s family friend for lunch. Like gentlemen, we brought her a bottle of champagne and our own booze, which she greatly appreciated. Her son’s British friends that came over were not as generous and she was not impressed with those Pommies, an Aussie term for English folk. Then she brought out three courses of food that ended the week just as delicious as it started at Ciao Italia. She served us calamari, popcorn prawns, lamb, roasted potatoes and finished it with a passion fruit pavlova, which is a meringue-type Aussie dessert. During lunch we talked with the Pommies about how the US was going to beat England in the upcoming World Cup (Beckham will not be bending anything this year as he injured himself and is out for the tournament) and watched some weird YouTube videos. It started with them showing us a man entering a convenience store and subsequently chugging an entire bottle of Patron tequila. We kept clicking on the related videos and watched a man crush three beers in three seconds and then a man put an entire beer can in his mouth. Finally, we ended this visual binge when we clicked on the World’s Largest Tongue because that was downright gross.
When all the Pommies left, we drove up the hill to a Bowls Club. This activity is a perfect for Sunday afternoons because it is slow, you can buy relatively cheap pints and the club had an amazing view of the Swan River. The game is played by like bocce ball, but you roll weighted balls that curve either left or right on a lawn. Sydney acted like he was the best at the game, but when we had the knockout tournament he was the first one out. After a devastating loss on the last bowl in my semifinal versus Blake, Ben beat Blake in the championship to represent for Wayland High Athletics. Then, we were supposed to meet up with the Pommies for a Sunday Sesh at a bar that served ten dollar jugs, but they texted us that the pub ran out of beer, so that removed all the interest we had to go there. Exhausted from a long weekend, we drove back home to cook some dinner and go to bed.
Before I sign off, I want everyone to enjoy themselves this weekend because it is one of the best times of the year. Wednesday is St Patrick’s Day and I expect everyone to wake up with a beer and consistently crush until you are pissed as. This Irish drunk fest is followed by four days of non-stop heart-stopping basketball. Hopefully your brackets can last the weekend and avoid being busted like Sly Stallone’s face in Rocky. Down Under we may not be able to watch many games, so we expect everyone back at home to drink and watch the games for us. Do not let us down.

Is It Because You Think Am Dangerous?: Sausage Sizzle, Classes, Casinos and Broken Bones

A remarkable thing happened this week, we actually had class. For some of us that is the worst news ever, but for myself I have one of the most unique class schedules of my life. Other than the fact that I have five day weekends every week, one of my classes deals with vampires in culture. Since these supernatural creatures do not exist, we are expected to draw our informaton from such well-made and educational works including Vampire in Brooklyn starring Eddie Murphy, Bloodrayne (if you do not recognize that title, it is probably a good thing for you), and Mel Brooks' Dracula Dead and Loving It. This last title is not only the worst Mel Brooks movie ever, but I still have a vivid memory of my parents removing my sister and I from the movie theatre halfway through because they thought it was hurtful to our mental development. I am sure my parents are overly thrilled to discover that this abysmal movie is on my current class curriculum. To be fair though, the class also approves the discussion of the Twilight series, so we can finally put an end to the Edward vs. Jakob debate. My Public Economis course is more or less an independent research project about whatever interests you in the world economy. It has a project, an essay and a final, but I could choose to not do the project and/or essay and place all my hopes on doing exceptionally well on the final. Although it would be great to not have to do any work until the final, I will probably be kNOwBalls Moreno, play it safe and complete all the assignments . My favourite class is Writing Short Fiction, but it could not come at a worst time (yes I spelled favourite that way because the Aussies like the British cannot spell and always use -ou's and s's instead of z's). The class lasts from 4-7 on Wednesdays which is in the middle of Wicked Wednesdays at the Tav. Now, for those of you who think I am a little alcoholic for worrying about missing out on Wednesday drinking, I must enlighten you on the cultural differences between here and back at home. Going out to clubs in Perth are not always worth it. You will spend mad money, wait in heaps of lines and deal with hella uptight bouncers all to be rejected by wicked reluctant girls and take a sweet 40 dollar cab ride home (quick note: I think every should appreciate my cross-cultural adjective use in that sentence). To avoid this club mess, the Tav has two big nights a week that allow for a normal, fun and college-like experience: Wednesday and Friday. Additionally, St. Patricks Day happens on a Wednesday this year and since this holiday is the second most fun drinking day of the year outside of the Superbowl Sunday I do not want to miss out on any of the celebrating. Unfortunately, I now have to choose between my academics and my social life and the nerd in me will not allow me to skip any of those classes. Luckily, the course has an upbeat teacher, an interactive curriculum where we practice many helpful writing exercises and a collection of the most talented writers I have ever been exposed to up close. The last academic unit I have is the JCLA program that I mentioned in the last post and do not worry I be asking for money and help for our rebuilding African villages project throughout these weekly posts.


After my long two days of class, I headed to the Tav for another cultural experience. When I walked in, I felt more popular than Alicia Silverstone in Clueless because I was quickly surrounded by twenty or so of my fellow JCLA members. It was great to see them again after the amazing retreat the weekend before and even greater to see how generous they were in giving me free drinks. For the most part, everyone remained relatively well-behaved as we were not kicked out of the place, we did not break anything and had no trouble remembering everything in the morning. The best part of the night had to be the realization of my blog's influential power. Last week, I called out the Jim Beam girls for being greedy and disingenuous, which may have been a little unfair. On this night they pulled a complete 180 and proved me wrong. As I walked to the bathroom, one of them stopped me and I instinctively told her that I was not going to buy anything. Her response was the antithesis of what I expected. She told me I did not need to buy anything, she talked to me about America and gave me a free pair of JB aviators. I fell in love with her right there as that was the most action I would get all night. The only logical conclusion to her turnaround is that she must have heard about my blog, realized how much of a cultural phenomenon it is and wanted to make a good name for herself. This encounter unequivocally proves that my blog changes lives.





Thursday night, I planned to take it easy, but "The best laid schemes of mice and men, go often askew, and leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy" (Burns). I debated going to the library to put myself ahead for the week, but then I found out that the library closes at 9pm at night on week days. Closing that early is worse for business than hiring the Bills stuttering and incoherent CB, Ellis Lankster, to be your company's spokesman http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_WxcNirNDM. Then, I found out that there was a free sausage sizzle, which is not to be mistaken with any event in SF's Castro District, and beach volleyball games by my dorm. The beach volleyball was shirts optional and if you want to gain a more accurate representation of what it looked like rent Top Gun and forward it to the volleyball scene. Other than the blood, sweat and tears on the court, the event helped me meet most of the residents in KV and discover that Lindsey and I were not the only non-Asians in the village. Later, we decided to head to the casino down the road. I put on Sam's Texas jacket and wore my newly acquired JB glasses for good luck. The outfit worked for blackjack but failed miserably for poker. Usually, I do alright playing poker but that night I played worse than Rich Gannon in the 2002 Super Bowl. I became way too overexcited when I had a strong hand and went all in with a pair of 6's against a guy who had pocket aces. Sherry did not do much better at the table behind me, but at least neither Sherry nor I nearly got taken out back and had the life beaten out of us. During one of Blake's hands, he prematurely flipped over his cards because he thought the guy called his raise. The dealer and the other guy thought he was folding, so when Blake argued that he still wanted to play all hell broke loose. The competitor started screaming at Blake and threatening him with the most obscene and nonsensical phrases you will ever hear. Blake and the dealer tried to calm the guy down, but there was not much anyone could to cool this steaming tea kettle. Eventually, the security people came down and reviewed the surveillance tape and ruled that Blake should still be allowed to play. Blake then subsequently lost the hand and made all that effort that allowed him to keep playing a complete and utter waste of time and energy. After the rough poker experience, I needed to redeem myself. To regain my confidence I started betting Nick and Sam's money that they recently won from video roulette. I went to what I thought was the BlackJack table and threw down fifteen notes. After receiving only one card I doubled my money. I was confused and bet again because I had finally won some money. Again, one card and I won. I looked back at Nick and Sam and told them I did not think this was 21 and in fact it was not. I had been playing Casino War, a game that requires absolutely no skill or knowledge. The deal passes each player a card and if your card is higher than the dealers you win. Once I lost my first hand, I went to try to win back all my money that I had lost at poker at the real BlackJack tables. Now, I had become a relatively strong BlackJack player before I left for Australia because I had a large amount of time to play the BlackJack app on my IPhone. My time spent on the Iphone seemed to work in my favor as I turned my hundred dollars into 235 in thirty minutes. However, my goal was to win 240 so I could offset the hundred dollars lost during my ill-advised poker playing. I never quite reached 240 and should have quit at that point but I guess that is why the house always wins.


On the way out of the casino, Sam and Nick ran into some trouble with two intoxicated Aboriginees after they laughed at their sister who was making a fool of her inebriated self. When I came down the elevator the Aborignees tried to get in my face because Nick and Sam had said the Tweekinator was coming to bring the pain. Although I would have loved to "bring the pain," I had no intention to fight some drunk idiots in front of a police-surrounded casino, especially if I was going to be battling under the name the Tweekinator. Back at HQ (Sam's Don Watts Flat), we brought the skateboard out to do some more late night shredding. Since it went so well last time with Atlee's fall, what could possibly go wrong this time? Nothing at all, except for the fact that SV broke his wrist so bad that it was a prettier sight to watch JaMarcus Russell play QB in the NFL than to look at Sam's swollen, lopsided wrist. Sam tried to outdo everyone else and gain heaps of momentum before he went down the hill, but he never quite made it there. He fell face first off the skateboard and landed directly on his wrist. At first, I thougt it was the funniest thing of all time, and did not think there was a problem because he finished the run. When he came back to the top of the hill, he showed us the wrist and said that it was broken, so Nick, Blake, Ben and I took Sam and a fresh Goon sack to the emergency room right away. Blake was able to drive because he had not been drinking, which was the one lucky thing that happened to us all night. While Blake and Nick dealt with the nurses, Ben and I we went back to the car and drank the bag of wine because that was the most we could contribute at that point. At 5am, we made it back to campus where Sherry and I headed to bed, but Blake and Nick admirably stayed up for another few hours to bring SV back home from the hospital after they adminstered all the X-rays and other medical tests. When we finally woke up in the afternoon after being up the entire night, we tried to be responsible and head to the RTA a.k.a the Aussie DMV, to register our car with the state. Like any DMV, we waited in line for hours and were told that they were unable to process our request once we finally made it to the counter. Since our license plate said New South Wales, we had to go to Sydney to register the car. Awesome, I am so glad the pamphlets and online information about registering cars that we had looked through meticulously did not tell us that. Nick offered to have one of his friends back in Sydney help us out and we will deal with it next week through our Sydney contact. Next, we went to Sacrborough beach where the sea was angry that day, my friends. The wind was blowing harder than a Jenna Jameson porno and the rips, or riptide, dragged you worse than RuPaul. As every knows I am an Olympic-level swimmer, who refused to compete in the games because only sell outs like Michael Phelps swim for superficial medals. Still, with my swimming prowess, I was overcome by the strength of the rip. I swam as best as I could in one direction and was moved 20 meters the other way. After realizing the futility of swimming in such treacherous waters, we headed back to HQ to shower off the epic fails at the RTA and the beach. I then fell asleep at 9pm and woke up Saturday morning at 11 am. I have never slept for this long and it was the most glorious sleep of my life.


When I finally pulled myself together on Saturday, Sherry and I headed to the community pool to swim some laps. It was a perfect facility for us because although Sherry is technically a lifeguard, we are equally mediocre swimmers and the 50m lap pool was less than a meter deep all around. Therefore, we could stand up in it when we became tired which occurred frequently. The complex also had a water slide that the lifeguard let us go on it because she wanted to see some big college kids act like school girls as we screamed down the slide. On our way out we decided to stop at the office to see if they had any jobs available. The employee there was a cute brunette named Lisa who goes to Curtin University and seemed to enjoy our dumb American tourist act. As a result, we decided to give her my number and I handed it to her under the title "Tommy the Pool Guy." For some reason, she has failed to call it, but we are still holding on to the hope that she will. From the pool we headed to the hospital to visit Sam who had recently completed his surgery. The operation went well, and SV seemed in good spirits when we saw him, but that was probably the painkillers speaking.


At night we headed into the city to Amplify and Capitol, two neighboring clubs that open up and become one huge party at midnight. As previously mentioned, I am not the biggest fan of going into downtown Perth, but these two places were actually a great deal of fun. Both places had massive dance floors full of people gettin their groove on. One side was more alternative with songs like "Shout" and "Sweet Child O' Mine" while the other side was the stereotypical Studio 54 modern club scene. The other reason why I headed to the clubs is because I wanted to use one of the best pick-up lines that we had learned a few days earlier. The line is based on an episode from Flight of the Concords. It starts off by you making solid eye contact with a girl and then going up to her to say, "I am really sorry, but I do not want to have sex with you." The girl will then reply with a response like "yea I don't either" and then you follow up with, "so to be clear you do not and I do not want to...(pause)...but we could." This moment is where you have to drive it home because you have gained a little spark of interest from her. The last and most important thing you say then is, "Is it because I am dangerous and you think I am going to ride out of town with your heart just as fast as I rode in" and if you say this correctly you will then sweep her off her feet to the dance floor. If she is still ambivalent about your danger, respond with "you must at least be slightly concerned about my danger" and if she is not then abort and get out of there. It is not a foolproof method, but it is worth a shot, especially since a simple, boring "hi my name is and can I ask you to this dance" has become too cliche. I used it once at the bar that we were at and it actually gained some interest but I lost it on the follow through. At least, now, I have some confidence and experience in using the line, so it has to work in the future. The best pick up of the night though was at Mackers when one of our local Australian mates picked up a girl in line. This move was a little dodgy because a girl alone at 3am at McDonalds is usually not the girl you want to date. Nevertheless, he obtained her number and she has already texted him back. Good luck with that, mate!

Sunday I decided to go down to Cott with the SMU crew because I had become bored of waiting around to see when Sam was being released from the hospital. On the train ride down there, this creepy old man tried to provoke Carly and Lindsey to sing some tunes. He actually had a decent voice and sang a Frank Zappa song for us in the hopes that the girls would return the favor with a song their own. Sensing the girls disomfort, I stepped in and helped the girls sing Bohemian Rhapsody. This number sparked a series of other songs, culminating in everyone on the train car belting out Don Maclean's "American Pie."

Cott beach itself is awesome whether you are down there to drink during a Sunday Session or to simply enjoy the water and atmosphere. There was modernist art exhibit on the beach with giant diamond ring statues and a tunnel of glass flowers along with other works on display all over the beach. When most of the crew went into the bars for a true Sunday Session, Morgan, our Irish friend, drove us back to KV. There, Sherry, Sam and I made some tasty Juicy Loosey's before I went to pick up Nick and Blake from the Citigate Hotel. Nick's dad and business partner had come down to city to see Nick. Blake came along to be the ambassador for Nick's American friends. Nick's dad, Phil, was extremely nice, and bought drinks for all of us. At first, the conversation did not go so well. I started up a somewhat heated argument over why American football is better than any Aussie sport such as Rugby and the AFL. Halfway, through this discussion, I relaxed and realized that it was insensitive of me to come to their country and tell them what to like and what not to like. Once I gave into the fact that all sports are great games and they had a few more drinks, things went smoothly. Phil as he continued to drink gave Blake and I many life lessons that all generally made the point that "you must have fuckin' fun in life." Also, he threatened to beat up Blake if we did not visit the Hunter family in Sydney before we left. Blake and I would like to take Phil up on his offer for Blake's safety and for the experience, but we could not promise anything as we may not have the time or money. Nevertheless, like Nick, Phil is a very generous man and a great bloke to get pissed with. The drinks with the Hunter clan was a great way to finish the weekend and get us ready for another wild week down under. Before I end this new edition, I would like to say congrats to a fellow Trinity Bloke, Sam Adams, for releasing his lp "Boston's Boy" this week. It has skyrocketed to the top of the itunes album downloads and if you want a sample of his songs go to biggreenbeats.com. Finally, if you happen to know Chris Purdue, please for our sake, especially Sam's, tell him he is a dildo.

Let Us In: Rotto, Sherry's 21, JCLA and USA

On Monday we all were feeling the effects from a fun, but long weekend of partying and boozing. We had to go on a walking tour of Perth with our study abroad group where we went through and saw all the places we stumbled through over the weekend. There is not a weirder feeling than experiencing places soberly and in the daytime that you only vaguely remember from the night before. The tour brought us to a somewhat famous Irish bar called Kelly’s where we were given a free beer (of course it was a middy or ½ pint rather than a full beer not that I am bitter or anything). Despite my body fiercely resisting even the smell of alcohol at this point in my hangover, I pounded my middy because beer is like liquid gold down under. After the tour ended, Harry, Ben and I found possibly the only Mexican restaurant in all of Western Australia. The food itself was not terrible and we chose it because it had ½ price nachos and five dollar tacos. Unfortunately, the establishment was as authentic as Tiger Woods’ recent apology. Harry tried to spit some game at our lissome waitress by conversando en espanol but she had no idea what he was saying and the whole mood became more awkward than Cave Mary shopping at a Victoria Secret store. Back at Don Watts, Sam, the Million Beers in a Lifetime Man, struggled mightily in his first off day of drinking on the trip. Sober Sam found it impossible to sleep because his mind was so confused on what to do without its liquid co-pilot. On the positive side to his sobriety induced insomnia, Sam became a morning person for the first time ever and quite possibly the last. He made breakfast for himself and Sherry at 630 am and was one of the first people to arrive for our 730 am bus to Rottnest Island.

Rotto is a picturesque island with many intriguing snorkelling spots. Since the Red Lightning came with some snorkelling equipment we decided that we were too cool to each rent a snorkel set before we went adventuring the different beaches of Rotto. Therefore, we looked like special-ed students in the water because each of us wore one fin and only one of our masks had a snorkel with it. The coolest part of the snorkelling came when we saw a sea turtle. The caveat to this sight was that the sea turtle was on shore and had its head and right fin eaten off. When we were heading back to Curtin, Sherry called Blake and asked him to pick us up from the train station. Now, this idea may have turned out alright if the Tom Tom was in the car, but it was not. Lacking a GPS and in a foreign city, Blake picked us up about two hours later after going on an unintentional tour of the Greater Area of Perth. When we finally returned to home base, we realized that we were redder than a Baboon’s backside. Luckily for me I put on sunscreen, the bad news is that I applied it sloppily and had random tan lines crisscrossed throughout my upper body. Sam looked like the Red Man from the Red Man chewing tobacco cans. Ben was already tomato red from before so I guess he technically did not receive a sun burn from Rotto. Lindsey came to the rescue with her After-Burn lotion, which allowed us to wake up the next morning without too much agony.

Sherry’s 21^st Birthday was another excuse to drink excessively. At noon I went

down to Coles, the nearby supermarket, to buy the ingredients for Goon Juice, an Aussie punch that Sydney told me about. Naturally, I made a few mistakes in making it, so instead of the punch being sweetened by Tropical Punch and Fruit, it was straight alcohol. To Sam, Ben and I, the mix tasted sweet enough because wine is plenty sugary for us, but for the Aussies they were a little disgusted by the lack of non-alcoholic drinks in the Goon Juice. While we were drinking the Juice and the T.E.Ds at 12:30 in the afternoon, Christie the Christian walked in, saw what we were doing and swiftly went to her room. To give a bit of context to this story, Christie is Sam’s roommate who seems to come back to the dorm at the worst possible times. For instance, last Sunday, all of us

had come back from Sunday Sessions on the beach and were continuing to party well into the night. Christie on the other hand was participating in a much different event that day. Christie came back that night around 9pm and was telling me about how she spent most of the day at a local Church. During our conversation, Lindsey who had been passed out on the couch for the last hour, stumbles out the door, cries, “Oh No” and turns around, eventually noise-diving back on the couch. After witnessing this mess, I was at a loss for words and let Christie head off to her room to pray for all of our souls. Thus, the next time we saw her was on Sherry’s 21^st birthday when she was coming back from

Orientation to see us all tipsy before one o’clock. For these events that have transpired, I am relatively confident in saying that I think she believes we are all going to hell. When we crushed the Goon Juice and finished off the T.E.D.s we wandered up to the Tav, the bar on campus, for Wicked Wednesdays. At the bar, they had the Jim Beam girls there to look sexy, which they accomplished extremely well, and seduce us into buying all their JB and Cola bottles, which they also managed to do. However, I have dealt with these beautiful succubus types before, so when they asked me if I wanted to play their basketball shooting game with a purchase of a JB and Cola, I calmy grabbed one the balls, swooshed it and said, “that’s how I make it rain, bitches.” Okay, that last part is what I should have said, but I did make the shot and avoided spending any money at their station. Then, I sat down at the table that the birthday boy managed to find his way to and started mingling with the people there. One girl who was a former Norweigan soldier, was demonstrating why she was no longer a soldier as she was providing the whole table with unforgettable entertainment. She was falling all over herself and it was a miracle that she did not brake every chair around her. An hour later, Sherry was dangerously close to that level, so he needed to be taken home. As I brought him outside, he told me that we needed to bring back some chicks before we headed home. Humouring him, I let him go off to attempt to find some girls, but he only managed a few steps before realizing that he was not in the right state to make any moves. Once I guided him back to Don Watts, I did not see Cpt. Hansborough for the rest of the night. I wish I could tell you what happened to him but neither he nor I nor anyone else knows or remembers. Back at Don Watts, I refuelled by drinking as much water as I could in lieu of watching Sherry and the Norweigan's less than brilliant displays and then made the walk to the Tav with the group. Getting into the Tav was easy, staying in there was much more difficult. All the people in our group hit the dance floor and were having a great time busting some moves. When we walked to the bar to order some drinks, I once again was booted from a bar. The bouncer gave me some ridiculous reason why he thought I should not be allowed to stay. He said that I was red in the face and that I was slurring my words. First of all, it was about 100 degrees outside and I just came from the dance floor, so obviously my face was red. Secondly, I am not the most articulate speaker, so slurring my words is never a valid sign of me being too inebriated. Also, when he saw that I was not satisfied with his response, he brought out his manager who asked me if I had had a few drinks. That was the stupidest question a manager at a bar could ask. That is the same thing as asking if the Waffle House has greasy, buttery waffles. When I admitted to him that I had the crazy idea to drink the beer that was sold at his bar, he told me that by section 1.14 that it was illegal to be intoxicated at a bar. Again that is like saying it is illegal to be fat at the Waffle House. Frustrated I walked away from this man and saw that most of the group of ten that I came here with had been kicked out as well. Blake and Sam may actually have been legitimately removed from the bar because they were trying to sneak back into the small bar. The fact that they thought that they were not going to be booted again if they somehow managed to sneak back in is beyond me. Blake is an extremely tall dude who would be easy to pick out from across campus much less in the small bar. I left those two and I walked back with the rest of the group to down the rest of the booze and the delicious Chipwiches and cake that Lindsey, Liza, Shannon and Carly made for Sherry’s big day.

The next day I had to go to a four day retreat for this Leadership class/program that I am taking at Curtin. The idea that I was going to be RockStar sober while the other cool dudes were getting RockStar wasted all weekend did not sit well with me. Initially, we had to undergo a three hour personality test, during which time I was tweeking out and seriously considered running for my life. Nevertheless, I somehow pulled it together enough to last the three hours, but I was still extremely nervous about making it through the entire weekend, especially if I had to do more activities like the personality test. The trip did not become much better as we became lost on our way to Camp Simon, the place the retreat occurred, and spent over an hour in this rusty, cramped bus that had no air-conditioning. Feeling like a bigger idiot than Chris Webber when he called his infamous timeout, I thought this trip was going to be the worst weekend ever. After a Vickery-style dinner of curry chicken, things began to look up for me as we went out for a night of ziplining and tunnelling. The ziplining was unbelievable as you sped above the tree tops and looked out over the majestic scenery. Even though flying through the air was unbelievalbe, the thing that I will always cherish from that night is the tunnelling that we did. The program leaders thought it would be a tremendous idea if we went underground and crawled and squeezed our way through a series of small pipes intermixed with sharp rocks. Sean Berry, and I ventured down deep into this labyrinth of dust, rock and claustrophobia and pulled each other through the seemingly endless amount of obstacles along the way. The teamwork involved plus the thrill of manoeuvring through the dangerous elements and remarkably making it back out to freedom alive was an experience that made this whole trip worthwhile.

For the next two days at the retreat we did various physical activities in the morning such as playing chase in canoes, racing rafts that we built and doing our best Sly Stallone from Cliff Hanger impersonations while going through the high ropes course. Although these activities were a great deal of fun, the leadership workshops we did in between were equally as amazing. We made balloon animals, took on Lego challenges and even competed in the classic game, Chubby Bunny. The true brilliance of this retreat is how they managed to turn those seemingly innocuous games into intense and moving life lessons. The workshops reshaped our image of the world and revealed the truly magnificent attributes of everyone there. The bonding that took place there was so strong because everyone effused with positivity and genuine compassion. The retreat was like a Hallmark Channel Original movie, except that it was real life and you did not question your dignitiy after sitting through it. The weekend culminated in the formation of our project groups. In my group’s project, we are building hope village by village to save Africa. We are planning right now to work with charity groups such as Hope for Africa, One Laptop per Child, Nothing but Nets and others in the intention that we can build a modern infrastructure to support the villages where new schools are being built. With that said, all readers prepare to open your mind and wallets because I will be asking for some donations and love for this endeavour.

On Sunday night I had to go to OBH to pick up my mates from a Sunday Session when I finally made it back to campus. Even though I was not too excited to drive out there, I had been without them all weekend and wanted to hear their stories. I walked all the way over to Vickery to pick up the keys from Harry. For some reason he was not picking up his phone, so I creepily roamed around his building hoping to find him. When he came out to the kitchen, he saw me staring through the window, he looked back at me like I was a dodgy bloke. Fortunately, he let me inside because it was getting really awkward tapping and looking through random windows. It was great to see Harry and he told me all about their trip down to Margaret River. They had a great time camping and surfing down there, but the real fun apparently was on their way back home where they stopped at six different wineries. They would have gone to more, but the wine owners caught onto the fact that they were more in it for the getting hammered part rather than actually appreciating the quality of wine. After hearing this story, I took the Red Lightning to bring my drunken friends home. When I made it down there, Sherry found me immediately, but Sam had much more trouble. I saw him down the street while Sherry was on the phone with him and tried to guide him to the car which was no more than a 200 feet away. I told him go left, he went right and then I said go up the hill and he went down the hill. This game went on for about five minutes before Blake, Syd and him figured it out. On the ride home, the yugs recited their stories to me. The one worth mentioning is that Sydney was the make out king. He apparently was snogging face with the whole bar and even scored himself a lunch date with one of the girls. Although we were making fun of him for going on a friendly lunch date tomorrow, he will probably have the last laugh as the girl was cute and seedy (I personally think the Aussie word seedy is offensive, but I wanted you to know what it is. I prefer slutty it is a much more respectful way to describe loose women aka Trinity Girls).

When we returned I found out that the Canadians that are on campus with us were planning on waking up at 4am to go to the casino to watch the Gold Medal Game live. Hearing this, I decided to one up Canada and stay up the whole night partying and meet them at the casino for some USA domination. Unfortunately, my plan was not meant to be. First, Blake and I decided to go at around midnight to the casino and use the free drinks that we would receive gambling to get a little rowdy and then use the thousands of dollars we would win from gambling to throw down at the casino pub during the game. This idea immediately failed as the security at the casinos threw us out for “too much beach” attire. What’s new, I thought, we were once again too American for an Aussie establishment and were booted. Not to be deterred we went back to campus and munched on a bunch of pizzas to keep us ready for the long night head of us. Sherry, however, was the first one to leave the group as he was sloppier than TK eating a PB and J sandwich. He was falling into bushes, walking around with one sandal on and his ass exposed and doing almost anything else he could to embarrass himself. I am sure Jeffy would have been proud to see his captain during this display of grace and self-control. Next, we brought out the skateboard to shred to pass the time. Atlee was the first to go down the hill and she set the bar real low. After going maybe a foot, the skateboard flew out from under her and she came crashing down on her left side. She responded like a champ though. She dusted herself off, put on some Neosporin and grabbed a beer. When 3 am rolled around and the Canuck faithful woke up for the game, I went inside to shower and change. When I sat on my bed to put on the proper attire for the casino, all my energy left me and I passed out. In the morning, I woke up to the full beer that I left open and the image of Sidney Crosby celebrating his OT goal. The wasted beer and the dashed USA dreams of Gold have left me almost too depressed to write anymore. It is unfair though to leave all my readers on such a dour note so I will remind everyone that USA is still number one as they cleaned up in the overall medals and the USA Junior Hockey team won the World Championships in Vancouver a month earlier. Suck it, Canada.