Tuesday, December 30, 2014
I woke up today feeling like death. I have officially gotten sick. That took less than a month. Stina, who has been sick for a few days, is finally feeling better. But we couldn’t fret about it for two long, because today we were going to see Koala’s and Kangaroos!!! Christina’s cousins picked us up and took us to Chapel Hill (the burbs of Sydney) to the Koala Sanctuary. There were about 20 or so female kangaroos that you could feed, so we spent a while with them. They keep the females separate from the males (must be nice) because apparently the males be cray. And I am not trying to get my ass kicked by a roo. The females were adorable, eating right out of our hands. They have these funny little rabbit teeth that tickle a bit (that’s what she said). Then we went on to the Koala petting portion, so now I have to figure out how to own a Koala because I am fucking in love with them (FYI – they are not bears people, no Koala bear, just Koala). We met an adorable female Koala who’s name I sadly don’t remember so we will just call her Muffin – she very much liked the way I smelled and nuzzled me a bit. After that we saw a sheep shearing demonstration which was quite traumatizing. It consisted of a dude who looked like he was straight out of an Outback Steakhouse commercial giving us more information on sheep shearing than we would ever want to know and then actually shearing one in front of our frightened little eyes. Needless to say, Mr. Sheep was not pleased with Mr. Steakhouse. Oh, and he threw a boomerang too. It’s about as exciting as it sounds. It’s basically frisbee for people with no friends. Not that people who play frisbee have friends…
Christina’s cousin and his family were lovely – three children but all very well behaved, so I wasn’t too terrified. However they invited a friend of theirs to meet us at the Zoo to surprise Christina – her 6th grade teacher from Manhattan Beach who now lives in Sydney and works with her cousin’s wife. Small world. Slight prob though – this lady was fucking nuts. Stina couldn’t stand her back in 1996 when she was in her science class. She basically bulldozed the entire day, no one could get a word in, and spent the entire time name dropping all the rich people she knows in Manhattan Beach (then why did you move?) and talking about her amazing daughter who is an actress (in actuality she is a server at the Outback Steakhouse in Sydney). And then there was her younger child. Oh lord, this fucking kid. He was like the poster child for Ritalin. If that was my kid, he would have gotten his ass kicked before we even got into the park and then spent the rest of the day in the car with the windows only slightly cracked (so I wouldn’t get arrested). I think he called his mom “stupid” about 10 times. Not that I disagreed with him – but how do you let your child call you stupid without an ass whooping? I’m starting to think that its not children I’m afraid of, just bad parenting. Wait no, it’s children. I think my ovaries are still constricted from that encounter.
After spending the day with Christina’s family, we spent the night with mine. As coincidence would have it, my Aunt, Uncle and cousins from Redondo Beach were on holiday in Australia as well, so we all met up at our Cousin’s house for an Aussie BBQ. At this point we were pretty desperate for a home cooked meal that did not consist of a salami sandwich made in a hostel kitchen. Our prayers were answered. After lot’s o’wine and extreme over eating (yes, this is a theme), my cousin Brant (from Redondo) wanted to go see King’s Cross, which is Sydney’s version of the “red-light district”, so Stina and I tagged along with him and Carla to see what it was all about. Upon entering our first bar I was immediately hit on by a guy high as balls – we narrowed down the possibilities to crack or acid, although I have no way of knowing as I have not done either drug (because, to quote Whitney, crack is for poor people, and it’s not 1972 so who is doing acid these days?). Not sure how he even knew I was a human, let alone a girl, but if the crackhead wants to buy Rory and her posse a round a drinks, by all means, let the man buy drinks. We left after one round and strolled down to the friendly neighborhood strip club. Now, I’m not strip club expert here, but these were the laziest strippers I have ever seen in my life. It was like they took the surly New Zealand waitresses who don’t give a fuck and put them on the pole. Really pathetic. Luckily I was not drunk enough to give another “drop it like its hot” lesson – I doubt that would have gone over well. When Brant turns down a lap dance, you know it’s bad. And don’t even get me started on how much a lap dance costs. These bitches probably make more than me (more than I used to…since I am currently unemployed). Needless to say, we didn’t stay long. We left Brant in Kings Cross to do what he does best and Carla drove Stina and I home.