Listening is very country

I have a friend who is dating a girl from the country, really country, not the kind of country connected to the city public transport, which is essentially a suburb not yet overrun by urban sprawl. It is Greyhound bus trip or better kind of country. And recently I almost offended her.

She is from a remote island off the coast of Australia, and that part of the coast nearest to the island is three hours away from anything resembling civilisation and/or decent coffee. There is not even a bridge onto this island and only a couple 100 people live there. It is a beautiful place frequently visited by whales, seals (and the weirdos who like to watch them) and where the Koalas have STIs (true story).

My mate is not from the island and they met through working together in the past. They have been together for a while, have just gone halves in buying a house and therefore she has a permanent place within this particular group of friends.

We all got together recently and I was catching up with her on what she had been up to with my mate and how the house is going. We were having a good chat and laughing at many things, and then something came up about her home town island in the middle of nowhere and I asked, "What do your parents think of you dating outside the family?"

She said, "They were worried at first, but now they're cool with it". She did not hear me properly over the restaurant noise and she thought I was talking about the house. I laughed. She asked why, I told her and she laughed herself into a blushing red.

She pointed out that I grew up in a country town where teenage pregnancy was so bad at one stage that the average age was bucking the trend of the nation and getting younger. The surrounding towns thought it was the water that made you pregnant, but realistically it is the beer and lack of decent television. She asked me where my kids were trying to get me back.

I said “it would be irresponsible to bring my kids into a boozy environment such as this, and that’s why they’re still in the car”. Tongue and cheek.

It was not until after I realised that the situation could have gone horribly wrong from my initial comment. If so I would have spent the rest of the evening apologising as much as possible, because she is really awesome and makes my mate very happy. The last thing I want to do is offend her and ruin everyone's evening by saying a dumb joke.

It would not have been the first time that my mouth would open the way to trouble, and most likely not the last. It was the conversation before that saved me and brought it into context of the night, but it was the first time that I had a one on one conversation with her. It still makes me uneasy about how bad it could have gone. It is also what happens here Down Under; you are not true friends unless you start calling each other a dickhead.

How long do you wait before you playfully start hanging shit on new friends or new partners of friends?

Cruising Together

I am currently on holiday cruising inland Australia with my Dad. My dear old Dad celebrated his 50th birthday the other week and we decided to celebrate with an adventure.

An adventure in itself was introducing Dad to blogging. You can catch our adventures in the freezing climes at 3 Weeks Riding Bitch.

Its worth it.

For love in the country - The top 3 pickup lines for country towns

When I talk to people who have spent their entire lives in Adelaide I hear “Adelaide sucks – there is nothing to do”. Granted it does not draw the big international acts as some of the Eastern state cousins, or has the best restaurants, and even the supermarkets are closed at 9pm, but the feeling of “nothing to do” stems from not being stuck in traffic for an extra two hours a day. You have more spare time than you know what to do with. “Fuck it, I’ll go and watch Neighbours,” should never be an option.

It gives me the shits because I grew up in a country town where you could do only three things; drink, breed, and move away. Sometimes you would multitask, sometimes too much of option one and two, led to three, but in true country town fashion it was not always in that order.

Teenage pregnancy was rife where I grew up, probably still is but I am avoiding researching more, and it was a problem before the baby bonus. Harvey Norman is doing better for it mind you, even with all the restrictions. Centrelink is not kidding anyone by making the baby bonus come in weekly instalments when you can rent to buy?

A school that I went to from year 8 to year 10 (14-16 years old... give or take... mostly take... wink!) allegedly had eleven cases of pregnancy. The school where I did year 11 and 12 (do the math yourself) now has a creche. It makes sense when you learn that up until 2004 you could only get ABC, SBS, and a bastardisation of Channel 7. Foxtel/Austar helped, but not everyone got it, but everyone was getting it... wink!

It is not because the women have lower standards, or every man that you meet is as smooth as Sean Connery in a room full of Octopussies. It is because everyone is bored, and mate selection has skewed so that even nerds like me get some.

The top pick up lines are as follows:

• I have a job

• I have a girlfriend

• I know Ro... Steve

If you have a job, you have skills that conjure income and to have something to talk about other than your family tree, just to be safe. The bonus with the job pick up line is that you can buy drinks, ergo; you can hide the fact that you have the personality like soiled underpants by blurring your way to victory.

An extension of this pick up line is “I am an operator”. An operator is someone who operates machinery at the local plant. They generally have no transferable skills, but they work 12 hour shifts and earn a butt load of cash.

A more effective pick up line is surprisingly having a girlfriend. By having a girlfriend it tells women that at some stage you were not an arse long enough to theoretically “commit” to a relationship, but you must be good in bed because now you are cheating and still in one... or soon will be... wink! One of my mates swears by this method, and he is clueless to the chicken and the egg scenario.

Having a girlfriend and being an operator makes you a sex god. You work long hours and in shifts, so you, and your partner, can both cheat and still have plenty of time to get the stink off.

The third option is a little obscure but worked a charm. As I did not have a job through school, refused to cheat on my girlfriends (some did not return that favour), and was a nerd, I was lucky enough to be cool by association. One friend in particular, let’s just call him Steve, is a little bit effeminate, but has had more than his fair share of tail. And I mean more than his fair share. The girls love him, and by being one of his mates I was cool and suave by association. Very handy.

Adelaide is not as bad as people think, its residents just lack the practise of finding their own fun. Just be thankful that your daughter, or son, is not coming home to give you the bad news that you are going to be a grandparent before you turn 50. But I do feel sorry for people growing up in the city; with so much more to do they have to entertain themselves... wink!

Tattoo... bless you!

Another year, another tattoo festival, another chance for news anchors to smugly open a story with “not just for bikers and sailors” just to give me the shits.

The subject of tattoos will still divide a room even today; only a few people remain who feel physically threatened just from the shear presence of a tattooed stranger. But as the moral pendulum swings around it gives us all an opportunity to do something stupid we can regret later in life.

I like tattoos, but I have always believed that because tattoos are so permanent, that they should represent something that means a lot to the bearer. For instance, I have a tattoo of my family crest on the left hand side of my chest. It is not because I am massively into heraldry or I value my family’s history, it is because I value my family.

My family is important to me and this way I get to keep them close wherever I go. It reminds me whenever I look into a mirror of the support they give for any goal I wish to undertake.

And it reminds me to call home every now and again.

Sooky it is, but it is a perfect example of the unwavering and unconditional dedication that you demonstrate by signing with a permanent ink in a drawn up contract on your skin. I’m sure the roses you have tramp stamped across your back strikes as a metaphor for life that there are pricks along the way but by persevering you will find beauty in the end. That star sign on your foot I’m sure is to remind you that sometimes life is not always in your control – no matter how you plan. That Maori tribal symbol around your arm is your unspoken commitment in the perseverance of ancient culture in the face of an ever increasing homogeneous society.

... No?

A close friend of mine has a tattoo of a slug getting “mounted” by a wasp on his shoulder. You can claim that it symbolises that no matter who you are or how you travel, there is someone bigger and meaner who will fuck you given the chance. I personally think that it is more likely that he chose it as a symbol for his undying support of alcoholism when we were teenagers and he thought it was hilarious.

So even then, in an obscure kind of way, it represents his spontaneity and fun loving demeanour in the cyclone of craziness that follows him wherever he goes. Do I respect him? Yes. Does the tattoo represent a time when I was finding my place in the world? Yes. Would I get the same tattoo? Shit no.