Please, Mother Nature, May I have Some More?

I’ve also noticed that many Aussie’s have a none-to-positive view of the Greek system in America; they do not have frats or sororities here.

Pete, our tour guide in Byron Bay made cracks about the Greek letters worn by sorority girls at bond, saying he doesn’t care what letter they represent, because they mean one thing to Aussie guys: “F ME.” He also referred to them as, “sorostitutes.” Clever, Pete, clever.

Also, our spin class instructor treated a group of us to a vivid conversation of his perspective of Greek members. He unleashed some rather vulgar comments in reference to their behavior behind closed doors, which I will not repeat here, as they even made ME blush. And this author is a girl whose new years resolution was to cuss less.* Whew, lewd indeed. He was also puzzled at the eagerness of many girls and guys to “pay for friends,” and his assistant joined him in Greek bashing, alluding to the over-the-top machismo of many American frat guys at Bond as overcompensation for something else. The entire pre-class conversation was enlightening, and generally uncomfortable.

Now, the Greek system may not be for me, but I have no problem with it. HOWEVER. I will say the Panhellenic girls at Bond representing a certain school in Boston may or may not fit… oh nevermind.

Onto Spin Class itself. There were 30 bikes in a room the size of my parent’s kitchen, a DJ’s sound board pumping some sweet techno beats and not a single window. But, oh, was there a discoball. A sweet, multicolored discoball. So. The lights get turned off. The discoball gets turned on, and we commence spinning to a techno song. I will not describe the song because it is common knowledge that, especially to someone who has a ear for Southern Rock, every techno song is exactly the same… ::gooshgooshgoosh::. Needless to say, I was sweating like a ‘Slore in Church’ 5 minutes in, and by class end was legitimately lightheaded. So sum up the experience, all I was missing was a little hit of something and, BAM, I would have experienced Studio 54 in its heyday.

Well, I the first anniversary of my 21st birthday occurred yesterday. I am 21 and twelve months, and thank you all for your well wishes. Now while I was not particularly excited for this birthday, I was excited by the prospect of not having sleet/snow/wintry mix on my birthday. However, Mother Nature had other plans and released a deluge of rain—the first rain since we arrived. Why thank you Mother Nature, and a one fingered salute to yourself, as well. Luckily, I had my Notorious PIC (Partner In Crime), Jackie, to take me to O’Malley’s in Surfers with Jodi, Jake, and Beau, buy me some Magners (joy of joys, they have it here!!!), and get the band there to play Kid Rock. Thus, she succeeded in pulling me out of my funk.

*FYI- When deciding whether or not to make cussing less your resolution, might I advise you to take into considering relocation to another country prior to. Airport travel, customs, idiot members of your travel group and being phoneless, internetless and bank accountless in a strange land do NOT bode well for those trying to clean a potty mouth.

Cultural Lessons: (not my best edition)

-Aussie guys wear fitted shorts. Like fitted.
-Rather than the public speaking class I would have take at NEU, the public speaking class here consists of projects like dressing in a toga, standing in the middle of campus midday and delivering a speech that begins with, “My fellow Roman, lend me your ears…” ::sigh:: that’s just great…
-Australia Day is this Monday. It appears to be like the 4th of July. Jackie and I have already bought some Australia flag temporary tattoos: 1.) because we’re super cool. 2.) the only permanent tattoo I’d ever get would be the American flag. Land of the free, Home of the brave. Uh.
-One of the on-campus eateries has recently begun serving a delicious selection of Bubble Tea. So get excited, Jess, get real excited.
-Shout out to my six foot tall little brother! "Miss you, broski!"