Yours truly is planning to go to the land of Vegemite bliss this December which is your summer to my winter and to all of our heart's discontent. Even my travel agent was an "Ozzie" sorry, AuZZie, no wait, it's Fozzie the Bear, right?
What a "local" Australian travel agent looks like.Our conversation was meaningless an pointless as he took my money:
"Ere, uur, youuul 'ave a wuderful time, mate."
See?
SEE? Immediately this dude starts calling me his "mate"
So I'm like "Dude, I not not going by a god damn ship, am I?"
He laughs. Thinks to himself 'Another god damn lowly-educated American on my hands.'
"Egits jus un' expression, mate. Like huw uwe Ameurcuns says "dude."
Well!
So I'm all like "Dude, the word dude is
universal and succinct to the letter in that it means your life and personal existence and interest don't mean anything to me."
And then he's all like "Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude."
While there I'm more than planning on being the ugly American tourist as I can possibly be. I'll intentionally mispronounce everything like Canberra as "Can-of-berra" brekky as "brake fast" and be sure to wear a Fosters t-shirt with a silk screen of Chris Hemsworth blowing Hugh Jackman on the back.
I dunno. Maybe some Trump gear so I can get in good with the local racist seeing that weed is not legal there what else is there to do?
Don't want to "see" the beaches" or one single kangaroo because we all know that Eckhart dude will be "rooting" them all with his anti-America hook-and-sloganism. I mean, gross. No I want to see bogans. Loads and loads of bogans for I hear they are like Texuuns only with better accents and can count above 3. Then to top it all off, I'll visit a couple of aboriginal ghettos. I'll be safe, right? It's not like they can afford Rohypnol or have a gun.
If I have any remaining leftover "fiddly" I'll venture into the Outback and take a selfie and say, "There is where they filmed Mad Max" and are flimflaming another one now with that hot girl from the Queen's Gambit." So touristy.
I hope to die from dehydration only to consume gallons of Fosters from bathtub (I hear it runs backwards there), develop kangaroo pox from a bogan, stalk Steve Kilbey, see Pine Gap where the CIA plans all their political assassination operations, meet a Fozzie lesbian (but not Ruby Rose) and take her back to L.A. and maybe if there is still time celebrate on watching the Great Barrier Reef slowly die.
Wuderful time, indeed.