Age not provided
Joined Tuesday, August 06, 2002
Home page not provided
(with thanks to PaperbackPal)
I live in Melbourne, Australia.
The house is overflowing with books, and BookCrossing was supposed to help me with the problem - yeah right! However, I have managed to pass some of them on, and it's easier knowing that they might not have disappeared forever. My interests include crime and true crime, fantasy and romance books, although I do tend to read almost anything.
I prefer to trade within Australia only due to postage costs.
All You Need to Know to be an Australian....
The bigger the hat , the smaller the farm.
The shorter the nickname, the more they like you.
Whether it's the opening of Parliament, or the launch of a new art gallery,
there is no Australian event that cannot be improved
by a sausage sizzle.
There is no food that cannot be improved by the application of tomato sauce.
On the beach, all Australians hide their keys and wallets by placing them inside
No thief has ever worked this out.
Industrial design knows of no article more useful than the plastic milk crate.
All our best heroes are losers.
The alpha male in any group is he who takes the barbecue tongs from the hands
of the host and blithely begins turning the snags.
It's not summer until the steering wheel is too hot to hold.
It is proper to refer to your best friend as "a total bastard".
By contrast, your worst enemy is "a bit of a bastard".
If it can't be fixed with pantyhose and fencing wire, it's not worth fixing.
It's considered better to be down on your luck than up yourself.
The phrase "a simple picnic" is not known. You should take everything you own.
If you don't need to make three trips back to the car, you're not trying.
On picnics, the Esky is always too small, creating a food versus grog battle that
can only ever be resolved by leaving the salad at home.
Unless ethnic or a Pom, you are not permitted to sit down in your front yard,
or on your front porch.
Pottering about, gardening or leaning on the fence is acceptable.
Just don't sit. That's what backyards are for.
When on a country holiday, the neon sign advertising the Motel's pool will
always be slightly larger than the pool itself.
There comes a time in every Australian's life when he/she realises that the
Aerogard is worse than the mozzies.
Your most offensive curse also doubles as an exclamation of awe or amazement, like, "fark orf!"
All of your internationally famous people don't live here.
You relish test cricket - the longest, slowest game in sport (and that's not even counting the replays). After all, what else gives you an excuse to sit on your arse for five days, watch TV and sink piss with your mates?
You don't drink Fosters, but you let the world think you do.
The only thing better than beating the Poms at ANY sport is giving them shit for it.
You love, adore and admire a particular team/sportstar/actor on a winning streak - until they lose. Then they're just crap and 'past it.'
You can compress several words into one - ie 'g'day', 'd'reckn?'
You favour either Holden or Ford - or a souped-up WRX with new kit and a bootful of subwoofer.
You make kooky films, sometimes about wayward road trips (across the outback preferably). Quite a few are crap.
You know all the words to Khe Sahn but not the national anthem.
Your nickname ends in 'a' or 'o'.
You have a customised stubby holder.
Your politicians believe than sticking the prefix 'un' in front of your nationality is an effective way of making you sit down and shut up.
Our mantras are 'fair go for all', 'mateship' and 'little Aussie battler' - but we still publicly condemn those with different viewpoints to us.
'Fair go for all' excludes indigenous people.
An eight-hour trip to go camping for the weekend isn't out of the question or excessive.
You take pride in living in a tolerant multicultural society but firmly believe that all Poms and Kiwis are fair game.
You insist on asking every celebrity who steps of an aircraft what they think of Australia. If the response is not overwhelmingly positive, they should be subjected to immediate public ridicule.
The private lives of footy and cricket players become more important than local and national news stories.
You say 'no worries' quite often, whether you realise it or not.
The first thing guaranteed to get eaten at parties is fairy bread.
And specifically for Melbourne, with thanks to Catherine Deveny:
You know you're from Melbourne if …
- When diarising anything in September you first consult the footy fixture (actually, extend this from March to September if you know what's good for you)
- You were shocked when you found out not all street directories are called Melway
- When everyone knows where a bar, cafe or restaurant is you no longer want to go there
- You know Sunshine, Rosebud and the Caribbean Gardens are not as good as they sound (except Sunshine - great suburb!)
- You consider yourself a socialist yet you drive a European car and have a cleaner
- You refer to rococo furniture as "very Franco Cozzo"
- You felt betrayed when you discovered Melbourne was not the only place in the world with trams
- You think the slogan on our licence plates should be "Melbourne. The Coffee Is Shit Anywhere Else", "Melbourne. Go To Sydney. We Hate Tourists" or " Melbourne. What School Did You Go To?"
- You know the word ''Moomba'' means Up Your Bum, White Man
- You're not happy Melbourne has been voted the World's Most Liveable City. You'd prefer it was voted "Most Enigmatic, Tortured And Slightly Dangerous City"
- You think the only person who looks good with a moustache is Ron Barassi (and maybe the puppygranddad)
- You've looked out the window of Puffing Billy and waved like an idiot at the cars at the railway crossing. And you've watched Puffing Billy pass as you sat in a car at the railway crossing, and waved like an idiot
- You think beyondblue does great work but you hate the way it makes Jeff Kennett look good. Which is depressing
- Any music by Paul Kelly makes you suddenly think of the Nylex sign and something about making gravy
- Jon Faine shits you but you can't switch him off
- You've been to the Royal Melbourne Show and the scariest ride is the train home
- You don't get the jokes about the Yarra. Or Melbourne weather
- When you hear the word ''Bougainville'' you think of Northland
- You don't judge people on their looks, wealth or status but on the bread they buy, the coffee they serve and the newspaper they read
- You pretend the Sydney-Melbourne rivalry doesn't exist. Which it doesn't. Because Sydney doesn't care. And that really shits you.
- You brag Melbourne is the creative capital of Australia, but your walls are full of signed football jumpers.
- When someone says thanks you say, "No Dromanas."
- When you hear the word ''Easter'' the first thing you think of is the Royal Children's Hospital Appeal and Zig and Zag. And then you quickly think of something else.
- If someone is referred to as a ''showbag'' you know it means they're cheap and full of shit.
- If a friend gets a new boyfriend or girlfriend, your first question is, ''Who do they barrack for?''
- You think if we all ignore Federation Square, Docklands and Robert Doyle they'll go away.
- You can list all the ingredients in pesto. And you're three years old.
- Cup Day. Gambling at 9am. Drunk by noon. Broke at 3.20pm. Asleep by 4pm. Hungover at 5pm. All while at work.
- You think Aberfeldie is a tartan, Coonan's Hill is a wine and South Wharf is in Sydney.
- Chopper Read, Ned Kelly, Squizzy Taylor, the Morans and the Williamses. Sure they're crims, but we all agree they've given the place colour.
- You lose respect for friends if they move over the other side of the river.
- When holding a dinner party, you know the point is to serve food no one has ever heard of, from a country people didn't know existed, bought from a little shop they'll never be able to find.
- You were against the casino but, you have to admit, it does keep the bogans out of the city.
- Pot, cantaloupe, potato cake and hook turn. Build a bridge and get over it.
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