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Tag Archives: Lost in Translation

  1. Lost in Translation

    woop woop (whup whup)
    n. the middle of nowhere
    “They’re going out to Woop Woop for a camping weekend.”

    I think this is my first Lost in Translation for the year, and it’s probably because the Australian slang is becoming so familiar to me. (One might say TOO familiar.) I used “woop woop” in conversation today, and my colleague didn’t blink an eye even though I felt quite proud of myself.

    He then asked what the American equivalent would be, and I can’t even think of one! Is there one? All I can think of is a rather rude acronym involving Egypt, but I feel like there IS a common one out there that I’d use in front of my mother. Help me, people!

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  2. Lost in Translation: Sparky

    sparky (spark-ee)
    n. an electrician
    “I’m going to get the sparkies in to run the power to the new edit suite.”

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  3. Lost in Translation: Bob

    This afternoon I ran upstairs to the office above us to drop off something for Bob. How difficult can that be to understand, right? But the guy who met me at reception had this look of “there’s no one by that name here”. The guy owns the place; I know he works there. So I said again that it was for Bob… Bob [last name]. That’s when he realized who I meant. He said that my American drawl had him confused.

    Hans happened to be with me. When we got outside, I asked how I could have possibly been misheard. He said that the guy thought I was saying “Barb” and then proceeded to demonstrate the proper Australian way of saying “Bob” which I cannot replicate in written form. We had a really good laugh.

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  4. Lost in Translation: Lollypop Lady

    lollypop lady (loll ee pop lay de)
    n. a crossing guard
    “Wait for the lollypop lady to stop traffic and blow her whistle before you cross the road.”

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  5. Doin’ the Australian Wave

    There’s a thing here called the Australian wave. It all has to do with trying to shoo flies away from all the open crevices on your body, mostly your head for most, I suppose.

    Picture a Sally Struthers commercial. You know those flies that crawl up the kids’ noses and make you feel really bad for them? Well, they ain’t just in Ethiopia, folks. I don’t know if it is all the damp weather this week or what, but they are out here in full-force plague-like proportions. Eww.

    And speaking of national waves…

    Lost in Translation
    Mexican wave
    n. an occurrence which often happens at sporting events or large arenas which involves people in one area standing and possibly cheering and then sitting as those to their left do so. The excitement then continues around the arena ad nauseum. Known by North Americans as simply The Wave for obvious politically correct reasons.

    “During half-time they started the Mexican wave, and I spilled my popcorn.”

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  6. Lost in Translation
    removalist (ree myu vol ist)
    n. a company or individual hired to move ones belongings to another location; movers
    “The removalists are coming on Saturday for the rest of the furniture and large boxes.”

    Oh and “curb” is spelled “kerb” here. I thought they were kidding.

    I Have Some Stalking to Do
    I’m about an hour away from Ethan Hawke. Don’t tell me you didn’t fall in love with him in Reality Bites. Though, now that I think about it, I’d be hard-pressed to recall anything he’s done since.

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  7. Little Update
    There was a show last night. Much fun was had by all… except that we weren’t home until midnight. The fact that I even have to mention that proves that I’m officially an old fart.

    On the way home we were talking about methods to keep ourselves awake while driving when overly tired, such as opening the window and turning the radio up, etc.

    My trick was to aways turn it to NPR if it wasn’t already. Just the talking itself made me pay attention and be more alert. But if that didn’t work, I would force myself to repeat everything they said. It was nearly fool-proof.

    However the best tip came from Gareth who said that his sister used to roll her window down a crack, put a piece of hair out the window, and roll it shut again with her hair still out. That way if she would start to nod off, she’d feel the pain of her hair pulled and snap out of it. How brilliant is that??

    Chills and Goosebumps
    I just can’t help but cry when I see the videos of Paul Potts on Britain’s Got Talent. His first performance singing “Nessun Dorma” was so beautiful, and then the semi-final performance singing “Time to Say Goodbye” was just spectacular. (And after having listened to that Sarah Brightman album endlessly, I could sing right along with him.) He’s just the guy you want to win the whole thing on behalf of all the kids who were teased for not being just like everyone else.

    Lost in Translation
    slice (slyce)
    n. a square dessert or snack item; the Australian culinary equivalent of an American bar
    “I’ll have a coffee and a macadamia nut slice, please.”

    Gah, I HATE this term with every ounce of my being. It just sounds so gross to me. I cringe from it like others cringe from the word “moist”. They’re bars, people. They are chocolate/walnut BARS. Toffee nut BARS. Toasted almond BARS.

    On that note, people here don’t make rice krispie bars. What is up with that? It’s the simplest snack in the world to make. Don’t tell Mom, but I don’t even measure. Just melt the ‘mallows with a little butter. Add a dash of vanilla. Throw in enough rice krispies but keep the mixture still gooey. Spread in a buttered pan and… my family’s secret ingredient… cover with M&M;’s. Yummm!

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  8. Little Lightning Bugs
    I found a little place today called Rare Bird Finds, which led me to a place called Catching Fireflies, where I found this amazing jar of “fireflies” that I must have. (Australia doesn’t have them at all, you see.)

    But then I found a bunch of other things that I love too, so I’m just going to share them since I’ll never order them:
    the bouncing bud vase
    the dip chiller
    the blossom crown
    the “love at first sight” frame (which would make a great gift for certain someones I know… eeee!)
    ♥ And no, I’m absolutely not talking about us.
    the wine bottle cork candles

    Mountain Madness
    We’re leaving for the mountains on Friday morning, so my life is revolving around getting everything ready to go. Yes, we’re staying at a furnished house, but will they have everything I need to survive? I don’t know. To be safe, I’m packing half the house… to Hans’s dismay. Listen, if we’re going to the trouble of bringing nice porterhouse steaks up there to grill, I’m going to be darn sure we have steak knives with which to cut them!

    My goal while we are up there is to get a glimpse of a pademelon… some sort of miniature kangaroo/wallaby people keep telling me about.

    Sean over at Notes from a New Country keeps a tally of all the things that can kill you on this continent, but I’ve found a new one. The Bunya Mountains are covered with, wait for it, Bunya Pine trees. And on the government website, it reads:

    Avoid lingering under bunya pines between December and March. That is when the soccer-ball sized cones weighing up to 10kg fall from the tops of towering trees.

    Great. Hopefully they will all have fallen by now.

    Lost in Translation
    stack hat (stak hat)
    n. bicycle helmet
    “What’s that lady doing wearing a stack hat in her car?”

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  9. Potential Weirdness, But Not
    This morning we were getting off the train, and a guy comes up to me.

    “Excuse me, are you Danielle?”
    “Yes?”
    “From Tennessee?”
    “Yes?”
    “I’m [insert name]. I sent you a message on myspace a while back.”

    My instant reaction was panic, as I’ve had a barrage of wackos sending me lunch invitations on myspace lately. Turns out that he was not one of them, and in fact we had corresponded briefly as he is from Texas and is also on the quest for “real” Mexican food in this town. And, in fact, we may meet up with him and his wife in the future.

    But still… it was a bit weird at the time.

    Australian Arbonne!
    I no longer have to be completely stingy with my soap and lotion and shampoo and cosmetics — ARBONNE is coming to AUSTRALIA! I’m signing back up the second I can, and maybe I’ll try to build a little business out of it. Such an untapped market; maybe it would be easy?

    Lost in Translation
    hotel
    n. a dining establishment which also likely features a section with poker machines but does not have rooms in which to spend the night… unless it is more than two stories, in which case, it is then called a “hotel” but may or may not have the restaurant and/or the pokies.
    “It’s a proper hotel with food and pokies.”

    Admission
    I’m seriously trying not to get involved with Big Brother, but it’s hard, people. It’s really hard. It doesn’t help that I always seem to be coming home and turning on the television just as it starts.

    And Finally…
    New expat blog coming soon to a sidebar near you: Outback Dobbs

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  10. Lost in Translation
    In a little social experiment to do with Aussie slang, today I ordered “chook nuggies” at McDonalds and got exactly what I wanted… chicken mcnuggets. Further proof that you can shorten and add “ies” to absolutely any word in this country.

    Flight Fright
    There’s a phenomenon that I’ve noticed lately where you tell someone that you’re about to take a huge trip, and they in turn feel compelled to tell you their most horrific travelling story. Listen, I don’t want to hear about Uncle Henry’s 52-hour layover after emergency-landing in Taipai. I don’t need to know about your neighbor Bob’s turbulence-inducing pukefest. And I certainly don’t want to know about Aunt Judy’s body cavity search. Okay? I’ve got some horror stories of my own… I don’t need yours.

    I’ll probably be packing tomorrow. For now it’s Hans’s birthday celebration part four.

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  11. Lost in Translation
    diary (dy-ah-ree)
    n. calendar, day-planner
    “Check the diary to see when the dentist appointment is.”

    Celebrate Good Times, Come On!
    I can’t express how relieved I’ve felt the last couple of days. I don’t think it will REALLY hit until I get my bright shiny visa sticker in my passport, but for now the idea is good enough.

    We celebrated a little tiny bit on Monday night. Hans caught a cab home instead of the train, so he surprised me by coming in a lot earlier than I expected. We had pizza delivered, and his mom brought over a bottle of wine.

    Tuesday night, we spent the evening with his sister’s family who were all excited that I’m here to stay (for now). His niece had her 7th grade Christmas program, and it was so cute.

    Last night we were treated to dinner at the Sultan’s by our friends. They just moved to Brisbane three months ago from DENVER. He grew up here and now works with Hans. She grew up in NASHVILLE and is trying to figure out where to buy the stuff she was used to having over there. (Oh, how I relate!) But they’re great fun, and that was nice. She got her spouse visa years ago knowing they’d eventually end up here, so they wanted to celebrate my visa-getting with us.

    And then when we got home last night, there was a present by the door. It was a Welcome to Australia present from Dan & Lisa… The Man from Snowy River on DVD. (JESSICAAAAAA!) It has sort of become an inside joke between the four of us, but Lisa has never seen it — which seems criminal to me. It’s a classic! (Little do they know that I’m going to make them take me to the Man from Snowy River Festival some year!)

    Though as usual, with so much going on, we’re both starting to get sick. Bleh.

    You’ve Got Hail
    Yesterday we had a little storm.


    The local paper has some great photos. Hans and I had just walked out to get lunch when gigantic drops started to fall. We had marble-sized hail. Pretty spectacular overall.

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  12. A Day at the Races
    The horse race that everyone seems to care about happened again this week. I was only slightly more interested this year than last, but that’s because I seem to be a gambler at heart.

    I got in on a little pool. $2 a horse. I drew Dizelle, Pop Rock, and Delta Blues. (I feel a little Marc Cohn coming on.) But yeah, it was a photo finish, with Delta Blues just beating out Pop Rock. And I walked away with $36. Woot!

    NoMoNaNo
    I determined this week that… I don’t want to be a writer anymore. I know that NaNoWriMo is a challenge to do something that lots of people dream about doing, but I don’t think I do anymore. At this point in my life, I’d rather be doing DrawMo!… or maybe I’ll do NaArMaMo next August. My passion is for a different art at the moment, though words may woo me back someday. For now, I think I’ll sit on the NaNo sidelines and cheer on Barry and Tommy.

    Lost in Translation
    muso (muze-oh)
    n. musician
    “Allison, Brandy and I are married to musos.”

    Bad Sleep
    At some point in the middle of the night, one of the smoke detectors let us know that its battery was low… and continued to tell us about every half an hour with a loud BEEP! I need a ladder to reach it, so I didn’t bother trying to get up to take the battery out, but I think I woke up every single time it went off. And then when I was sleeping, I had a dream about my brother’s accident. Gosh if that wasn’t one of the suckiest nights ever!

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  13. Crikey, it’s Khaki
    Have y’all heard about International Khaki Day? We only just heard about it yesterday. And while I don’t really have much in the way of khaki, I did wear my tan skirt today.

    Lost in Translation: Pronounciation Edition
    khaki
    n. a light-brownish color

    American Pronounciation: rhymes with “wacky”
    Australian Pronounciation: rhymes with “car key”

    I laugh a little bit inside every time I hear it.

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  14. In the Words of Taylor Dayne… Prove Your Love
    More adventures in the world of visa applications. When applying for a spouse visa, you’re required to submit evidence of a continuing and lasting relationship.

    Just think about that for a minute.

    Those of you who are IN a continuing and lasting relationship, how would YOU go about proving this? And then ask yourself, if you would happen to have this “evidence”, is this something that you want a complete stranger, or team of strangers, seeing/reading?

    Now Hans and I lived in different countries for nearly 3 of the 4.5 years we’ve known each other. This cuts down on the photographic evidence, but certainly upped the electronic correspondence factor. Problem being that I left my computer in the States, and he’s had a crash or two, and so the past emails are limited. He has printed out 46 of about 250, but I feel like I want to edit them. The problem is that the stuff I don’t want people to read is the stuff that proves we love each other. Ugh.

    So yeah, that’s what I’ve been up to. Printing out instant message logs, requesting phone records from long distance companies (First Communications have the BEST customer service EVER), and photos from the past year.

    Lost in Translation: Food Edition
    tasty (tayst-ee)
    n. cheese
    adj. cheese variety
    “Put some tasty on top and bake it in the oven for 20 minutes.”

    I can’t quite put my finger on what the American equivalent of tasty cheese might be, but it’s white and might be close to a mild cheddar.

    Our State Fair is a Great State Fair
    The Ekka starts this week. I forget what it means again… I think “ekka” is the typical Aussie shortening of someword, “exhibition” perhaps? But I’ve been told it’s similar to the midwestern state fair concept. People even get a day off work for it. I think we’re going next week, but I’m excited — something to look forward to!

    She’s Crafty
    Goodness, I’ve got more to say than I thought I did. In the middle of trying to get my crap together so that I don’t get deported, I’m also taking up a new hobby. Screenprinting. Well, maybe. I’m going to attempt this great DIY screenprinting method in order to make some merch for Hans’s next show in three weeks.

    The stinky part is that I don’t know where to find any supplies. Where are my Michaels and Hobby Lobbys when I need them.

    The good news is that I found some screenprinting paint at an art store for $20/each. I also found one single solitary bottle of Modge Podge at Spotlight. I’ll let you know how it goes.

    I’ve also been looking for a button maker, but apparently Tash owns the only one in the Southern Hemisphere. Does Sola Fida do merch? 馃檪

    Eight Einsteins
    Saturday night we went to a trivia night with Dan & Lisa that was a fundraiser put on by Dan’s work to help raise funds for Chris Scott. He is a paralympic bicyclist. The goal was to raise $3500 to help him purchase a new bike. At the end of the night, they reported that we raised over $6500.

    We were on a team with some really fun people who weren’t very competetive at all. It was great. We called ourselves the Eight Einsteins, but it proved to be a curse. We came fourth to last, but we had fun in the process. We also won the table decorating contest… designed by the artist Hans. We kicked butt in the Name that Tune category… but with categories like Australian geography, Queensland history, and World Cup Soccer, yeah, I wasn’t much help.

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  15. Wedding Dress Shopping Record
    Left the house at 10:00.

    By noon, we were having coffee deliberating with Mom on the phone about The Dress.

    Had the shoes and dress purchased, ate lunch, and were heading home by 2:30.

    That’s one less thing to worry about.

    Lost in Translation: Pronunciation Edition
    produce
    n. fruits and vegetables

    American pronunciation: pro-deuce
    Australian pronunciation: prod-juice

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  16. Lost in Translation
    fruit toast
    n. toasted raisin bread, often served slathered in butter
    “If I knew the ‘fruit’ in ‘fruit toast’ was going to be raisins, I wouldn’t have taken a piece.”

    House Warming (read “I Need a Heater”)
    So we’re as settled as one can be considering that we haven’t really unpacked anything. Clothing selection is getting mighty slim at the moment, but tonight we’re moving the wardrobe into my room so that I can unpack my suitcases.

    On Sunday afternoon, brother/sister-inlaw took us on a shopping spree. And spree, we did. Hans had saved up some money for the move, and they gave us an extremely generous amount… so we went into every homewares shop and just bought whatever we wanted. It was so fun… and for me to say that shopping of any sort is fun, well, that’s just unheard of!

    We got:
    – glass caniters for the pantry (to keep the ants away)
    – a stainless-steel wine bucket
    – 4 latte mugs with wooden coasters
    – a pale yellow sugar bowl to match the kitchen
    – 6 tumblers
    – 6 tall glass glasses
    – a super-soft cozy blankie for the couch (yeah, that was my pick)
    – a white enamel colander
    – a wine bottle opener
    – an ice cream scoop
    – a vegetable peeler
    – 2 pairs of scissors
    – a wok
    – measuring cups
    – ice cube trays
    – a microwave
    – an ironing board / iron
    – mixing bowls
    – power strips

    Well, that’s all I can remember anyway. And then we proceeded to spend $200 on groceries. Eeek… but it was the first big shop to get all the staples on hand. Now we can actually cook! Well, we have the ingredients to cook with anyway.

    Oh, but you know the best part. Well, not the best part… but a pretty significant part — I am able to watch television in my own home for the first time in over six months. Not that I need to have it on all the time, but to be able to watch the news once in a while is kind of exciting.

    We’re off on an entire-family campout weekend tomorrow. (Yeah, I know. I don’t DO camping. We’re in a cabin at least.) We’ve bought three bottles of wine, but I’ll wait until Saturday to see if I’m going to share any of it!

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  17. Lost in Translation
    dagwood dog (dag-wood dog)
    n. a corndog
    “I’m going to grab a dagwood dog and a bottle of water from the stand and will meet you back by the stage.”

    Familiar Territory
    On Saturday, headed west to Toowoomba for the AustralianlGospellMusiclFestival to see some friends from Nashville.


    Some highlights include:
    路Watching Sons of Korah play.
    路Seeing Hans’ artwork used as a backdrop for one of the stages.
    路 Getting matching lambies with Lisa from Bread.
    路 Catching up with a couple from Sydney who I met in Nashville.
    路 Getting to spend a little time with some familiar faces.

    It was good, and it was sad. For a moment, it felt like I was at a random festival in the States. Same people. Same atmosphere. Same green room food. Same everything. But it was nice.

    We just stayed backstage to watch the show instead of trying to battle the estimated 10,000 people out in front of the stage. (See where we were as indicated by the arrow on the overhead photo from the local paper).


    A Conversation
    Phil: [to me] What are YOU doing here?
    Hans: This is my fiancee’.
    Phil: NO WAY! Pete, did you know they’re getting MARRIED?
    Peter: Yeah, I know. Isn’t that great?

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  18. Lost in Translation
    cheerio (cheer-ee-oh)
    n. a little sausage similiar to Lil’ Smokies, teenie weenies

    Hans and I had quite an interesting/frustrating conversation before we realized that Australian cheerios and American Cheerios are not even remotely close to the same product.

    Other than that, I’m feeling kind of yucky. I need a chiropractor or a massage therapist. Anybody want to come over and help me out? I can’t wait to have a real mattress.

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  19. One Size Fits How Many??
    For the last couple weeks I have been baffled by a billboard in the train station for New Woman magazine. The big attraction for their December issue is that it comes with a free bikini. You don’t tear out a postcard and mark your size and color preference to have them send you one… oh no, it comes WITH the magazine, because… it’s ADJUSTABLE. And therefore, one size fits ALL.

    I’m not particularly offended by this, because (1) I’m not fooling myself and have never owned a bikini in my life, and (2) my time spent in a one-piece bathing suit is averaging out to be under five minutes per year at the current rate. However, I think that the phrase “one size fits all” is a little misleading. The least they could have done is put “one size fits anyone who has any business wearing a bikini” or something like that.

    Their website shows off real women wearing the miraculous bikini. Oh wait, they’re a women’s volleyball team. Yeah, guess it would fit them. And then they say they want pics of readers to send in their photos in their new bikinis. Heh. I’m so tempted to buy the magazine now. I wonder if they’ll publish the less-than-flattering ones.

    Colour Me Badd
    I’m such a sucker for turquoise these days. What is my deal? I’m such a follower. (Which isn’t true… half my stuff I had before it became the IT color again.)

    Love to Hate Him
    I don’t think I mentioned that I actually watched War of the Worlds the other night. I know, I know… leave me alone. It was just on. It was against my will. I contributed no money towards the viewing of the movie, and it would have played in the lounge whether I was there witnessing it or not.

    I think the best part about the movie was that Tom’s character was such an ass that I didn’t have to feel bad about hating severely disliking him.

    We had some issues with the film. Many similar to the ones that Barry pointed out ages ago, especially the EMP thing. My biggest beef was that apparently undergarments vaporize along with the humans, because one never saw panties or boxers floating through the air… just slacks and shirts.

    I can’t remember who wrote it now, but I remember someone having great issue with the disturbing image of a train barreling through an intersection without blowing its horn. Having grown up two blocks away from the Burlington Northern line, I could relate. The train always toots its horn. Always. But I’m here to tell you that this is not always the case. I ride the train every morning here, and nine times out of ten, the driver does not honk (honk?) when going through an intersection. But this is Australia. I’m not quite sure why they do half the things they do.

    Lost in Translation
    muesli (mew-slee)
    n. granola
    “I grabbed a muesli bar for breakfast.”

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  20. Out and About
    I like relaxing on the weekends. I was not looking forward to this past weekend, because we had commitments every single day. It ended up not being so bad, and it ended up being worse.

    Friday night was fun. We met up with this couple that neither of us knew. Well, Hans had met the husband at a show, and they wanted to get together and talk music. I dreaded the whole encounter, but the wife turned out to be so sweet. She’s from Denmark originally, and it sounds like we share many similar culture-shock moments. Plus I had the most divine pizza at Fatboys — butternut squash, sundried tomato, pinenuts, feta cheese, mmm…

    Saturday we went to Dan & Lisa’s in the afternoon. I made my fabulous cheese dip with my prized solitary box of Velveeta cheese (SEE ALSO: Top 10 Everyday Things Americans Take for Granted). They don’t have Tostitos readily available here, so we got by with plain Doritos. (And by “plain”, I mean “no cheese“… yeah, weird, eh? Do they have those there now too or something?) What goes with cheese and chips? A nice bottle of wine, chosen solely by its cute label. We played two exciting games of Killer Bunnies, and then watched Hero on their new comfy leather couch.

    Sunday was the bad day. Went into the city and all the Christmas decorations put me in a downward spiral. It’s just SO HARD to imagine my family having Christmas without me. We’ve never NOT had Christmas all together. Even last year during the Christmas season you’d never wish for, we waited to celebrate in February so everyone would be there. So I pretty much cried all afternoon.

    Lost in Translation
    lead (leed)
    n. cord
    “We need an extension lead for the printer.”

    Trust me, I had an interesting time at the hardware store today when I came in looking for extension cords and a power strip. I can’t even remember what they call power strips. Something to do with a board, I think.

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  21. A Conversation
    This morning I came out of my room with my towel on my head and wearing my threadless Katrina:Regrowth t-shirt (with a map of the US on it).
    Hans: You’re not going to be able to get on the bus with that turban on your head, you know.
    Me: I know, but I’ve got America on my shirt. I’m a good guy, remember?
    Hans: Now all you need is a map of Australia… on your butt. The opposite side of the world. Get it? Down under?

    Cinematic
    My friend Alyda is back from Fiji, so we went out last night to see Elizabethtown without the men. I didn’t have high hopes, but I really found myself thinking the whole time, “You want to be Garden State, but you just aren’t.”

    A few things hit quite close to home for me though. Orlando gets off the plane in Lousiville, and when I saw the sign saying that he was approaching Interstate 65 with Indianapolis and Nashville on the sign, I just about jumped out of my chair. I KNOW THAT PLACE!! When I saw the stone walls, I just about cried, because it is such a Williamson County thing to have them. But when she is walking through the “Nashville airport”, it must have been in a wing that I have never been in, because those tiled walls were unlike anything I’ve ever seen there.

    Lost in Translation
    reckon (rek-un)
    v. to think or reason
    “I reckon it will take about three hours to finish.”

    Around here no one “thinks” about anything, you always reckon. Sadly, I’m starting to pick this one up.

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  22. News from the Uncool Department
    Bomb threat in Brisbane. I think it’s going to be best that my mother never hears about that. We take both the train and bus on a daily basis. Not that this is going to change anything. I’m not afraid to die; I just don’t particularly want to.

    Lost in Translation
    exy (ex’-ee)
    adj. expensive, pricey
    “We could go see Dirty Dancing: The Musical, but the tickets are pretty exy.”

    Meet My Neighbor

    The people sort of across the street from our house have this gigantic pet goose. I think it’s awesome! It’s so Charlotte’s-Web.

    Not by the Hair on Your Chinny-Chin-Chin
    Is EVERYBODY doing Whiskerino 2005? Seriously. First my buddy Jesse IM’d me to tell me that his nasty ‘stache was being shaven only to be replaced by four months of wild growth. Then I notice that two proprietors of blogs I enjoy are in on the man-hair marathon. And then perusing the site today I see the faces of several Nashvillans I recognize including one who Hans knew well. Craziness. Jesse wanted Hans to do it, but he and I had just had a conversation about him never shaving. Oh well.

    Acknowledgments
    — Happy blogiversary to Tommy!
    — I saw your tag, Barry. I’ll get right on that… in a minute.
    — Forgot to mention earlier that my favourite hometown read, Drinkin’ the Franklin Kool-Aid, was featured in a Williamson A.M. article. Keep stirring the pot, DTFKA! And keep posting the pictures. 馃檪 Even the ones of trash on the side of the road make me feel like I’m there… sort of.

    POST SCRIPT
    Turns out they believe the bomb threats were a hoax. Chris came to pick us up anyway.

    Posted in Nothing in Particular.

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  23. Lost in Translation: Flora Edition
    frangipani (fran-jih-PAN-ee)
    n. these BEAUTIFUL trees that are flowering right now. Seriously, the blossoms are so perfect, they look like they should be made of sugar and belong on a wedding cake. You’d have to see to believe. And the smell. Oh, the smell. Divine.
    “When ever I walk under the frangipani tree on my way to the shops, I pick up a blossom that has fallen and put it in my hair.”

    You’re Majoring in a 5000-Year-Old Dead Language?
    I was looking up dead languages yesterday and discovered the Rosetta Project, an attempted archive of all documented human languages. And through that, I discovered that there is an old Australian language called Manda. How ridiculously coincidental is that? (I think it’s a sign. COME VISIT!)

    Oh, and bonus points if you recognized the movie from the header.

    Love is a Safety Pin
    I have a tendency to have at least one safety pin on or near me at all times. Reason being that I allow my paranoia to work for me instead of against me. I would have made a great girl scout. I’m prepared. (Or is that just the boy scouts? Anyway…) So, I’ve never had my pants split wide open in a moment of devestating embarrassment, but should it ever happen, I’ll be quick to pin it back together with the safety pin that is attached to the strap of my purse… or the one that’s pinned inside the pocket of my hoodie… or the one that I always put back in the pocket of my jeans.

    So this morning we were on the train, and a lady sat down across from us. Her nametag said “Lesley”. She was an older woman, probably late 50’s. Her short, grey hair was wet; half was slicked back, the other half was going every which way. She sat down and started reading her book not looking particularly happy.

    After a while I glanced up and noticed that the flesh of her tummy was showing. I thought maybe her blouse was one of those which has the buttons just a little too far apart and have a tendency to gape in the most inconvenient places. After a bit, she tugged the shirt down to straighten it out, and I saw that the problem was due to a missing button. She would smooth the fabric out every now and then, leading me to believe that she was aware that the button was gone.

    We were nearing our stop, and I pinched the pin off my purse strap. As the train stopped and we stood up, I discreetly put the pin in her line of vision on top of her book. She looked up and gave me the most unexpectedly warm smile and thanked me profusely. And that vision has warmed my heart all day. It’s amazing what the littlest gesture can do.

    Maybe someone in your life needs a pin.

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  24. How Do I Know These Things?
    I was just reminded of a conversation we had over lunch the other day when Marj’s parents were at the house. Somehow the discussion turned to how to properly make a martini. (I suspect we were talking about James Bond beforehand, but I can’t remember exactly.) Marj’s father was a bartender and then bar owner for some years, so I trusted when he told me the difference between a regular martini and a sweet one. And then I made some comment about a dirty martini having the olive juice as well. He had never heard of this variation, which surprised me. And now I’m trying to figure out how I even know this.

    I have only ever consumed one, single, solitary martini in my entire life, and it wasn’t dirty. (That’s a story for another day involving the Grand Prix and Oleg, the white Russian. Man, I miss Krystal!) I’m thinking my old boss drank dirty martinis when we’d all go out for drinks after work. That’s the only thing I can think of.

    Anyway, I was just pondering that. And I just read that having martinis shaken rather than stirred is a healthier option.

    Groovy Duvet
    Love this bedding! Suppose my next design is going to require Another’s approval as well. He’s got pretty good taste though, I must admit. He did a great job picking out a sheet set for my bed before I got here. I should take pictures.

    Me and Jen
    I just discovered the only other person I’ve ever heard to have the middle name “Linn” with my spelling. Maybe I should write her a letter or something. (I discovered that while reading the encyclopedia of stage names.)

    Lost in Translation
    eftpos (eff-poss)
    abbr. Electronic Funds Transfer – Point Of Sale. Australian equivalent of the American debit card.
    “I need to get cash first, because they don’t take eftpos.”

    We had a comical conversation after a few weeks of me being back here. All along, I thought Hans was saying “F-Pass”… having no idea what that would be, but knowing that it was basically a debit card. Then one day we were at McDonald’s, and they had a sign saying that the EFTPOS wasn’t working.

    I said, “Is THAT what you’ve been saying??”

    He laughed and asked what I thought he had been saying. And after making him say “f-pass” with his accent, he had to admit that they basically sound the same.

    Posted in Nothing in Particular.

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  25. Christmas List
    ~ I ♥ these tealight candle holders
    ~ I also seriously dig this handbag in blue or tan.

    Erm… Not Safe Here Either
    I’m not particularly thrilled about the terrorism in oz reports, considering that this is the biggest city I’ve ever lived in and I take public transport daily. I wasn’t too worried in Nashville, and even less so in the middle of Cornfield, Iowa. Just glad it wasn’t in Brisbane.

    Lost in Translation
    youse (yooz)
    pron. you, all inclusive
    “Are youse going to be home for tea tonight?”

    At first I thought this was a joke, but everyone uses it. I suppose it’s the Australian equivalent to “y’all”.

    Gotta run!

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