Definition — Christmas

Way I first heard it used — "How cute is Britney Chrissy shopping with her boys?"

Jenn: I saw a bunch of hot supermodel bikini pictures from Sydney today. They were in Tanarama ... if that exists.

Me: You mean Tamarama.

Jenn:  Oh. I thought that was a great name for a beach... Tanarama

Picture caption: "Tama" is the beach to the right and Bronte is to the left. Taken on the cliff walk from Bondi.

In Australia, even the sky is happy!

Picture caption: Skywriting in Bondi Beach

Definition — McDonald's

Way I first heard it used — "My favorite fries are from Maccas" *

*My response was "Oh really! Mine are from McDonald's", which caused a bit of teasing.

Sydney is a very windy city which I quickly learned when I started going to the NW office in the CBD. At first I'd wear dresses to work, but then changed to jeans after experiencing a few Marilyn Monroe moments while walking down the street. I thought I'd solved my underwear-flashing problem but turns out, I was wrong.

First off let me explain: I'm one of those people that eats way past the point of being full. This often leads to me getting a small food belly after large meals. If I was a celebrity, I'd be on baby bump watch every week a la Eva Longoria. When I'm wearing anything tight around my waist, i.e. jeans or shorts, I tend to unbutton them during/after eating. If it was a really yummy dish, I also unzip. There - I said it. It's not the most ladylike thing but I learned this tactic from my mother, who I hold fully responsible for this habit.

Today I decided to wear my too-tight ripped jeans. They are my favorite pair of denim but have never quite fit right comfortably, so I always wear them with long tops in preparation for when I'll have to readjust them after lunch or dinner. This morning I opted for a long plaid button down since I'm about to go to a Keith Urban concert and I wanted to get into country mode. I had a delicious bowl of chicken laksa at lunch and then popped out of the office for some fresh air. A big gust of wind came and whisked my hair around. "Oh it's such a gorgeous day!" I thought to myself as I strolled in the sun with a smile on my face, excited to be in perfect-weather Australia. Another big wind came and I noticed that people were turning to look at me and giggling to themselves, which is never a good sign.

With the third bout of wind I looked down and realized what they were laughing at. Yup. Every time the wind hit me it was blowing my shirt up and exposing my little food belly......and my unbuttoned, unzipped crotch. To make matters worse, I haven't done laundry in a few weeks so all that was left was my lime green lace underwear which stood out loudly against my pale jeans, shouting "Hello, look at me!" to the world.

Guess I'm more of a Lindsay Lohan than an Eva Longoria.

Picture caption: This is a photograph Nina took of Hyde Park, which is right outside of my office and where I was walking at the time. Unfortunately, it wasn't this empty when I exposed myself.

Definition:  kissing*

Way I first heard it used: "He started pashing me in the hallway."

*my opinion is that it's short for passionately kissing, but that's an unconfirmed theory

I began working at New Weekly last week, an Australian celebrity gossip magazine. It's emails like this one, that circulated among the writers, that make me appreciate the like-minded individuals in this industry. From Aletha, our entertainment editor:

Is it wrong of me to admire this teen murderer’s hair? It looks like it’s been blowdried, but it can’t have, because she’s in jail. Wish I had hair like that.

You know when a close friend of yours calls you after you haven’t talked in a few weeks and you really, really want to talk to them but don’t think you have enough time or energy to sit and recap everything that’s been going on during your radio silence? So you let the phone ring and ring and then eventually as you contemplate whether you should pick it up, it just ends up going to voicemail and so you save the message to remind yourself to return that person’s call. And then a few days go by and you think of something you really want to tell them but you look at your watch — or cell phone cuz really, who wears a watch these days anyways? — and you think ‘Ughh I really have to do this random thing in five minutes and that’s not nearly enough for me to fully catch up with them.’ So then you put it off and put it off and keep resaving your voicemail until finally you call them back and they say “What’s been going on with you?” and you think of all the 489 things you could tell them and how much has happened and how crazy your life has been and you just respond with “Oh, not much. You?”

Yeah. That’s pretttttty much how I feel about this blog right now. I’ve been taking meticulous notes throughout the last month and a half I’ve been in Sydney. I’ve written various fun facts down like “baby koalas eat their moms poop to help them digest the toxicity of eucalyptus leaves” and “the Australian coat of arms has the kangaroo and the emu on it because neither animal is capable of walking backwards.” Well in actuality, I wrote down the Australian flag had those animals, and after telling that tidbit to 12 different people, many of whom are Australian, only one called me out and noted the Australian flag has no animals on it whatsoever. Flag. Coat of arms. Whatever. I also wrote in the margin “Something there” because I thought I could make a great parallel between the reasons I moved to Australia and the idea of not walking backwards, but I haven’t come up with it yet. Work in progress.

On my list was also an explanation of the phrase “That’s alright” which I initially heard when I was leaving a house party in Vaucluse. I thanked the host for inviting me over and she patted me on the back and said “That’s alright.” I immediately wondered what I had done wrong and why she was comforting me. Had I insulted her in some way? Did I stain her white carpet with ketchup (or tomato sauce if you are from Oz)? Turns out it’s just another Australian way of saying “No worries”, “Sure” or “You’re welcome.” I heard it again when Nina and I went to Byron and I walked over to what I thought was our hostel’s shuttle bus into town. I told the female driver that Nina was grabbing her hoodie and asked if she could please wait for her to join us. She gave me the obligatory “That’s alright” and I hopped on the bus. I noted that there was a huge bong and some suitcases scattered around the backseat and thought, wow this really is a hippy town if the hostel bus has pot paraphernalia in it. (Can you see where this is going?) Nina came in a minute later and we asked the bus to take us to Cheeky Monkeys, a local bar where you dance on tables. The girls on the bus looked at us funny and said, “Well we are going to the beach, but we can drop you off.” Confused I looked at her and said, “Aren’t you the shuttle bus into the city?” No of course not. They were just uber-friendly Australian hippy chicks who allowed random girls to jump into their van and arrogantly proclaim where to drop them off. Americans. Can’t take them anywhere. And here I'd been silently making fun of them for their greasy roots and birkenstocks.

Anyways, those were just some of the things I’ve been wanting to write about. I also had a funny bit about Movember, the month where Aussie boys grow out moustaches to benefit various men’s charities. I would tell you all about it but … I really have to wash my hair.

Picture captions: The top photo is of Byron Beach right before sunset. The second one down on the left is my first koala. Not to be called koala bear, that's a common misconception. The third to the right is a random painted double decker bus parked at the Byron hostel I stayed at called The Arts Factory.

Definition — vomit

Way I first heard it used — "She was all about the vomie last night."