Living on a prayer

My record for perfect attendance in Australia has fallen. People have asked me if I skip classes all the time. The answer is no. I only have class four days a week and nothing before 1 in the afternoon, so I have a hard time justifying not going. But yesterday my friends and I decided that our time was better served at the beach instead of stuck in poetry class. Good times.

One of the greatest moments in my life happened last Friday in a Perth club. While I was in line waiting to use the bathroom, Living on a Prayer started to blast through the speakers. It was live music, but I did not catch the name of the band, so I can't give any free advertising on this popular blog. Anyway, for those of you who don't happen to have a y chromosome, I must explain something to you. There is a certain comradely inside men's bathroom where the majority of the users have been drinking heavily. I realize this previous sentence may raise some eyebrows, but it's true. Jokes are cracked left and right, people are talking with each other (mainly about how much they have to pee, but still) and nobody is fighting. Anyway, when the chorus for Living on a Prayer came on, EVERYONE in the bathroom started to sing it. It was quite a sight. There was not one person in there who wasn't singing. Even John was in shock afterwards at how great a moment that was. If Ole Choir ever decided to modernize their playlist, that's what it sounded like. Truly a tremendous moment.

With steroid use accusations running dominating the headlines on ESPN.com, I would like to take this time to answer any suspicions anyone has about me and using steroids. Although I am a dominant athlete in intramural beach volleyball at Curtin, I want to say that I am 100% clean and have never taken performance enhancing drugs, despite video evidence of the contrary. Ok, so I was accidentally exposed to dangerous amounts of gamma radiation, but I swear it wasn't on purpose. 

Finally, I've decided that I want to become good at chess. I've been dedicating at least an hour of free time a day to playing it online with people. My first game I was checkmated in four moves, but since then I've improved considerably. I realize it seems kinda nerdy, because it kind of is, but the truth is despite my outward coolness I can be an undercover dork. I really want to be pretty good at something, so I think chess is as good an option as any. Some of the terminology can be really confusing, but so far I've been really diligent learning it. Just call me Grandmaster Kramer

That's all for now

PK

So a couple days ago my friends ask me to play on their intermural mixed netball team. For those of you who don't know what netball is, it's sort of like ultimate basketball. There's two sides of seven people who try to shoot the ball into their respective twelve foot high basket. Once you get the ball, you can't move though. There are two people on each team who are allowed to shoot the ball, everyone else has to play defense or work the ball up the court to these two people. I immediately volenteered to be a shooter. The other thing is when you shoot, the defender has to stand three feet away, which is probably the greatest thing ever for me. The girl who was guarding me was about a foot shorter than I was, so I had my team just throw the ball up where only I can get it. A little unfair, but this is war here.

luck

Ok so it's been a while since I wrote anything, and to all three of my readers, I apologize. These entries take forever to write, and since I can be a lazy bum, it shouldn't be surprising anyone that I took a two month sebatical. I realize how much I actually liked writing in this thing, and I'm kicking myself for not keeping up with it. When I started this blog, I thought I'd just write in it a few times and forget about it. Well that's exactly what happened. But no more! I will continue to write in this thing for years to come, expanding on it from just about my time in Australia. On to it!

My campus can sometimes have a problem with the local population. Every once in a while there will be a random attack on a Curtin student by someone from the area. Sometimes it's a beating, sometimes it's a robbery, sometimes it's both. The key is to not take unnecessary risks, such as walking at night, traveling in a group, and not walking alone at night while waving a bunch of cash shouting that you are helpless to defend yourself. Just basic stuff. One night, about a month and a half ago, a few of my friends and I were barbequeing in the central area of my housing complex. I forgot the honey mustard in my flat so I walked back to get it, because everyone knows that everything goes better with honey mustard. That's just a fact, and there's nothing you can do about it. Anyway, as I was walking back, I saw three teenagers with golf clubs walking around. Figuring they were either campus golfers, or night-time golf enthusiasts, I waved to them. One of them nodded back to me and we went our seperate ways. I returned to the grill with the honey mustard, and no less than two minutes later, I spotted campus security and Perth police running around the area. I later learned those teenagers were not avid midnight golfers. They actually use the clubs to break windows and steal computers, or just to jump people, which they did to somebody soon after I saw them. And to think, they got a head-nod from me. 

I like to joke that I'm cool with the local organized crime (they did have a plan after all) of suburbian Perth, but this got me thinking about how lucky I am. I'm 6-1, 220 pounds (probably a little bigger than that now). My parents have stopped worrying about me getting kidnapped for a while now. The thing is with me, I don't know the first thing about fighting. But even still, I tend to win the benefit of the doubt. That's where I'm lucky. How many times on Law and Order have you seen a guy as big as me get kidnapped? Never. A kidnapper, a mugger, what-have-you wants to deal with someone they think can be easily overpowered. Sure someone my size in the show might die from a brutal revenge plot from a bar spat, but I don't need to worry about that, since I'm a happy drinker. Seriously though, if, say, three guys with golf clubs have to pick between me and the next guy they see to mug, more often than not they'll choose the next guy. I guess that's  what we call luck. 

How I Ruined My Passport

So I was bragging to my friend Stu about how little actual work I have, and he made me feel guilty by telling me about his upcoming schedule, proving once and for all that people who go to St. Olaf have more work than God did when he was throwing the Earth together. Its been about a week now, so lets get to the updates.

About a week ago John, Andrew and I went to a little island off the coast of Perth called Rottnest Island. Rottnest is known for two things, first is having one of the ugliest names of any place anywhere, and the other is for its pristine beaches. I have been called a "beach connoisseur" or a "beach snob" by a few people, which I resent. I only want to find the scenery like you see in those relaxing posters. And you better believe I did. Andrew John and I rented bikes and began the search. About 30 minutes after we got on the ferry to the island, we found one that seemed nice.

Now I know most of my readers are trying to survive the frigid winter in America right now, and are probably screaming at their computer that I should be grateful for this, but I strive for perfection, so I wasn't entirely satisfied. Around the time I came to this realization, Andrew decided to explore some rocks at the side of the beach.

About ten minutes later he came running back excitedly, telling me "I found this great little cove that would be perfect for having sex with a girl in." (I decided to clean up the language a bit since this is a family blog) I followed him to it with caution, as I still wasn't sure about his intentions after his comment describing the place. But I must say, that cove was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

Really, everything I've ever wanted to see in a beach: seclusion, white sand, clear cerulean water. I couldn't have asked for more. It was exactly the kind of beach you see in a commercial or poster, and I couldn't have been happier. I plan on seeing it again in the next week. Anyway, moving on, during my stay at Rottnest, I was also able to play with quokkas. What are quokkas, you ask? My movie should give you some idea. They were the one of the cutest creatures I've ever seen. They're like a cross between mice and mini kangaroos. Andrew and I passed about five of them surrounding a German girl along the bike route, so we pulled over and fed them some bread that the girl gave to us. Overall, finding perfect beaches and playing with cute fuzzy animals spells a good day in my book.

So last Tuesday I had the infamous sexology desensitization video. For those of you who haven't read my earlier posts, go read them, for those of you who are too lazy to do that, the sexology desensitization video is pretty much self explanatory. It serves as a mechanism to get people in the class to feel alright talking openly about different kinds of sex topics by bombarding the students with a bunch of graphic images and movies. For the record this is NOT PORN. These were everyday people you see on the street doing this stuff. We were forced to take notes watching the movie as well, and since I think typing some of these up should really give you an idea of what I saw and my reaction to it. I'll give you some background context first on what I was watching when I took said not. Here it goes:

Girl and guy having sex: "Whoa, that's a LOT of hair."

Man "pleasuring" himself: "Holy crap this guy is beating off!"

"Where's he going with that finger? NO NO NOOOOOOOO AHHHHHHH"

"Wow I did not need to see that"

Male gay couple: "Ok, stop kissing nnnnooowww, damn it, ok stop kissing now. Well that didn't work."

Wheelchair sex: "Huh, I didn't know guys in wheelchairs could have sex."

People in their 70's having sex: "I wonder if I can secretly hit the scene skip button without anyone noticing."

So that was the desensitization video. For about 30 minutes afterwards John, Andrew, and I were basically zombies as we walked back to our dorm. I think you call that Post-traumatic stress, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I think the worst part of the whole ordeal was that I just so happened to sit closest to the computer which was playing the movie because there just so happened to be a really comfortable chair there. This meant I was forced to get up every ten minutes for the duration of an hour and a half to move the mouse so that the computer wouldn't go into screen saver mode. Those that know me understand I value comfort above all else, and can't fathom how much of an annoyance getting up every ten minutes from a very comfy chair was to me. Honestly, I remember that more than anything from the movie. 

There were two kick-ass parties at the school Tavern this week. One was a toga party on Wednesday and the other was the semester blowout "Beach Bash" on Friday. My toga, made using a lovely bed sheet passed up no opportunity to fall apart.

The picture doesn't show it, but I was very excited to safety dance and such. Really, I haven't been this excited since I found out they were making a Transformers 2. Clearly I had the best pins at the party. In this picture, Andrew has dull and unimaginative khaki colored pins while I have bright and colorful pastel pins that was almost as imaginative as this. You can easily guess who's toga was the hit of the party. There was one kid who kept on shouting "TO-GA TO-GA TO-GA" but that malarkey was immediately ended. Beach Bash was even better had I not ruined my passport. What people don't tell you about Australia is that foreigners MUST carry their passport with them in order to get into bars or clubs, even the one on campus. The bouncers do not accept any other forms of ID and will not let you in until you flash your passport. I tried to flash my million dollar smile, but I was just a couple bucks short of passing. Anyway, foreseeing this problem, I put my passport in two plastic baggies and into my swim pocket. The bar this bash was held at was basically turned into a beach on land, with 8 hot tubs, sand everywhere, live music (techno, my second favorite genre after 80's), 4 bars, and a foam machine. There must have been at least 600 kids there. What I'm trying to say is that it was awesome, but I digress. As soon as I jumped in a hot tub with a few of my friends, I felt my passport, and to my horror I felt the texture of soaking wet paper. The zip lock bags leaked! The damage was done so I continued to have fun, but now it's all wrinkly, and the holograms barley work, so I'm going to have to look into the validity of this thing very soon. IT'S MY PASSPORT FOR GOD SAKE. How could I be so stupid. Anyway, I must look forward, not backward and push on.

Take care.

Paul

Bathroom Wars and Other Goodies

After the Top Gun post, I thought I'd write about other recent events that have been going on in my life. On to it!

People want to know what school is like in Perth. I like to compare it to Saved By The Bell: The College Years, mainly because I've seen at least three mullets here that are on par AC Slater's. Honestly I'm not sure what to compare it to, as I've never had classes like these before. What I mean by that is they're extremely easy. For example, all my Australian Studies class requires this entire semester is three 2-3 page responses to our field trips (people from St. Olaf may now throw their computer in a jealous rage. Go on, I won't go anywhere. Done? Ok). John, Andrew and I are taking a sexology class. I just had the introduction this week, and next week we'll be watching a desensitization video so that we'll be more comfortable with the material. Some people might think it's cool we get to watch porn in class, but our teacher made it clear that this was anything but porn. She said this movie was made in the '70s, a time when nobody did any sort of body hair grooming. It contains people in wheelchairs having sex, and other things I can't remember off the top of my head, but I promise to tell you all about it after I see it Tuesday. Im pretty sure I'll feel so traumatized that no amount of cleaning will help me. So how did we get here? Oh yeah, basically classes are easy.

The other day I played basketball with some Australians and was able to introduce my soaking-wet jumpshot to the land down under. Basically I dominated more than Michael Jordan did against the Monstars. I also introduced inadvertent hacking and egregious fouling to the Australians as well. How else am I supposed to guard someone who's 50 pounds lighter than me? Pretty soon my opponents were begging me to have mercy on them, but I would hear none of it. My two-inch-vertical and I put on a clinic in rebounding my own shot five times in a row before finally making the basket. Yes ladies and gentlemen, it was quite a sight to see.

Finally, an update on the bathroom wars. I will not stop until this mystery girl flatmate is completely broken. She left a note under my door explaining that she is disgusted that I continue to use the bathroom she designated for the girls for my morning sit on the throne. She's weakening! I must continue to be on the offensive. I don't understand what she means by disgusted though. I apply the same mantra I use for camping as I do for the bathroom: leave no footprints or skidmarks behind. I think she has the the wrong person if that's what she has a problem with. I must figure out how I can use this to my advantage. Some of you out there might be wondering: Paul are you that petty? Why can't you just go to the left toilet. I'll answer those for you. Yes I am that petty, and right is my favorite direction.  Derek Zoolander and I have three things in common: We are really really good looking, we're even better looking doing blue steel, and we avoid going left at all costs. For instance, when I'm driving, I hate turning left, I never feel like I have enough time to do this and I'm not going to see an oncoming car until it hits me, and afterwards I'll be sued and the other person will win and take my old lego spaceship set. And who wants that. So I guess I'm going to be turning right to the bathroom until this mystery girl's fighting spirit is crushed.

Until next time,

Paul

Going Right

Its been about five days since I've arrived in Perth, so I guess this is due for an update. My first full day here I was completely useless and passed out from jetlag for about 18 hours. John and Andrew, who are also from my college and doing this semester with me (They'll be referred to a lot in this blog) had been here for three days when I arrived and just drank the jetlag out of them. Now I am all about responsibility, so I decided not to go down that route. Classes didn't start until the week after I got here, I just had to be around for one two hour orientation meeting on Monday, and for the rest of this week I have been free from school commitments. The bars and beaches have been frequented a lot since I've been here. Let me tell you something about Australians: they love to get into fights with each other. I think I've seen more fights here than I have my entire life, and I once saw the opening frenzy at Kay-Bee's Toys after they got a new shipment of Power Rangers. 

About 15 my friends and I went to a casino and nightclub last night. After giving people three hours of my white man's overbite dance, I was ready to hit the floors and begin the hunt for the blackjack tables. As I sit down at a $10 table I am horrified to look to the dealer's left and find the bane of gambling existence: The automatic shuffler. Now I have only been to casinos 4 times before this, all while I was in France this summer. Twice I went to a place with no automatic shufflers, doubling my money both times, and twice I went to a place with the gambler's worst nightmare, and was lucky to leave with my socks (they're really comfortable). I took the same amount of money every time I go, which isn't much, so in the end I broke even, but I learned to avoid the gambler's Roger Klotz (a reference to Doug, for those of you still wondering) when I can. I knew I should have gotten up and walked away, but I had a vodka-redbull in me and felt like I could conquer anything. That didn't happen. I wasn't entirely cleaned but I knew there was no way I'd win back what I lost, so I left while I still had some chips left. 

The other day I tried surfing for the first time. I've always been a little leery towards surfing ever since The Brady Bunch went to Hawaii and Greg almost killed himself during the surfing competition. However, unlike Greg, I wasn't wearing an evil tiki statue, so the chances of that happening to me were slim. While I didn't get to the point of standing up while riding a wave, I did look very cool sitting in the water on my surfboard, and really, that's all that matters.

I live with 4 other people in my flat, two other guys and two girls. One of the girls seems intent on segregating our two toilets, trying to claim the one on the right for the vaginas. Not going to happen. I've been using the right toilet since I've arrived, and I'm not about to part with it now. While there is no actual difference between the toilet closets, I feel a bond with the right, as it has always welcomed me the morning after a night of beer and and Dominos. I can't just abandon our entire history, and to expect me to do so is ludicrous. I don't understand their problem. Its been almost three days since I've stopped peeing on the seat and duct taping it into the "up" position. The battle has begun, girl flatmate, and I'm digging in my heels. There will be no actual confrontation on my part, just a guerrilla war that I'm in for the long haul.

Until next time

Paul

flying

Here's a running diary of my travel to Perth ( all times are approximate)

9:10: I arrive at the Kennedy Airport where I have my first drink as a 21 year old.

11:24: I sit down in the plane and immediatly browse the movies TV screen in front of me carries.

11:27: I finish flipping through the "New Releases" category and come to the realization that the recent releases sucked. Just kidding with that clip. If that were playing, I would have totally watched it.

11:29: I stumble upon what looks to be a promising category: Film Club- All Time Greats.

11:30: Looks promising, I can watch classic movies I had never seen before, like Casablanca, Dirty Harry, and oh what's that one? Mars Attacks? Seriously, Mars Attacks is in this category. Yes that Mars Attacks. 

11:32: A closer look at the category reveals it also has "The Mask". One of my all time favorites growing up. Jim Carry during the good years, as well as a puberty inducing  Cameron Diaz. Can't go wrong with that. I immediately forgive Emerates Air for their Mars Attacks gaff.

11:40: After checking out all the movies, I start to look at the music, focusing on the #1 Hits in the UK from 1953-2008.

11:45: Since this is a 12 hour flight to Dubai, I decide to rank the best years of UK #1 hits starting at 1980. Nothing like a good list to pass the time

11:56: Anyone who knows me understand I have an affinity for 80's music, and let me tell you, 1983 and 1984 are looking very nice. Check out some of the top hits of 1983:

99 Red Balloons- Nena

Relax- Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Hello- Lionel Richie

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go- Wham!

I Just Called To Say I Love You- Stevie Wonder

and 1984:

Uptown Girl-Billy Joel

Candy Girl- New Edition

Every Breath You Take- The Police

Land Down Under- Men At Work

And of course, the greatest song in the history of man: Total Eclipse of the Heart- Bonnie Tyler.

I defy you to think of a better murderers row of songs.

12:19: I try to listen to all of mmmbop without they guy next to me noticing. Kinda self-conscious about that one.

12:32: My rowmate leaves, I can listen to Hanson without fear of judgement.

12:50: I discover the joys of 30 Rock. I've always hated Alec Baldwin. Most people don't know that he spoke at my high school graduation, and he didn't seem to prepare for it until his limo was parked. His speech consisted of about 3298 unorganized papers, giving him such gems as "I have three words for you all: HELP CHANGE THE WORLD!" Thanks Alec, but I'll take my advice from someone who can count. That nonwithstanding, I still like 30 Rock.

2:30: I take a sleeping pill.

8:43: I wake up in a puddle of my own drool. This is an approximate time. I actually have no idea what time I woke up. There is nothing more disorientating than falling asleep on the plane. I have no idea how much sleep I actually get. It could be 9 minutes or 9 hours. But no matter what I never feel like it was long enough.

9:00: I begin to watch all of the Two and a Half Men episodes. Very underrated show. Also kinda polarizing. I love it but I know quite a few who don't. This usually begins a Jihad in most instances.

12:24: Land in Dubai.

12:48: I discover quite possibly the most awesome thing ever in existance: A French pastry shop called PAUL! Now I know quite a few people who have gone to Paris, and if any of them are reading this blog, I must ask: Why was I not informed of this place? A dessert shop named PAUL, you don't think I would have wanted to know about that? I would have never had a bad day if I knew that tidbit of information. Here are some pictures of the restaurant's awesomeness:

12:51: I decide to ask for a free bagel due to the fact the restaurant stole my name. I think its only fair, but the cashier begs to differ. I then try to use the fact the restaurant and I share a common bond. That didn't work either. I finally pay $4 for it.

12:52: mmm PAUL Bagel.

1:23: I get on the flight from Dubai to Perth, and realize there's a baby sitting two rows in front of me who won't stop screaming. I don't understand why airlines won't show where babies are located when you're picking out your seat. It's only fair. Sure the parents flying might be offended, but honestly, who cares? They're the ones hauling a screaming toddler who makes everyone within earshot miserable, and for what? The kid won't remember the trip at all, and is way more trouble than he's worth. You think I can recall my trip to Club Med when I was two? No, but I'm sure the people on my plane down remember me. I'm sure I was so loud I would have killed myself if I were someone else. If that makes any sense. I guess what I'm trying to say is parents shouldn't bring their kid under 3 on trips unless the only other option was to but him in foster care for a week.

1:30: My plane takes off from Dubai. I use this time to reflect on my trip to the Middle East. Most people talk about how much their stay in the Middle East changes them. I can't say I see it that way. I think they're blowing the problems there way out of proportion. I saw no poverty, I never felt anything above room temperature. I didn't encounter anyplace without running water, everyone seemed to have a laptop, I saw no oppression of women, except for the fact they didn't have access to the Men's bathroom (the outrage), the whole place seemed really clean too. I guess if my visit to the Dubai airport has taught me anything, its that I shouldn't believe everything I see in the news. 

2:10: Screaming kid, screaming kid, screaming kid. I want to scare him into silence, since nothing else seems to be working.

2:43: I start watching Death Race. I really want to know if Jason Statham looks for the most improbable scripts for his movies or if that's just how it works out. Seriously, look at his imdb: Crank, the Transporter series, and now Death Race, not a lot of Oscar winners in that category. He one "The Pacifier" away from becoming Vin Diesel.

4:05: Here's a taste of Death Race so you understand why I might come back from this trip without half my brain cells (the drinking doesn't help).

5:10: I pop another sleeping pill to drown out the uncontrollable baby.

11:30: I wake up in PERTH! my adventure begins.