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