In just over a week I will be leaving for my Australian excursion to see some of the funniest, dearest, most clever and kind group of friends that I have.
It's hard to imagine that I would never have had a chance of meeting any of these people if I hadn't started writing a blog. I had intended it to be just a nice way to record my absurd thoughts, stories and musings without having to actually organize it in any way.
Then you find out that people, actual people, are reading your writing and getting your warped version of reality and often coming back to read more. So what was just supposed to be some pseudo-literary masturbation on my part became a link to this weird new world.
Shit, I haven't written anything funny or remotely kranki in this post. I've disappointed you just as I anxiously look forward to disappointing some of you in person. You'll be able to spot me as I will be the scrawny guy who looks as if he's been trapped on a plane for over 15 hours straight. I intend to keep myself unconscious, sedated, intoxicated, tranquilized and generally detatched from the conscious world for the duration.
My god! Who will be sitting next to me for all that time? I abhor standing in an elevator with people for anything more than 3 floors. I pray to the unholy spirits of chaos to be merciful on me. Nobody with a pungent perspiration problem, not some woman with 700 pictures of her grandchildren or her cats. Nobody who wants to make it their mission to be my new best friend or to share the story of their life. Not some person with one of those persistent, hacking coughs. Nobody who is wearing far too much perfume or cologne. No droolers, tweakers or talkers and above all please, please no body odor issues. How about a nice well-mannered, young Asian girl who doesn't take up much space, gets up once to use the bathroom the entire flight and is far too shy to engage in anything that remotely resembles a conversation. Hear my humble pagan prayers for me. Come on Fate, I'm counting on you. If you help me out I'll bring you back a fuzzy koala keychain.
P.S. Also No couples into P.D.A and no children under 14.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
21 comments:
*counts down the days*
Maybe if you try really hard to do all of those things you're hoping your travel companion won't be doing, you'll end up scaring the other person away to find somewhere else to sit! That way, you'll have the entire two or three seats to yourself.
That's what I did on my trip to America last year. Only it was Wifey who was sitting next to me. She eventually moved away and sat in the aisle, though.
It was great!
Oh, and when you arrive, be sure to tell the first lovely lady you see (especially if she's a customs officer) that you can see her fanny and you think it's very nice.
Australian women love to be complimented on their backsides!! Use this same line on all the women you meet out here!
(But be sure to use the word 'fanny' - it's the highest praise you can give an Aussie chick and will ensure that you score repeatedly.)
Even nuns love it!
How about this? "Good news dollface. They just appointed me to be the American Ambassador to your fanny."
The Official Kranki Kountdown counts down to the moment Kranki boards the plane in LA. 225 hours to go!
Make sure you let all the ladies know you're rooting for them as well.
While we're on the topic, here's a list of translations that may help you blend in with the locals and look all manner of wise. I have given the words and phrases you need to say when you're in Australia, and then the equivalent meaning to you as an American.
I have also taken the liberty of providing a working example of these phrases, so you know best how to impress our fine ladies.
Australian = American
1. Whore = Intelligent Woman
(ie. "You look like a whore, madam. Could you help me find the VD clinic?")
2. Lard-Arse = Snappy Dress Style
(ie. "I couldn't help noticing your lard-arse; would you care to dance?")
3. Bush Pig = Someone With A Broad Local Knowledge Of The Community
(ie. "Hello miss, I believe you're the one everyone around here refers to as the Bush Pig. Can you advise me of the closest hospital? I seem to be suffering a lot of injuries to the groin by all the whores with lard-arses.")
Here's one to use down at the "pub" ("bar") when you'd like to get to know the group of Aussie bikers sitting over there:
4. Poof = American Tourist Looking To Make Some Aussie 'Mates'
(ie. "Hi fellas, I'm a Poof and I was wondering if I could buy each of you a drink?")
And finally, this is a great one to yell out in the bar of the airport lounge, shortly before your return flight home is scheduled to depart:
5. Al Quada Terrorist = Fun Loving Guy
(ie. "I'm an Al Quada Terrorist! Who wants to party like there's no tomorrow?"
Welcome to our friendly country. I wish you the best of luck.
Ahahahah BEVIS. You are funny.
Check-in early and nab an emergency exit seat, that way at least you have some more room and can stretch out a bit.
I was going to write something else here but the Boy Wonder is yelling at me. I know I shouldn't pay any attention to a manchild who admitted that yesterday's Oprah episode made him cry, but I don't see him so much these days and fuck off any (semi-)grown man should be able to admit that daytime tv watches them cry.
You know, I'm not even certain if you're being facetious or genuine, there ...
But I'll take it as a compliment anyway. :)
That countdown kind of scares me.
You'd damn-well better!
I paid good money to see the flaming purple rabbit!
make sure you go see the thing on the corner of bourke and elizabeth in melbourne. Giant purse or giant clam? YOU decide.
Isn’t life amazing when you realise that you are exceedingly loved before you have been met?
Looking forward to the ‘met’ bit.
Lee X
Hm... "met" eh?
Ukelele, you have good taste in movies and love Steve Martin, so chances are good that I'll let you get close to second base but nothing beneath my bra.
Desci: Giant Clam-Purse. I'm intrigued.
So does that mean cupping is acceptable?
That really depends on how many drinks you ply me with. My mom warned me about girls like you.
"Beware of women with musical instrument knicknames," she always said.
Your Momma sounds like a wise woman, Kranki.
I best not invite my pals Bassoon and Oboe to drinks then.
Does that mean I can't come either?
From looking at your picture you look like you might be French... Bevis.
This is you, right Bevis?
Cause if it's a legit Horny Girl that has no connection with Lucifer of the Dark Forces of Evil then I insist that she come. Several times. Know what we can work around the whole evil thing if this isn't just Bevis or MattB riding on their pun wagon.
Er, *ahem* ... sorry Kranks.
Guilty as charged. Well done, though.
I am simply delighted that after this long, we can play Murder Marry Fight Fuck over sex pizza and discuss the hideousness of chimp-cock in person. See you soon, spunky brewster x
Post a Comment