If I told you there were was an island near Perth that is overrun with little brown wallabies of a variety that lived nowhere else in the world, would you believe me? How about if I told you they had little t-rex arms? Would you believe me if I told you it's Australia's secret shame and nobody ever goes there because they once ate a baby? They live in spinifex grass, make money by inventing subtly risque jingles for insurance commercials and eat nothing but bratwurst. Except for that one time.
There is now six and a bit weeks until I have to say goodbye to my leggings and put on some proper pants for my move over to the big smoke, Melbourne city. Melbourne is the hipster capital of the world, the kind of place where if you can make a good sketch of a Holga camera dangling off a fixed-gear bike in your little black moleskine notebook, you're going to make it. It's down at the very bottom of Australia and right on the other side, so not only is it very far away but it's also very cold a lot of the time. To make up for the terrible weather, Melbourne provides a vastly greater supply of adorable Cosby sweaters. In fact, Melbourne is where the Coogi was born before continuing on to great fame on Biggie's back. Unique to the area are horse face knits and the lesser known wattle with a pair of parrots--the collector's holy grail.
My plans in Melbourne are many. I would like to write a book. So far my notes detail the story about a cook who is obsessed with finding out how much mayonaise a person can eat before they realise they can never eat it, see it or think about it ever again. I'm thinking about changing it to pumpkin because I don't like mayonaise but I really, really like pumpkin. The problem is, though, that you can actually eat quite a lot of pumpkin before you start feeling sick. I have some work to do.
The animals I was describing earlier are called quokkas and they are one of Australia's most interesting and naturally preserved species of marsupial. They can be found only on Rottnest Island off Perth and in my next door neighbour's aviary.
I just want to make it clear to my readers that I provide my own three keywords for each of these blog posts but I am really not an imaginative writer (see the paragraph about mayonaise, above) so I am asking you to provide them for me. Just write down three words and email them to showmeyourswagger@gmail.com. Also, if you have ever eaten a whole lot of mayonaise and know what happens, let me know. Who knows, you might see a royalty cheque or two, or an invitation to my launch party. I will at least give you free lifetime admission to my Graceland-style mansion.
