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The post that's worth 10,000 words, but contains far fewer
September 27, 2004

Alright, so here's the picture post number 1... Half of our pictures may indeed be gone forever, but I’m diligently working to make sure that doesn't happen (server bad - not wanting to work - all pictures backed up on server - want to kill server). All of the pictures taken in Oz were done by the B, as he had the awesome camera, and I was just plain lazy. However, this does make it so that I actually ended up in some of the pictures. Rollover for explanations. Hopefully, I'll have the next set up within the next couple of days. Unfortunately, they're not in any chronological order at all. Enjoy.

Butterfly at Port Douglas - It wouldn't keep still enough to get the back of its wings, which were bright blue and blackUluru, at sunsetClouds in the outback - the pic doesn't do justice to them. I stood for 15 minutes just watching them change shape, my mouth agape.About a quarter of the way up the first climb at King's Canyon. That's me in the hat, striking a pose.The traveling SPAM and my Nalgene bottle at a watering hole in King's CanyonMe with Kata Tjuta in the backgrounds, before our hike between domes 2 & 3.
The Garden of Eden watering hole in King's Canyon. I could have spent hours here - it was so eerily calm, with just the calls of birds to break the silence.After the climb back up from the watering hole, I felt it neccessary to take a bit of a rest.Myself, as a plane, in front of the laundromat in Port Douglas.Bleary-eyed after breakfast at our hotel in Port DouglasCircular Quay station, with the Sydney Harbour Bridge on the left, and the Opera House peeking out on the right.The 'friendly' parrot who was trying to take my finger off at Featherdale Wildlife Park, Blacktown

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A kind-of list:
September 20, 2004

At 25, I am still getting zits. As a teenager, I didn’t have bad skin, but I wasn’t little-miss-porcelain, either. I had had some of what I would call “normal” acne, but nothing that made me want to stay home for fear of putting out eyes. Now, as an adult, I still get breakouts every once in a while, and it Bugs. The. Hell. Out. Of. Me. This is ridiculous; zits aren’t a big deal, but I hate having them on my face – even little bitty ones. Does one ever stop getting zits?

Ms. Lazy-Pants:
Instead of loading pictures onto my computer from Oz, trimming them down to comfortable sizes, and posting them here, I played Sims 2 all weekend. The pics will be up soon, just when, I cannot say.

At the bar on Saturday night, Amychan was talking crap about crap. From what I recall, it was all rather funny. I wish I could remember what she said. Gee, that makes me sound like a drunk. I’m not, really. The music was loud, and there was lots of stuff going on. Shaddup.

Though I just got back from a holiday abroad, I am feeling rather jealous of my friends Sara, Corey, and Zach, as they are all in the UK right now, just on a little romp before starting their respective jobs in France. Am I wrong to be jealous?

Today is Monday, which means that work will go quickly, so I can get back home to play Sims 2 more. Erm, and go to the gym.

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...then I clicked my heels thrice
September 14, 2004

Days back from holiday: 3
Days spent thinking about said holiday: 3
Days wanting to go back on holiday: 3

Oz was bloody fantastic. I amazed myself by being completely fearless: snorkeling in fish-infested reefs (despite my mother’s voice inside my head chanting, “you’re going to get eaten by a shark!”), parasailing above the blue South Pacific (“you’re going to get eaten by a shark!”), flying incredibly low over reefs in a helicopter (“you’re going to crash, then get eaten by a shark!”), and suffering the worst turbulence ever in a half-filled 747 well over the Pacific (sharks, again). Thanks for the memories, mum. I stuffed my face with TimTams and Cadburys, took whole cream in my coffee, and hiked canyons. Let me tell you kids, Oz has it all, including far fewer obese people than the good ‘ol US. Imagine that. How the aussies stay so not fat is beyond me.

The B and I went to Featherdale Wildlife Park the last day we were in Sydney. The park is in Blacktown, a slightly slummy suburb about 50 minutes by train from the center of Sydney. The trains are the generic commuter-types: double-decker, seats with backs that change directions, and no restrooms. It’s understandable that both the B and I needed to go as soon as we got into the station. We stepped into identical purple-lit rooms, like a restroom at a nightclub. The B had the brains to tell me that the lights are placed in there to prevent people from seeing their veins. You know, like heroin freaks. Duly noted, and fully grossed out, we hopped a taxi to the Park instead of taking the bus from the station.

Once we arrived at the Park, however, all creepiness was aside, as the cuteness of the kangaroos, wombats, koalas, and kookaburras far outweighed the thought of junkies shooting up. We were able to visit with our adopted children: koalas named Karrie and Scribbly. We also fed kangaroos and laughed it up with kookaburras. Enchanting, it was.

Pictures and tales will be forthcoming in due time – I left the photography to the boy, as he had the good camera, whereas I had the crappy one. I should have them up in a couple of days. Promise. All in all, I’m glad to be back with my kitty, but wish we had had more time in Sydney.

In another note, I had to say goodbye to my dear friends Zach, Corey, and Sara, as all are flying over the Eastern puddle to live in La France for 7 months or so. All was teary and hiccuppy and sad. I do, of course, wish them a wonderful time, though I am more than a little jealous. I will, however, be going over to see them early next year, so it’s really not like it’s goodbye forever.

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