Sort Of.

I'm going to have to write about this more at length. But about my recent statement, with which Adam agreed (because smart people agree with each other, or at least, with me), the situation requires a bit of fleshing out. I just finished the Brisbane leg of my trip, and my hostel there was everything I could hope for. I can't recommend it enough.

So, when I get back to the states, and have sweet, sweet unbridled internet access, I'll be non-live live-blogging (something I like to do) the entire three weeks (with pictures... maybe). And therein, I'll explain the trials and tribulations of staying in hostels as a twenty-eight something year old.

I'm in Sydney now, and will be home in a few days. Cra. Zy.

I'm Old.

I'm done with hostels.

Volcano? I Hardly Know Her.

We returned the rental car this morning, and I sort of miss the GPS system. We had named her Bubby (get it? anyone?), and sort of (read: unhealthily) grew attached. Let's just say, without her (yes, the GPS was female), it turns out that Annie and I have a lot less to say to each other than we thought. Like, nothing. At. All. (Kidding!)

But seriously, folks, we totally thought that the rental agents had an over-under on us as to whether we'd get the car back to them in one piece. I would swear that the dude checking us back in looked disappointed that we were unbruised and unscratched. Driving on the left is no easy feat, my friend. Our Lady of the Highways was good to us this week.

Tonight is my last night in Auckland. It feels weird. I didn't feel weird about leaving Melbourne because we have to stay there one night before moving on the Brisbane, so it didn't feel final. This does. Part of why I took this trip despite the winter in the southern hemisphere is because I just don't know when I'd ever get this long of a stretch of time to make the trip to this part of the world. (Yeah, corporate lawyers don't get a lot of free time.) So now, leaving a city, I don't know that I'll ever be back again. I don't know. It's a humbling thought. It's a small world (just ask Adam), but it's also friggin' huge.

On that note, Annie and I found a Dunkin' Donuts. These Boston bobos didn't pass up the opp. Chocolate glazed were inhaled. Mmm... doughnuts. *Drool*

I Had My Third Meat Pie of the Trip Today. And It Was Good.

GPS = Righteous!

I'm such a fan of the toilets here. They have two buttons to flush, one for a half-flush and one for a full-flush. It's like they actually care about the environment here.

And what an environment. We went to a kauri forest today. I haven't seen California redwoods yet, but New Zealand's version is pretty awesome. (Pictures will be coming forthwith.) The forests containing the trees are so peaceful, we could chat about computer science and not throw up at the nerditude of it all. Really? Really.

Auckland, New Zealand.

We're in Auckland, New Zealand for a quick 4 day jaunt before returning back to Australia. I get the sense that the people here have a hard time understanding the American accent. Whenever I talk to someone, they take a second to realize that I'm speaking English, and that I am not, in fact, speaking an Asian language.

It's cool. We rented a car -- Annie, the trooper, had to learn how to drive on the right side of the car, maneuvering on the left side of the road, and go through eighty-three rotaries. Look! I lived to tell the tale. We went to see the famous Waitomo Cave glow worms (which are really maggots), angora rabbits, and kiwis, whose habitats have been reversed so that we can observe them during the day (they're nocturnal).

Oh, and I forgot: more on Australia. At the McDonald's in Melbourne, they have the Quarter-Pounder on the menu. WTH? AND Subway still has the 6-inch sub. Have you no shame Australia? No love for the metric system? I like the U.S., but I'm not crazy about white flagging it to American hegemony. That being said, I ate something called the McFeast, which was sort of like a Whopper. But I had it without the McChicken Sauce, which is mayonnaise. And by the way, Burger King is Hungry Jacks, I think.

My thoughts are all disjointed, and my usual wit and sass in writing my blog entries is just not available right now. Part of that is because I still think it is 5am yesterday, and because everywhere we drove today, I thought I was in Hobbiton. For reals.

More Melbourne.

Again, I wish I could post photos as I go along. My travel companion and I have a weird sense of humor when it comes to what we want to document. For example, we went to the Fitzroy Gardens, and although we took pictures of the Faery Tree and other tourist crap, we were especially jazzed about finding the Asian Christian Siriano. Be ready.

So I travelled halfway across the world to eat some plum cake, and the bakery was sold out. Instead I had to eat chocolate kuglhupf. I hate it when that happens.

I've been watching a lot of Olympics in my downtime. On one hand, it's awesome because Australia can watch things in Beijing live without destroying your sleep cycle. On the other hand, it's terrible. Aussies excel at sports that I just don't want to see. I mean, in racewalking, if someone passes you, how does your natural instinct not just scream "RUN PAST HIM FOR PETE'S SAKE. RUN."

And Peter, yup, the 1500m was an event. I was at an Aussie Rules Football League game, and 30 minutes prior to the start, everyone was crowded around the TVs watching Grant Hackett lose. It's funny to watch. I don't think they appreciate being filmed like koalas. It's ok, though. Koalas are cute.

Buzzwords of the Trip.

Pegetables. Pet vegetables. Just say it outloud.

Welcome to economy. When you're dealing with an impossible person who thinks they are entitled, although it is unclear (and unwarranted) as to what.

Curling of the phalanges. This is a holdover from the Montana trip. It's... an inside joke.

What Happened to 13?

I'm in Melbourne, Australia. No really, I am. I've spend the day sleeping off jetlag, and trying to make sense of what happened to August 13th. I can't figure it out. Like, at all.

My first order of business in my hotel was to flush the toilet to see what way the water flows. But I was foiled. My hotel has gone all eco-friendly, and so it has a lo-flow toilet that you can either choose lots of water... for you know, twosies, or a little water... for number one. Either way, the water shoots straight down the pipe. CURSE YOU GLOBAL WARMING! It looks like I have to wait a bit more before I check off "flushing the toilet the Australian way" from my to do list.

Completely Worthless.

I started off okay. I had pictures and videos in my blog. Not just words. Lately, I haven't put quite the same moxie into my blog as I started out with. I'll remedy that...

...later.

There are a couple issues to contend with. First, my super awesome brown camera hates my computer and won't upchuck it's contents onto it. That means that I can't pictorially supplement my written wit and wisdom regarding the two weddings I just attended. At least, not in real time. So I won't. Because both my super awesome camera and my blog deserve better.

Second, I'm leaving the country for 3 weeks starting tomorrow. I told you, it's a big year. Again, my (un)trademark(ed) sass and commentary will have to be put on hiatus while I forget that the real world exists for a bit. Sure, the interweb exists "outside the U.S.," so maybe I'll be able to say what's what. What? What.

Be good. I'm leaving the 6th person who reads this terrible blog each day in charge for that day.

Logical.

I'm in Montana for a friend's wedding. At the reception tonight, the urinal was black. I'm actually surprised that isn't more common. Like how darker cars don't get as dirty as lighter cars. Seems like it would apply here.

Why You Should Invest in Mead Every February and July.

Note: I didn't use my new camera for this. Bar review material is not worthy of my fine brown camera.

Welcome to the 21st Century, or the Answer Is Brown.

Yesterday I bought a digital camera. It's my first real digital camera ever. I had a fake one that came with my old Dell several years back. I call it fake because I didn't like it.

Things were going swimmingly at BestBuy. I had my friends' recommendations for a camera in mind, I had a price point set, and I was running on time with my day's schedule of errands. Quick and easy... until the salesperson offered my choice of either blue or brown. Then my mind exploded, and I literally stood there dumbfounded trying to make the decision. I think the salesperson now thinks I'm either "special" or I believe in unicorns which I do.

Phase Three.

I chose to name this blog what I did mostly because I'm not creative, but also because I started writing this blog to document a big year for me. We're entering part 3 of the year: where I move to Washington, DC, and actually start work as a lawyer (that's if I pass the bar).

This past weekend I went to DC to find an apartment, and I got one within a day. It was actually the first one that I looked at. I had scoped it out online first, and thought I might like it, so I had scheduled an appointment first thing in the morning. I've done an apartment search in New York, where apartments get snapped up faster than Britney inhaling Doritos, so I was well-prepped.

I liked the place, but I just wasn't sure. I got the leasing agent (who couldn't have been more than 15 years old) to hold the place until 3pm. Normally, you're supposed to put down a deposit of several hundred dollars to keep an offer open for 24 hours or so, but I got him to hold it for a few hours for just the application fee of $50. That turned out to be my saving grace. I noticed as I was walking out the door that the person after me asked the leasing agent whether I had taken the apartment.

So then I looked at a few more places. One had a living room the size of a shoe box with the bedroom the size of Florida. Another faced the back alley where the garbage dumpster was. Both were about the same price as my first place. So yeah. I wanted the first place. But I forgot to mention that that morning, I had actually bumped into a friend of mine who happened to live in that apartment. I couldn't ask her about it in front of the agent though, so I decided to call her later... only I didn't have her phone number. From about 2pm on was a mad dash to call everyone I knew who might know her number, and thankfully, I got it. She gave me the real go ahead, and I took the place.

At 3:01pm, as I'm signing the lease, the dude who had the appointment after me walked in to see if I had accepted the lease. Me: "Sorry, well, not really, but good luck." What else do you say?

So now I'm one step closer to taking over the world. There's one tiny problem: I've been Googling my apartment complex (it's easy - in DC every apartment has an ostentatious and unnecessary name like "The Croydon" or "The Gables"), and there are some heinous reviews of the management company. I mean downright nasty. I wasn't planning on naming my apartment because I don't want you, dear reader, to stalk me and kill me and take my super-awesome DVD collection, but if the internet turns out to be more prophetic than personal recommendations, you can count on me ripping the company a new one. You're on notice, The _____.

Non-Non-Live Live Blogging the Bar Exam: Day 2.

No, the "non-non-live" description doesn't mean that I actually live blogged day 2. Please. I was too busy destroying my hand writing 10 essays with ballpoint pen in 6 hours. You know what happens after you write for that long continuously? Your wrist locks, and so you start writing with your whole arm, and then that locks, and you have to move your entire body to chicken-scratch out an "essay."

The "non-non-live" description means that this entry isn't actually even going to pretend to be a live blog. Nope, just wanted to point out one thing.

At the end, while we were waiting to leave, and they were checking all our collected essay booklets, the proctor announced that the Manny Ramirez trade occurred during the afternoon session. Many people seemed just as relieved/anxious about that news as they were finishing the bar exam.

Ah, Boston, we really do have our priorities straight.