...shouldn't throw stones. No, this isn't a lecture about not criticizing others for faults that we may have ourselves. No, this is an entry about not living in glass houses. I personally don't know anyone who lives in a glass house but I'm staying with a girl who has a glass bathroom door. Yes, a glass bathroom door. Frankly, I've never heard of such a thing or seen such a thing prior to arriving in Sydney on Monday. So what's the big deal? What's the big deal?! It's a huge deal! As anyone can attest who knows my siblings and I, we have what you might call "sensitive stomachs." I have vivid memories of Zev pill popping Tums as an adolescent. It seems that not a meal, snack or breath mint wouldn't be chased with a multi-colored Tums. He seems to have slightly outgrown this addiction whereas Hannah and I are still dependent on over the counter drugs to survive in this world. Our drug of choice is different though--we single handedly keep Immodium AD in business.
So, what's my point? Well, if keeping my stomach in line wasn't a hard enough job already it is always exacerbated by flying. Whether it's the air pressure or the airline food, I don't know. But the days after flights are usually followed by cramps and extra "reading time." Well, after flying for thirty hours, old reliable was up to his old tricks again. One small problem, Emma's bathroom door is glass. Oh wait, two small problems: Emma's bathroom is in her bedroom, feet from her bed. Oh wait, three small problems: Emma's best friend, an equally cute blonde Aussie, is staying here this week. So do the math: 2 cute girls sleeping feet from a glass bathroom door = nights of pain.
I emailed a few friends at 4:30AM to discuss the situation. Various solutions included:
1. Go out the window. (I would have considered this but she lives on the ground floor on a busy walking street)
2. Hang up a sheet over the door and just quote the Wizard of Oz, "Don't mind the man behind the curtain." This genius one comes from the brilliant mind of Adam Lippman.
3. Run to a hotel lobby. This was suggested by my buddy Bert up in Seattle (yes, I have a friend named Bert) but unfortunately I didn't have keys to get back in the apartment.
Thankfully Augusts have a high pain tolerance. Some of us don't take pain medication the day after triple bypass heart surgery and some of us grin and bear stomach cramps during the night. Which is tougher, you be the judge. Anyway, long "Too Much Information" story short: I jogged this morning at 7AM to the Sydney Oprah House and used their facilities. Wonderful acoustics at that place.
For the first time since I've been here it was sunny out...although as I type this it is downpouring again. I took advantage of the good weather and went on a ferry ride in the harbour to Taronga Zoo where I was told I could pet and rub noses with koalas. I was told wrong. They have koalas at the zoo but there are large signs, "no petting." You could pay $20 (in addition to the $40 ferry ride/zoo combined fee) to get one picture and thirty seconds next to a sedated koala. I decided to pass. This is going to break the heart of Taylor, one of my best friends and a certified koalaphile.
As many of you know, a few months ago I was a bridesmaid in Taylor's amazing Santa Barbara wedding. Well, for her honeymoon she and Andrew came to Sydney. Upon their return Taylor emailed me all her pictures. To say every other one was of a Koala would be an understatement. All she and Andrew did on their trip was eat, take pictures with koalas, sail the harbour, take more pictures with koalas, visit the opera house, take more pictures with koalas, etc. Since telling Tay I was coming to Australia she has repeatedly told me, "you have to see the koalas." Yesterday she proceeded to email me links of places to go and what time of day I should go ("Go at 4, that's when they are the most playful.") Some would say this borders on obsession. I would agree with them. But it's even worse--Taylor sent me the above picture of an underage koala kissing a girl yesterday and told me, "the younger koalas are the best." So friends, I'm asking you, please have an intervention with Taylor before it's too late.
Once again I'm original pictureless. I've got some great pictures to post but still can't find a wireless signal. Hopefully in the next couple days I'll hunt one down.
Benjamin
So, what's my point? Well, if keeping my stomach in line wasn't a hard enough job already it is always exacerbated by flying. Whether it's the air pressure or the airline food, I don't know. But the days after flights are usually followed by cramps and extra "reading time." Well, after flying for thirty hours, old reliable was up to his old tricks again. One small problem, Emma's bathroom door is glass. Oh wait, two small problems: Emma's bathroom is in her bedroom, feet from her bed. Oh wait, three small problems: Emma's best friend, an equally cute blonde Aussie, is staying here this week. So do the math: 2 cute girls sleeping feet from a glass bathroom door = nights of pain.
I emailed a few friends at 4:30AM to discuss the situation. Various solutions included:
1. Go out the window. (I would have considered this but she lives on the ground floor on a busy walking street)
2. Hang up a sheet over the door and just quote the Wizard of Oz, "Don't mind the man behind the curtain." This genius one comes from the brilliant mind of Adam Lippman.
3. Run to a hotel lobby. This was suggested by my buddy Bert up in Seattle (yes, I have a friend named Bert) but unfortunately I didn't have keys to get back in the apartment.
Thankfully Augusts have a high pain tolerance. Some of us don't take pain medication the day after triple bypass heart surgery and some of us grin and bear stomach cramps during the night. Which is tougher, you be the judge. Anyway, long "Too Much Information" story short: I jogged this morning at 7AM to the Sydney Oprah House and used their facilities. Wonderful acoustics at that place.
For the first time since I've been here it was sunny out...although as I type this it is downpouring again. I took advantage of the good weather and went on a ferry ride in the harbour to Taronga Zoo where I was told I could pet and rub noses with koalas. I was told wrong. They have koalas at the zoo but there are large signs, "no petting." You could pay $20 (in addition to the $40 ferry ride/zoo combined fee) to get one picture and thirty seconds next to a sedated koala. I decided to pass. This is going to break the heart of Taylor, one of my best friends and a certified koalaphile.
As many of you know, a few months ago I was a bridesmaid in Taylor's amazing Santa Barbara wedding. Well, for her honeymoon she and Andrew came to Sydney. Upon their return Taylor emailed me all her pictures. To say every other one was of a Koala would be an understatement. All she and Andrew did on their trip was eat, take pictures with koalas, sail the harbour, take more pictures with koalas, visit the opera house, take more pictures with koalas, etc. Since telling Tay I was coming to Australia she has repeatedly told me, "you have to see the koalas." Yesterday she proceeded to email me links of places to go and what time of day I should go ("Go at 4, that's when they are the most playful.") Some would say this borders on obsession. I would agree with them. But it's even worse--Taylor sent me the above picture of an underage koala kissing a girl yesterday and told me, "the younger koalas are the best." So friends, I'm asking you, please have an intervention with Taylor before it's too late.
Once again I'm original pictureless. I've got some great pictures to post but still can't find a wireless signal. Hopefully in the next couple days I'll hunt one down.
Benjamin
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