Telstra Sucks, And if they had a Complaint Department I Wouldn't Have Had to Write this on my Blog

Warning:  This is a long, angry rant.   If you would prefer to see something more entertaining and less hateful click here.   Everyone else, proceed below.

In Florida we paid about $30/month for home phone service, and it included unlimited calls across the U.S., not to mention the other necessities such as caller ID, call waiting, etc.  So you can imagine my surprise when I called Telstra prior to our Sydney move to organize (that's "organise" in American) phone service and they informed me, in cute Aussie accent and all, that their rates would also start at about $30/month... plus 17.5 cents per local phone call, plus 34 cents per minute for calls to mobile phones-- needless to say, I was shocked.  But the good news was that I would get Call Waiting and Call Number Display ("Caller ID" in the U.S.) included.  Um, yay? And too bad that in three years here, I still can't figure out how the hell to answer Aussie Call Waiting, wtf?

And looking at Telstra's current comparisons of home phone plans, apparently not too much has changed in the last three years, though now you can buy a plan with unlimited local calls (though not to mobile phones).  And mobile calls now cost $2/each for 20 minutes- that's TWO DOLLARS FOR 20 MINUTES.  And by the way, they don't say "cell phone" in Australia-- fyi.

So to avoid Telstra's ridiculous charges over the years, I resorted to using my mobile for almost all phone calls, the purpose of having a home line became mainly to have high-speed internet, etc.  And fortunately things with Telstra were pretty uneventful.  That is until recently...

A few months ago I called Telstra to update the expiration date on my credit card.  The girl I spoke with was even nice enough to suggest bundling my phone, internet, and Foxtel cable to save some money (about $50/month).   Obviously with a deal like that, how could I say no?  And with the technology these days, I assumed that a few minutes later I'd have a new phone/internet/tv combo plan, yay!

An hour and a half later, this crap still wasn't done.  And eventually I found out the girl I was speaking to merely requested the changes because another department actually had to make the changes---huh? Seriously?

Then, three weeks later, I received a bill for over $500!  Foxtel was no where to be found on the bill, and neither was my internet service.  So I call Telstra again, and India (and by "India", I mean the country) answers.  And India transfers me.  And after another hour and a half,  and approximately eight "customer no-service" people later,  I had gotten no where.  Apparently "that's not my department/job/problem" is the motto of Telstra... wow Telstra, that's impressive stuff.

Over a period of two weeks I spent about twenty hours trying to fix my Telstra account.  On three separate occasions, three separate customer service people said they were fixing it and would call me back to confirm it was done.  Did I receive one return phone call???  Um, no.

And when I got all high and mighty and called for the fifthteenth fucking hundreth time, demanding in a really ugly, obnoxious-American way that they solve this while I remained on the phone by calling the department who makes the godforsaken changes-- I was told-- okay, brace yourself-- that that department doesn't have phones!  At the phone company??? A department that doesn't have phones, at the phone company!  Are these people on crack?

Needless to say, I had them forgo all the changes they were supposed to have made.  I tried to make a complaint, apparently everyone and their mother at Telstra is a "supervisor"-- but there's no escalation department.  Try reaching the CEO, and you'll end up in an endless rotation of transfers in which ultimately, the operator will tell you- not only will they not connect you with him, nor his admin-- they won't find anyone else to help you either.

Royally pissed off and in unique form, I called another phone company (the competition)-- and guess what,  if I'm prepared for them to rewire the house and drill five bazillion holes throughout it, I can be lucky enough to be their customer.  Well why would the hell would I purposely walk into that mess when I can stick with the mess I already know and hate?  Do I want more needless convos (that's Aussie slang for "conversations") with India?  Fine Telstra... I give, I give....  I'll stick with you, the biggest, most unorganized company on the planet.  A phone company with a department that all changes must go through, but has no phones.  My head is going to explode just reliving this redonkulousness.

Then, weeks later, in the midst of an afternoon which included being swabbed for swine flu and cleaning up dog vomit, guess who called my mobile phone.... why of course, it was Telstra-- well hip hip fucking hooray.  And this lovely girl inquired about who my mobile service was with, and did I know I could switch my mobile to Telstra and get a fantastic bundle package deal?

And as I hacked violent coughs in her ear and explained I was sick, she continued on, delighting me with her fantastic sales skills and impressive offer.  And I went on to briefly tell her how horrible my experience has been with Telstra and how I cannot believe a company could operate with such disregard for customer satisfaction.

But she had good news!  There's a new CEO, and everything at Telstra is better.  They have revamped their customer service and she was calling only to help me get a better deal!

And as I wheezed into the phone, I managed to ask her what changes they had made?  Well here's the short answer-- NONE, no freaking changes!  And there's still no escalation department, if you have a complaint get your pen out, because you'll have to mail it to them.  And there's even still a department which all changes go through, and they still don't have phones... jeez, I'd like to work in that department, no way to call in sick, no calls from the boss... woo hoo.

So guess what Telstra-- just saying you've got "new" customer service doesn't mean you've made any improvements, you actually have to do something to fix things.  Let me give you some suggestions--

• Build the technology to support all the things you sell; so when people want to order these things, or change these things, the first person your customer speaks to can actually make the changes.
• Empower your employees.  Empower your employees to make changes without insane processes that make simple things become complex.  And empower your employees to rectify bad situations with compensation such as credits on their bills, etc.   If you need help with this ask American Express, every employee at American Express knows how to help customers so they go away happy.
• Get rid of half of what you offer.  Why do you have three bazillion plans?

And when you implement these I'll be happy to take this post down, wad it up in a ball, and toss it to the moon.  In the meantime however, Telstra -- you can suck it... and by "it" I mean big monkey balls.

American or Continental Style Eating?

In the Australia, and most of the civilized world, people eat "continental style" which means fork in one hand, knife in the other, and the fork goes into your mouth prongs facing down with meat on them, and other stuff pushed onto the back of the fork. This is the way the judges on Masterchef and/or Top Chef eat.

Alternatively, most Americans eat "American style", cutting food, lying their knife down, moving their fork to the other hand, and finally taking a bite with the fork-- prongs facing up.

Eating American Style at a table full of Australians is uncomfortable, awkward, and clumsy looking. The Aussies easily cut and eat their food without all the stopping, starting, and cutlery swapping.

And sometimes at a restaurant I give it a try, I really do-- but it's not pretty, I'm like a fumbling idiot. Putting a fork into your mouth upside-down is hard, the angling is off, and I know I look like a complete freak. Making matters worse, my husband, the great assimilator, has successfully switched styles. Now I'm alone at the table being all American-awkward and weird. What the hell is my problem?

These two handy videos below demonstrate how to eat both ways. Incidentally, Cute Little Manners Lady, the star of both videos, is based out of my hometown area-- maybe she does private lessons?

This is Continental Style of eating used in most of the world:



This is the American Style of eating used in the U.S. and possibly responsible for feelings of dining-isolation amongst American expats worldwide:



I am left with a few quesions:

Would it be easy for an Aussie to eat American Style?

Do other Americans switch to Continental Style with no problem?

Am I the only expat feeling like a jackass at the dinner table?

Who thinks they're agile and graceful enough to switch their eating style?

I double-dog-dare you to eat the way you're not accustomed to. Videos of your attempts are welcome and can be emailed to flgirlinsydney@gmail.com.

If you send me a video, I will post it and make you an international superstar.

A Love Letter

Dear You,

Sorry I haven't written in a while, I've needed some time to organize my thoughts, actually... I still do. I've got so many stories flying around in my head that I can't focus on one of them long enough to form a complete sentence.

This trip comforted me. Possibly due to the lengthy duration of our trip or the one-on-one time I spent with my peeps-- for whatever reason, I am back, and I am happy.

I return to Australia now knowing that I can have a life in Sydney, and still maintain a life in the U.S. You might think I'm kidding myself, and that's okay, keep it to yourself.

Love, Me

Here are some photos from our trip:


My Norman Rockwell moment. Carl's Barber Shop Davie, Florida


Hollywood Beach, FL (Land O' Tanorexic Senior Citizens)


Roadtrip to Orlando.


Superheroes know no country.


Cooking with Grandma. Me likey cookies.


In fourteen years I have never seen my father-in-law's face light up as it did when he played with our new Lucky the Wonder Pup. He has since gone out and bought one for himself.


Twins?


The CarMax lady who gave us da money for da car. She was a real peach.



Leaving Florida in style, yeah dawg.

Sydney Girl In Florida?

My three and five year old boys spent ten, yes ten hours, on the flight from Sydney to Los Angeles watching the "flight plan" on their personal Qantas televisions; my plan was that they were supposed to be sleeping. The good news is that they chatted in their giggly little-boy voices for hours and were having grand old time, if only I could have slept through it-- everything would have been perfect.

Upon arrival in Miami, we dragged our luggage through the chaotic airport and passed a middle-aged Hispanic airport employee rolling a large cart through the crowds loudly shouting "Es-cuse me! Watch out. Es-cuse me!". I instinctively responded with a "Welcome to Miami! It's great to be home!" The friends and family standing at the exit awaiting their arrivals cheered at my enthusiasm.

And, well, I was told being back would be weird-- and it is. I know it sounds dramatic, but no one knows what I've been through, and it doesn't feel like anyone can fully understand.

I left Florida a year and a half ago in a whirlwind of excitement, nervousness, fear, and optimism. Now being home feels like I'm in a time warp; everything is so much the same, but I've changed in so many ways.

I felt the need to take my sister with me to get coffee, because I was driving on the "other" side of the road and wanted to be safe. The rooms and televisions in my house look so big. I feel like I'm looking at everyone and everything differently, this year has profoundly changed me. Here I am, now-- home, questioning everything I thought I knew.

Hanging out with GlassBreaker last week finally helped me put this experience into words. This year has been filled with contradiction. Living in the most beautiful and lively city I've ever been in, whilst being horribly isolated and usually feeling very out of place. It's a peculiar situation; so much to gain from the experience, but at what cost?

And obviously, life goes on here without me. For Thanksgiving my mom made an apple pie, and my sister made some nasty looking crustless pumpkin pie thing. I don't even like pie. Would it be wrong for me to shake them while screaming, "I've been away for 18 months and neither of you could make a Thanksgiving dessert that I actually like??". Seriously?

Okay, okay, I still ate the delicious gluten-free chocolate cake that Dr. Jill (my sister) made today but it was a day late and a dollar short baby (huh, I don't even know what I'm saying-- I'm still delirious from the 16 hour time change). And I do know that they actually were beyond excited for us to be here-- but seriously-- Mom, Dr. Jill-- you gots to hook a sista up.

Does Anybody Out There Even Care?

Right now, today, would be an incredible time to be in the United States.

I am not there. It's incredibly surreal to watch it on CNN, and to not be there.

On television, I can see the hope in people's eyes. I can feel the energy, even the news anchors seem to be beaming. I also have butterflies, I'm gushing. I have a spring in my step, but that might be from the MBT shoes I've hired for the week (that's Australian for rented, and that's another story).

So four hours after the election was over, at orientation for Kindie (that's Australian for Kindergarten), we spoke with people who didn't even know Obama had won; their indifference was inadvertently raining on my private Election Day Parade.

Well... ok, I'm actually still smiling, so apparently it didn't really bother me that much. I even giggle a little as I write this because I'm so damn happy, it doesn't even matter if any one here cares!

In closing I'd like to add that I'm almost positive it was Tina Fey at the concession speech and not actually Sarah Palin. And if that wasn't enough I'm also wondering if Ralph Nader is suffering from dementia? Just wondering.

Halloween Fun In Australia, Not So Much

On the radio this morning there was America bashing. Apparently, Halloween is just another way the U.S. is quietly infiltrating Australian culture and taking over, at least that's what some think.

Apparently Halloween is very controversial in Australia, this is my second year experiencing the weird vibe it has here.




Obviously was I went out looking for a video to convey a point, that being said- I truly believe that these are common Australian perspectives on Americans-- even if they don't say it to your face... okay, actually I mean my face.

Today I'm going to pull my Halloween decorations out and get my American freak on, the haters can go to hell.

He's Ba-ack

I was chillin' with my little boys on the couch, watching the most bizarre childrens show in the universe, when my doorbell rang. The townhouse we rent has a doorbell that you answer by picking up a videophone; you see who's there, then you can buzz them in. I wasn't expecting anyone, but ocassionally Australia Post comes in the late afternoon, whatever.

Me: "Hello?"

Dude: "Yeah, I'm the guy who rang your doorbell last year. I left something in the garage attic and I need to come in and get it."

Holy shit! This is the prior occupant of our house, who tried to break in a year ago to get the "stuff" he left in here.

Me: "Sorry, I can't help you".

Dude: "I need to come in now."

Me: "I'm calling the police, I'd recommend you leave now."

Last year the police officer gave us a business card to call should Jeremy show up here again. Being that the card was in a drawer somewhere I called 000 (that's Australian for 911).

An hour and a half later they showed up, an hour and a half... what the hell? I guess it's a good thing Jeremy didn't try coming in a door or window like last time.

The officer was a condescending jackass.

Our unproductive conversation included exchanges such as:

Him: Do you know this guy?
Me: Yes, he did this exact same thing a year ago last month.
Him: I'm not talking about a year ago, I'm talking about today.
Me: But, you asked if I knew him.

His brilliant advice to me was: use an alarm, keep your doors locked, never let a stranger in. Duh, thanks.

I'm still shaking with post-traumatic situation adrenaline.
I think it's time for tequila or something stronger.
I'm out.

Get Over It Already

My mom is gone, she's on a plane heading back to the U.S.

We took a ferry from our house to Circular Quay (where the Sydney Opera House is), then a train straight into the International Airport Terminal. Having never lived in an area with real public transportation, every time I successfully arrive at my destination via ferry, train, or bus, I feel like I've accomplished something extraordinary. Yes, I know that's pathetic.

Returning home on the ferry, I sat on the deck outside. I was in the zone reflecting back on the last year; a year I spent/wasted feeling out of place, making comparisons to home, and basically acting bitchy and bitter.

It's stupid and ridiculous, I am living in Sydney, Australia-- one of the most the beautiful places in the world, where kangaroos and koala bears lie on the beach, holding hands and eating meat pies. It's been over a year since we landed here, and I'm painfully aware that it's time to put on my big girl pants and join the barbie (that's Australian for BBQ, duh).

I am officially going snap out of this and seize the day. Today is the first day of the rest of my life--- I couldn't help that coming out of my fingers.

Note to mom:
Please don't wait that long again to get your sweet ass back here.
In the meantime, here's some memories for the road:


My four year old rocking out during the 2008 City to Surf Race in Sydney. 70,000 people ran (or walked) from downtown Sydney to Bondi Beach.




My mom on the ferry en route to the airport, abandoning us here.

Australian Dream Creams

My homegirl, the fiery red-head, introduced me to Blue Lizard Australian Sunscreen. She said it was da bomb, and she was so right.

There's no chemicals or fragrances, in this stuff, yet somehow it makes water bead on your skin, like Rain-X for people. When exposed to UVA/UVB rays, the bottle changes colors and screams obscenities at you. And most importantly, it's the first sunscreen I've used which doesn't irritate my already temperamental and blotchy rosacea face.

We use the Blue Lizard Australian Suncream Baby version on our entire family, and anyone else who happens to come over and need some protection. I am constantly compelled to force it upon everyone I know. And being that it's from Australia, I was looking forward to getting all the Blue Lizard I could handle when we moved here.

Imagine the shock and disappointment when I found out that no one in Australia has even heard of Blue Lizard Australian Suncream. Apparently, Blue Lizard is from freaking Tennessee, as in the, "The Stage is Set for You" state. Huh? Should someone be offended that they didn't name it "Blue Lizard Tennessee Suncream"?

On a separate note, which actually is just more of the same-- I have arthritis in my 36-year old foot, which eventually I will need to have taken under the knife. In the meantime, my arsenal of pain relief includes Salonpas (they're from Costco, so you know they have to be good), and a pain relief cream called Australian Dream Arthritis Cream, which of course, is made in Kentucky.

Looks like Australians should be proud that companies want their products to seem Australian. I bet my cousin would like these products, she's American, but wants to be Australian-- we balance each other.

Can I See Your ID?

Three years after moving to Dallas, my Florida license expired and I finally gots me a Texas drivers license. Unfortunately, a) when at long last I got it, I was nine months pregnant, and my face resembled a blowfish, and b) about a month later, I noticed the gender field on my license said "M", as in "male". Wow, sucks for me.

Eventually, I came to terms with having an ID in which I looked like Chris Farley, and due to sloppy data entry, appear to be a cross-dresser.

Today, I noticed that my drivers license, in all of its awesomeness, was missing from my wallet. I wasn't surprised, as I had recently removed lots of useless crap, and was left with stretched out card slots. Needless to say, things were a little loosey-goosey in there.

I have mixed feelings about losing my Texas drivers license. My plan was to not get an Australian license, because that's how I roll-- literally. I like to drive illegally in new places until I am busted or facing dire straits.

Looking on the bright side, this is an opportunity to embrace the newer and blonder me in an official piece of Australian documentation. And the bonus is, I will be driving legally and should I ever encounter the Deranged Rover again I will be more prepared.

It sucks that I take photographs of every useless crap day, and never snapped one of my license from hell.

Looking Through the Rubbish

Growing up I had this set of stainless steel Disney flatware, which was always a sentimental little slice of my unusual childhood. When my kids were ready to move beyond shoving the food in their mouths with fingers, I asked my mom to send them to me.



A few months down the track (that's Australian for "down the road") one of the pieces was mutilated by my garbage disposal, and I was pretty devastated. But being the internet whore that I am, I went on eBay and found replacements.

The point of all this reminiscing is that, in my nanny-smoking-cigarettes-in-the-house story, (posted a few days ago) I forgot to mention the straw that broke the Camel Lights back...

When I went rubbish bag diving to find the cigarette butts she idiotically left in her room, I mean come on-- leaving them in your room??? anyway, guess what I found -- my freaking Donald Duck spoon. Who knows if I could have gotten past the smoking bit, but tossing my Donald spoon out?

If that spoon went missing, I probably would have spent months searching every corner of this place looking for it, and I would not be happy

Wow, the drama.


Captain Chaos.


Captain Calmness.

Welcome to Australia

About a year ago we were in the midst of our first few chaotic weeks in Australia.

My mom and Miss Kim (our preschool teacher from Florida, also known as "MK") had come to Australia with us to help me get settled.

One afternoon when I was out of the house at the Chemist (that's Australian for drugstore) MK called my mobile in a panic. Some whacko had rung the doorbell and through the intercom said he "left something in the house and needed to come in". Of course, she didn't let him in, duh.

The guy then must have jumped over the big wall around our townhouses and showed up at the kitchen window. He tried to lift it up and get in! MK ran to the back door, which was wide open and scrambled to lock it. Not exactly an easy task considering in Australia you turn the key the opposite direction you would in U.S.-- very confusing, especially in an emergency.

Did I mention that my kids (2 & 3 years old at the time) were upstairs napping during this entire attempted home invasion?

Come to find out, the guy who tried to get in the house was Jeremy-- yes, the police were on a first name basis with him. He is the former owner of the house's son. Apparently, Jeremy was/is addicted to heroin (or something similar) and when his rich daddy was sent to "the home", and all of his assets were taken over by the "Australian Protective Commission", Jeremy rented out the other bedrooms to his not-so-delightful friends. Personally, I think they may have had a meth lab in the kitchen-- not sure.

And then the neighbors decide to tell us how they thought he may come back and try to get in the house again. Great, thanks for telling me NOW jackasses. Whatever, they probably thought it would be funny for the stupid Americans to have a little scare.

For the next week we lived in fear. MK had been completely traumatized, and we ordered a new alarm system.

I'm practically sweating from the stress of reliving this story-- or maybe it's the jalapenos on the Mexican pizza? Or possibly it's the all-you-can-eat-pharmaceutical-buffet I've been hitting all day today to tame my cold.

I think I'll leave you now with a Melrose Place moment which conveys the feelings of angst and drama I experienced that first month here. Actually this clip is completely inappropriate and has nothing to do with anything, but I'm just feelin' it. Anyone remember this?


Well my story can't really compete with that stuff, but then again-- what can?

Bat Invasion

I seriously am not sure what I am going to do about the insanely loud bats that have taken over-- yes bats, as in blood sucking, freaky ass, nocturnal nuisances, and the particular breed around these parts has about a 6 foot wingspan-- no, I am fer real!

First place we encountered the bats was in the Royal Botanic Gardens-- apparently they hang there (literally) during the day, while tourist gawk and take pictures.


Yes, I was one of those gawkers.

Over the summer (that means December & January here) we went to the Open Air Cinema at Royal Botanic Gardens several times. The Open Air Cinema was amazing, sitting outside on chairs watching a movie, with the Opera House and Sydney Harbor Bridge in the background next to the screen. While watching the movie enormous bats started practically attacking the screen, it was crazy. We considered this our first real encounter with Australian wildlife, but little did we know our hood was about to be invaded.

About a month after the Open Air Cinema fright night, we noticed the massive bats started flying around our neighborhood every night as the sun was just about to go down.


I know it's hard to tell-- but those are big ass bats, and lots of um. By the way, I took this standing in my backyard.

Within the week we were scared to leave our house at night because there were probably about 100 bats in the enormous tree in our front courtyardy area-- which, by the way, resulted in the nastiest orange bat poop covered driveway you've never imagined... seriously, this is nasty stuff-- especially to walk in-- very slippery. Okay, I'll stop.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks later the flock moved to a big fig tree in our backyard (apparently these are not eating figs-- unless of course, you're a bat). So now every evening when they start circling the neighborhood (final destination-- our house), we must lock ourselves inside and hope they'll be gone in the morning-- which somehow it seems they are.

But here I am, it's midnight, can't sleep because they're all outside my bedroom window squeaking up a storm. I'm tempted to record the sound and see if we play it backwards there will be some demonic message telling us to move off their turf or suffer the consequences.

I'm so scared, goodnight.

What Are You, Colorblind???

It's always seemed odd that one of my kids constantly confuses his colours (that's Australian for colors). My husband has always said that he has an issue differentiating some colors, so I figured we should check this out.

So a couple of months ago I pulled up an online colorblind test to see if there may be a problem.


He saw the number-- uh, do you?

A couple weeks later we went to the general practitioner for an eczema situation-- and she whipped out the colorblind tests and advised that she likes to do these with four year olds. Well the poor guy couldn't see anything... and I was like- doh?? He saw them on the internet??

So she gave us the highly coveted specialist referral- cause you can't do anything in Australia without a referral-- oh right, at least everyone here has health care.

Anyway, so as with the last specialist we had to see, it took two months to get an appointment-- and yesterday was finally the lucky day. While I was interested to know if they thought he had a problem, I wasn't really sure what the point was. There's nothing to actually do about it should he have an issue except advise his teacher, then at least she can stop putting him in the corner for coloring grass red in class. They don't do that at your preschool?

Moving on, I thought the appointment was for 10am-- and we got there at 9;40am. Upon check in I was advised (in a wow, you're really an idiot kind of way) that our appointment was for 10:30am, so what I am doing there so early? Whatever, bitchy receptionist-- are you the same rude, obnoxious woman I spoke to when I made the appointment? What's wrong... does the doctor make you get her coffee and pick up her dry cleaning?

Anyway, she must have had a fleeting moment of, wait-- I should act nice. She let me know that we could take a seat and maybe be seen earlier (instead of leaving due to my premature arrival, as she had first recommended).

So we sat and waited... and I realized that I had not seen this many people over the age of 70 since leaving Florida. I had no idea that ophthalmologists drew such an elderly crowd-- or maybe it was just my lucky day.

There were a few toys in the waiting room and a little ride on BMW-- not sure what that was all about... trying to please the toddlers who have expensive taste? And while unsuccessfully trying to read my magazine, I keyed in on the routine they had going here. This pregnant sour looking woman would come out of an office, call a patient, take them in her office. When they emerged from her office, they were told to sit in the waiting room again. Finally, nicely dressed, but miserable looking-- presumably ophthalmologist woman, would come get the patient and bring them into office number two. When she was finished with them, it was off to bitchy, yet sporadically compassionate, receptionist lady to pay your bill.

Our turn had arrived. The visit to office numero uno was pretty unpleasant. The pregnant sour nurse woman did her best to make me feel like I was a total jackass for bringing a four year old in for a colorblind test. She advised that a) he's too young and may not understand what she asks him to do, and b) even if he has a problem, there's nothing you can do about it. Excellent way to create patient rapport. She surely should be fired.

Ok, she somehow determined that he probably had a problem with colors. And after our second round in the waiting room, it was our turn to see the miserable looking doctor-- hey, attitude in the workplace all starts at the top, right?

We get into her office, in which the walls are completely covered in children's artwork-- or possibly artwork from the senior center-- not sure, but either way it somehow added a touch of warmth to the place. Anyway- counterpoint to her sour nurse, she seemed to think this was a very important and necessary appointment. She took out two bottles and asked him what colors the caps were-- he answered correctly (red and green) and she stated her diagnosis, "Seems like there's no problem".

She then did all the other eye doctor type stuff-- and just as my husband had predicted the night before (and told me not to let them do), she was wanted to dilate his eyes. He's four... wtf?
I'm not sure if this is really necessary, but I just don't think so. She gave me the you're-making-a-big mistake-you-dumbass-American look... and I just gave her my best you-and-I-both-know-that's-unnecessary-and-you're-a-bitch look. You may be able to make your other patient's mommies feel like they're idiots for not getting the wacky drops, but I can feel like an idiot without any help from you.

Whatever... time to check out with bitchy receptionist, she'll be right with us-- she's got to get the doctor some coffee.


Notice Mr. Clever cannot look up from the crackberry.

DeRanged Rover

I'm driving home from preschool on the highway and in front of me is this type of utility vehicle that seems pretty common in Australia, it's kind of like a pickup truck, except the walls around the truck bed are only about 6 inches high. The front of the thing looked like a Range Rover.



This is the same type of vehicle from the back.

In the back of the truck is a very big, white dog with a muzzle on. We are on a highway... and there are practically no walls on the back of the truck! There are various pieces of small equipment in the back of the truck with the dog-- it looks like any/all of it could go flying out at any time. Enough said.

No, enough is not said, because the logo on the truck- where I am assuming it had said "Range Rover", had been altered (in a very professional way, so it looked original) to DERANGED ROVER.

And all I am thinking is, the only way anyone would believe this insanity is if I took a photo, but at 80 km/hour that may not be a good idea. And if there was going to be gun carrying Australian, this could quite possibly be him... and he may not like being photographed.

I finagled the camera out of my purse anyway, just in case should be a slow down in traffic-- this really needed to be documented for all to see. Seriously, my camera battery was dead, ugh.

I exit the highway. I usually look forward to the wait at this particular traffic light each afternoon because there's an apartment building where all the Sulpher-Crested Cockatoos come to sit on one guy's balcony and he feeds them. It's like being at some kind of freakish urban bird show.


Photo: The view from my drivers seat-- you can see the Cockatoo on the balcony in the background.


Photo: The man on his balcony with a couple of the wild Cockatoos.


A close up of the extremely loud-mouthed Sulpher-Crested Cockatoos, this bunch was on the antenna above my house.

Anyway, as I slow down to my regular bird show spot, out of no where--SMASH!

Yep, someone rear-ended me. Thankfully, everyone was fine. My car didn't even budge-- it's like a tank. I look in the rear view mirror. Seriously dude... it was the DERANGED ROVER, muzzled dog guy!

Is that insane???

Do you think it would be rude to ask him to pose with his car and dog-- so I can take a picture with my cell phone (since the other camera was dead)?

So if this all wasn't bizarre enough, the guy was like super nice. It was the most pleasant post-car accident experience I could have imagined. He explained that he had glanced down to answer his cell phone (well that wasn't very smart was it?) and oops. But he was all,.. "Take my drivers license info, here's all my contact info...blah, blah, blah". And I was thinking--- should I call the police? I can't believe I never got my Australian drivers license, what if they arrest me? I figured I'll just take his info and get the hell out of there before his dog breaks free of the muzzle and eats me and my children.

And for those of you who know my husband-- he is so funny. Since the 2-seater car he bought isn't working out for us (hmmm, why wouldn't that be a perfect car for a family with 2 small children, duh?), we had been looking to buy a more family friendly vehicle. When I called him at the office to let him know about the little incident, he basically ran out of the office to go to the Honda dealership for that new Odyssey we had been talking about-- we hadn't even test driven it, but he was ready to make a purchase.

Did I mention that everything in Australia closes by 5:30pm?

About an hour later he called me to see if we had any alcohol in the house, because he would be needing a stiff drink upon arrival. He had tried to go to the dealership, accidentally drove by it, which led him onto a highway with no exits for 20 minutes.

And Those Obnoxious Americans...

It's been a while since I've ranted about the anti-American sentiment in Australia, and if you ask some people, they may not feel it at all. But live here for a while, and I don't think you can deny it exists.

Last week my cousin asked me if I had met any Americans in Sydney through my blog, and I said no... then thought to myself, "how nice would that be?". The next day, through my blog, I hooked up with a girl who has recently moved here from Utah-- with two toddlers! Law of attraction at work again-- it's like magic.

Today I read new friend's blog, it made my feelings and perceptions about being here feel valid, because often, I'm not sure they are.

My Situation:
My husband spends his days in an office, working with people who have to be nice to him. He has been incredibly supportive to me, and done everything humanly possible to try and make me happier here, but he's just not really feelin' my pain. He likes it here, he'd probably chuck everything left in the U.S. and turn all Australian on me. He already calls everyone "mate".

But I'm having a very different experience here. Sitting in a restaurant, hearing the people next to me say terrible things about Americans. Or while at the register in a nice department store (thanks David Jones for the great shopping experience) having the clerk tell me (and my American friend) how obnoxious Americans are and how ridiculous everything from the U.S. is. Um, I guess our ploy of telling her we were from Canada backfired... we got it even worse.

Bottom line is, it's a two-fold balancing act- I want to try and enjoy the time we will be in Sydney, vs. wanting to feel accepted by a country that seemingly does not want you (nor your fast food and reality television shows) here. And secondly, trying to stay positive when talking to friends and family, while often feeling isolated and ready to pack it in.

Taken from my friend's blog--
How the international community thinks Americans view the world:



Bitch session over.

Goldfish & Peanut Butter Cups

My four year old and I went to Norton St. Grocer in Bondi Junction mall today. Now if you are an American in Australia, you will probably be happy for me. And if you are an American in America, you will probably be thinking this is pretty pitiful. Hellman's Mayonaise, Goldfish Crackers, and K.C. Masterpiece BBQ Sauce... kind of sad that this would cause such excitement.


My purchases at Norton St. Grocer today-- big score.

Other fun at our house today:


Birthday cake made with homemade cinnamon scented play dough

Backhanded Compliments or Real Appreciation of the U.S.?

The following is an article in which, the apparently wide spread sentiment by Australians that it's difficult to admit you like America and "obnoxious Americans", meets the reality of, the U.S has amazing places to see and nice, friendly people.

I found the comment section after the article interesting too, especially the posts regarding how shocking it is when Australians find out we don't all support George Bush.

http://blogs.smh.com.au/travel/archives/2008/04/the_most_underrated_country_in.html

I swear, I have never been so freaking patriotic, but I guess that's what happens when you move to a place where you feel your homeland is constantly bashed. It's crazy.

Thanks for sharing this article Couzzie Dina.

Why not just get a steak?

I'm still wondering about, and have not yet tasted, the wide variety of meat flavored chips (known to Australians as "crisps". Not sure why you would want these flavors, they don't exactly sound delicious to me- but don't knock it till you try it, right?

But on the other hand, though I am not a vegetarian-- I have always had vegetarian aspirations, and flirted off and on through the years with meat abandonment-- though it's obviously never stuck. But why, why, why-- oh why, do you want chips that taste like chicken?









Or Honey Baked Ham or Burgers???

Spider, Spiders Everywhere

These are my newest Australian friends- they live in my backyard. I constantly walk into their tangled webs and fear for my life that one of them will be the most poisonous spider in the world and get stuck in my hair.
Ugh, I am hoping as the weather gets cooler they will disappear. I don't remember having this prospering spider population last winter when we first arrived in Sydney.