Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Aussie Speak

Just finished an intensive two month course in Australian.  I love language and the variations of word meanings, pronunciations along with accents.  Here’s what I retained from my study.
I woke up this mahning feeling a little toey in the covas and thought about wanking cos I was alone, but I put on my nickas instead and opened the cootins.  Went to the loo and schowad in wahm whadah.  My clothes weh in the wahdrobe and I put some on.  I walked on the foot path so my shoes didn’t get wet in the mohning dju.  The buhds were singing and the skweerels weh prahncing around.  I went to the stoah and got a trolley to load everything I wanted to buy at the mahket.  My list had tomahtoes, cheese from Frahns, rock melon, chook and bum nuts.  I bought a slab of tinnies too.  Been dry as a dead dingo’s donga lately.  When I went to load the boot, I forghat to buy the googs and lollies. Figured I could just skull the tinnies latah, but didn’t want to be a chucky.  Sawr a cute baby in a nappy with a dummy in ha mouth.  Shoowah is a lot to see he-a on Uhth.  I went to get some medicine at the chemist’s and then to the pageant wheha I bought some fairy floss.  The wind kicked up and I put on my jumpha.  Had a picnic in the pahk and sat on my rug because I didn’t want ahnts in my bits.  My mobile battry died.  Bloody hell!  I wrapped my leftovers in aloo minium foil to eat lateh.  All the bee-ah made me have to have a slash and I went behind the shed.  I was close to being off my face.  It was dahk out, so I got out my torch as I drank a spidah on the deck.  Had my own pahdee pretending I was beyond the black stump.  Sawr the yahd needed trimming, so I decided I’d pull out the whippa snippa in the mahning.  The mozzies were thick last night.  Bloody oath.  Good on ya, bloke.  Oi!  I reckon I will be called out as a dibba dobba, septic tank dag now.        

Monday, September 10, 2012

Random Stitches

Not only do clothing marketers get creative with their lack of size uniformity, they also pull the wool over our eyes with insane product names.  Pants is what my dog does after a good run.  How can one thing be plural anyway?  Generally women put on a wedding, evening, summer or night gown and they are dressed.  When I throw on my blue jean, singular intended, am I pantsed?  That word is not even in the dictionary and it happened to me once at Waikiki and it was the opposite of being clothed.  But, I digress.  Guys are supposed to have pants, shoes and shirts that are dress.  What does that have to do with the traditional cover garment of the fairer sex?  Far as I’m concerned, shoes and socks are feet prisons.  Wearing both is like double lock down.  When I have to wear them, I tie my shoes.  I knot my tie and they should just be called nooses.  Shirts have collars, so we are back to the canine age.  When was the last time you saw an athletic competition with the participants wearing sports coats?  And when did they drop “clown” from “suit”?  I get tube top and t-shirt, but I have no idea where the term tank top came from.  Neck lace makes sense, why isn’t it wrist lace?  They got the wrist part right with the timepiece many wear, but I’ve never heard of anybody having a grandfather watch.  It all seems a little cuckoo.  Sweatshirts, sweat pants and sweaters all imply over heated bodies.  When was the last time you played tennis in those sneakers?  If the mood strikes, I’d prefer not to visualize my mate with teddy or muumuu.  Who is this teddy guy?  Formal occasions demand attire of collars, cuffs, imprisoned feet, a noose and a clown suit while resisting excessive sweating, panting or getting the urge to pick up a racket.  Just random stitches that hum through the sewing machine of my mind.