The good people of Australia are breathing a little easier today, as The Mister and I evacuated their country yesterday and left them to their happy, beer-drinking devices. About twenty-four hours after leaving Melbourne we landed in Nashville, tired and cranky, but none the worse for wear. As an added bonus, we didn't leave the great country of Oz any worse off than it was when we arrived, either. Just a little drier.
I took approximately eight frillion pictures, many of which I will be sharing with you lucky bastards in the next few days. Because there's really nothing more thrilling than viewing the vacation photos of a total stranger. I know, I know; you can thank me later.
On a rather exciting note, I am well on my way to making my living as a professional gambler. Shortly after arriving I tried my luck at the slot machines, or "pokeys" as they are known locally, and within ten minutes I had managed to win about $25. Not bad considering the fact that my high-rolling ass was sequestered in the $.02 section and had invested less than twenty cents in the whole endeavor.
A couple days later, The Mister informed me that I had to place a bet on the Melbourne Cup, Australia's equivalent of the Kentucky Derby. I hemmed and hawed, reviewed the racing form, and made my expert pick: Tawqeet. Since I was only betting $2, I decided to live dangerously and place a throwaway bet, too. I saw a horse named Delta Blues and figured I owed it to my homeland to toss some dinero this loser's way. He didn't have a chance at winning, but I was a proud American Southern girl and it was the least I could do. I considered it a form of patriotic charity.
One of my picks won the Melbourne Cup, and if I need to tell you which one it was, you have grossly overestimated my abilities. Somehow I managed to earn money by sitting on my fat ass playing games and picking ponies, all while drinking some nice, healthy cocktails.
Working is for suckers, bitches.
I took approximately eight frillion pictures, many of which I will be sharing with you lucky bastards in the next few days. Because there's really nothing more thrilling than viewing the vacation photos of a total stranger. I know, I know; you can thank me later.
On a rather exciting note, I am well on my way to making my living as a professional gambler. Shortly after arriving I tried my luck at the slot machines, or "pokeys" as they are known locally, and within ten minutes I had managed to win about $25. Not bad considering the fact that my high-rolling ass was sequestered in the $.02 section and had invested less than twenty cents in the whole endeavor.
A couple days later, The Mister informed me that I had to place a bet on the Melbourne Cup, Australia's equivalent of the Kentucky Derby. I hemmed and hawed, reviewed the racing form, and made my expert pick: Tawqeet. Since I was only betting $2, I decided to live dangerously and place a throwaway bet, too. I saw a horse named Delta Blues and figured I owed it to my homeland to toss some dinero this loser's way. He didn't have a chance at winning, but I was a proud American Southern girl and it was the least I could do. I considered it a form of patriotic charity.
One of my picks won the Melbourne Cup, and if I need to tell you which one it was, you have grossly overestimated my abilities. Somehow I managed to earn money by sitting on my fat ass playing games and picking ponies, all while drinking some nice, healthy cocktails.
Working is for suckers, bitches.
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