Things I want to make Angela say out loud: Stateside edition

I know, I've been M.I.A. for far too long. Here are my excuses: I'm sick. My kid got me sick. The little one. The one who pushes his snotty little face up against mine and demands kisses. And like a sucker I comply. And then I get sick.

Before I got sick, I was unplugged for awhile because Angela (you remember Angela, don't you?) was here! She flew all the way from Australia to be with me (ok, and her family or whatever, but mostly ME) for the holidays! So I was busy last week packing a year's worth of fun, memories, and stupid inside jokes into FIVE. AMAZING. DAYS. And I think we did a pretty good job, because we're awesome like that.

She has friends all over the state so she did a tour of California (it takes some time, east coasters!), but obviously I'm the greatest and most important of all her friends so I got a whole week of her time before she headed to the Bay Area where her parents live. Now she's with her family for Christmas, and she goes back Down Under on the 27th (let me know if you need flight numbers or anything, stalkers).

She brought my children many presents, including some book about a wombat or something. No, it's not a wombat, it's a possum. She threatened to bring some Australian "childhood classic" called Wombat Stew wherein a number of animals posing as friendly neighbors gang up and poison a wombat or something.

OK wait...I just read the Amazon description and it actually sounds quite lovely and cute. What is wrong with you, Angela? Why did you tell me these animals were ganging up to poison the wombat when they were actually saving him? I worry about you, I really do.

Well, possibly she's been traumatized by my reaction to the book she bought my child years ago, "Love You Forever" (creepiest. book. ever.), and is terrified to bring anything even hinting of controversy into my home. Wise move. So the one she brought is not Wombat Stew, it's actually about a possum. Possum Magic. It's a cute story. And I guess a slightly more normal animal; we have possums here.  Or are they opossums? I really don't know. Or care. Moving on.

So now my daughter is fully educated regarding the wildlife of Australia. Wombats, possums, kangaroos, koalas, emus, kookaburras, tasmanian devils (evidently they don't actually spin around like tornadoes), dingoes (don't worry, I warned her that they eat babies).

Sugar gliders look terrifying. Also? An echidna looks suspicously like a porcupine.

Yeah. Apparently that's a wombat. Some kind of furry pig? I don't know. It doesn't look particularly appetizing to me.

Angela also brought my 5-year-old...a boomerang. A "Genuine Australian Returning Boomerang."

"Guarantee to return...when thrown correctly." 

It's winter here (not like in backwards Australia, where it's inexplicably summer), so we haven't actually ventured outside to attempt to "throw correctly" this boomerang. I'll let you know how that goes, though. Possibly one or both of my children are about to die. I don't trust inanimate objects that come back to you when you throw them.

So. It's been awhile since I did "Things I want to make Angela say out loud," right? I think it's about time for another installment.

We'll call this the Stateside Edition. Don't worry, Aussies (Roz, Lizzie, Triona, I'm talking to you. I know you're reading this, because I am an international phenomenon) (Yes, I know Triona isn't an Aussie but whatever. If you want me to think of you as Irish you may need to come visit me and prove your Irishness. It'll be fun! I bake!). Maybe I'll do another Aussie edition for you after she returns.

If she returns. I'm still holding out hope that she'll change her mind and stay, frankly.

So.


Things I want to make Angela say out loud, stateside edition:

(With feeling, please, Ang. And I realize your tradition is to read this to your housemates and they're not around right now, so you can read to your mom or somebody. Just read it out loud. Humor me.)

1. Australia sucks. I'm staying right here. 
2. You know what? American peanut butter is SO MUCH BETTER than that junk they sell in Australia. I LOVE American peanut butter. I think I'll just stay home and eat it for the rest of my life.*
3. Hey, girl. You want a toothpick?**
4. I've lived in Australia for two years of my life and I still cannot even come close to faking an Australian accent. Obviously I'm a failure and there's no point to living there anymore. Guess I'll just stay home.
5. Ryan Gosling? Is he that guy from The Notebook? Yeah, he's not really my type.
6. There are no Chili's fried cheese sticks in Australia. LAME. I'm staying in the good old U.S. of A. where they know how to do appetizers.
7. It's DECAFFEINATED.**
8. I'm totally planning to bring a bomb on the plane back to Australia, so they should probably just put me on the no-fly list now and save everybody a lot of trouble. Yeah I said it. BOMB. On a PLANE. Bomb ba bomb bomb bomb! Seriously. No-fly list. I belong on it.

*You guys, she still totally hates peanut butter. That's why it's still funny. 

**This one is probably only funny to me. I'm ok with that.

Things I want to make Angela say out loud.

My friend Angela lives in Australia.  Don't ask me why.  She belongs here with me but insists on living there where I just learned they don't even have graham crackers.  True story, you guys.  No s'mores.  Read that again.  No.  S'mores.  Try to wrap your mind around that.  It's not pretty.

Also?  What do they feed their babies and toddlers when they're trying to cook dinner?  I would get nothing done without graham crackers.  Nothing.

Other things about Australia:  It's winter over there.  It's also tomorrow.  Seriously.  It's like a parallel universe.  Plus a time warp.  All in one.  And while they don't have graham crackers, they do have dingoes.  Dingoes, as you know, eat babies.  So maybe they don't actually need graham crackers, because all the babies have been eaten by dingoes and so the mothers are able to cook dinner in peace. This would also explain why Australia needs to steal my friends.  It's how they keep their population up.  It's all coming together.

Anyway, she's living over there, going to school, being glamorous and international.  And the other day she told me that she reads my blog aloud to her glamorous, international roommates!  And sometimes they laugh.  So I can now accurately say that I am internationally acclaimed.

You guys:  I am an internationally acclaimed blogger.

But that's not the point of this post.  The point is: did you notice that I said Angela reads this blog ALOUD to her roommates?  That means I've been offered a prime opportunity here.  And so I'm introducing a new segment:  Things I want to make Angela say out loud.

Now, I won't actually be able to hear her say these things, but I'll imagine it, and that's good enough for me.  Actually...no, it's not.  Note to Angela's roommates:  please comment on this post and let me know if she said all these things out loud, and if so, how funny it was, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being not funny at all and 10 being so funny you snorted your chocolate milk (you do have chocolate milk there, don't you?  I really hope so or this whole scale is meaningless) out your nose.

Without further ado.

Things I want to make Angela say out loud:

(With feeling, please, Ang.  Come on.)

1. I only moved here because I'm, like, sooooooooo in love with Crocodile Dundee.
2. I.  Love.  Peanut butter.* 
3. Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts; mutilated monkey meat; little birdies' dirty feet; great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts, AND I FORGOT MY SPOON.
4. "Love You Forever" is the creepiest, most inappropriate book of all time.  I will never buy this for a child again as long as I live.  What is wrong with me?  Why would I buy this for Alyssa's children?  I am a sick, sick individual and I need help.  I hang my head in shame.
5. Honestly?  Australia kinda sucks.  U! S! A!  ...  U! S! A! ... U! S! A!
6. If Jeff Probst had to choose between marrying me or marrying Alyssa, he would totally choose Alyssa, because she is awesome. 

Aw!  Thanks, Ang.  I'm glad you finally admitted that Probst would fall in love with me at first sight.  But you know what?  I'm taken.  Duh.  You were in my wedding, remember?  So he's all yours.  But only if you promise to come back to California and live next door to me so we can hang out and eat fried cheese and so I can, you know, enjoy Probst's, um, company.

*She hates peanut butter, you guys.  That's why it's funny.