Well, today marks 5 weeks since I got back in the good ol USA. I must say, it’s nice to be home. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time…but there’s no whiffle ball games and beer pong in southeast Asia. Yup, back to regular life. No more jaunting off to islands, no more laying by the pool, no more feasting on kangaroo meat. Mmmmm kangaroo meat.

Yeah, so Australia kicked ass. I’ve always wanted to go, and it was the perfect opportunity with me only being 6 hours away. Ny buddy Neil heard of my plan, and sure enough…decided it was time to burn some vacation days. I must say, we kicked the crap out of Australia. I think we slept 5 hours a night, and drank at least 12 beers a day the entire time we were there. It was almost perfect. Except…..it’s ridiculously expensive. Well, at least Sydney is. Australia somehow managed to skip this whole global economic crisis. I don’t know, maybe they are all living off residuals from The Crocodile Hunter or something. Luckily, I had some cash saved up from that two months of not paying for anything…and I blew it like Monopoly money.

Speaking of Monopoly money: How in gods name can you tip a stripper with dollar coins? I mean, I’m not giving her $5..and all the other ways I can think of can’t be legal in most civilized nations. Well, except for Canada.

I quickly familiarized myself with the local beer. Fosters? Yeah, Fosters is a myth. A sham. A shamocracy even. I couldn’t find Fosters in one single bar in a 200 mile radius of Metro Sydney. The closest we came was a bartender that thought they may have a can in the basement. That’s it. Nothing. Australia pulled the David Hasselhoff of beer on us, just like we did with Germany. We told them “Oh, here…there’s nothing more American than David Hasselhoff, then you come to America and find out he’s just a washed up drunk guy that no one gives a crap about. Well, the Aussies turned it around on us. What’s even worse, is that they did it with beer. Not cool guys, not cool at all. Some things are just friggin sacred.

But just when you want to get mad at them, they break out the Koalas. Then everyone goes awwww, and you forget that they spent years hoodwinking you to buy 5 gallon cans of shitty beer. Oh Koalas. What cute little things they are. What cute, smelly, mean little things they are. Koalas are like the junkies of the animal kingdom. They wake up, paw around for a few hours, growl at a couple of people, get their fix, sleep for 20 hours, then do it all over again. I can see that shit at the tavern, I didn’t need to fly half way across the world for that nonsense.

The Australians have awful taste in music. I mean, terrible. I saw a kareoke night where people had to sing every bad 80′s and 90′s love gone wrong song that was ever written. But, they sure do love their AC/DC.

But I have to tell ya, if it wasn’t like umpteen hours away…I could totally live in Australia. Instead: I’m back in Boston, back around those I love, and back to doing what I do best: Making dick jokes, acting like a jerk, and offending people.

Let’s get movin.