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Brisbane, state capital of Queensland ("Beautiful one day, Perfect the next"). The River City. My home town. And with so many wonderful female bloggers, the subject for this week's surfing guide for the ANZO region.
Kate at Lakhesis blogs about a trip that she did around outback Australia in 1993:
Anyway, I think it was the day we were onto Oodnadatta, after we'd been to Coober Pedy to stay in an underground hotel, that our bus driver took us on a bit of a detour. He was a cool driver, knowledgeable about everywhere we went (and a bit of a renegade, under the bus on the first day removing the 100km speed limiter from the engine otherwise we'll never get there in time).
He also reckoned not many people knew about this place in the outback, that it was a worth a look and a two-hour sidetrip. So we found ourselves on the edge of the Painted Desert, got to climb around and take photos a bit, and then it was on further north. To my fourteen-year old mind it was a just another of the wonders and experiences on the trip.
Token Woman at A Wanton Waste of Words wrote a beautiful letter to her new boyfriend:
We've become so close over such a short time, and it is truly amazing. I love how I can tell you my worst secret and you love me even more afterwards. I love how we can laugh at silly things at completely inappropriate times, and share embarrassing stories as we sit by a waterfall.
Madam Boffin at Hapless in BrisVegas has some fantastic Urban Family Legends, including this one:
Legend #6. The Phone Story
My mother was heavily pregnant with my youngest sister. It was about 8am in the morning and she was in labour. Since this was her 4th child, her contractions advanced very quickly and Mum was pretty much ready to give birth. Unfortunately, her ride wasn't ready to leave. Dad was talking on the phone. Nothing life-shatteringly important, just yapping. He continued talking on the phone as Mum's contractions progressed. "Yes, yes," he kept waving her off as Mum made urgent indications that she needed to leave now. Dad could talk under water with a brick in his mouth, you see. Eventually, they set off and my youngest sister was born in hospital... just.
Girl.Blog.Etc has the kind of post that I'm sure is made frequently between couples who are cohabiting:
John: Yeah, I done it.
Me: You did it.
John: Yeah.
Me: No, you did it.
John: Um.
Me: Did. Did not done.
John: Sorry?
Me: 'I done it' isn't the correct way of saying it. I did it.
John: No. I don't think so.
Me: [incredulous] You're the one who's supposed to be bloody English. You named the language after your country. Or the country after your language. Or. Um.
John: I'm good at English.
Me: I'm not talking to you anymore.
John: I DONE IT!!!
Cee at Words & Things makes a very eloquent post about the "C Word":
When I was in high school, I rolled my eyes and complained when my English teacher had us examine the sexist nature of language. "It's just language," I said with high sarcasm, and a big dose of arrogance. "What's the big deal?" And I think we should applaud that teacher on her admirable restraint and effort to get me to understand the implications of language that excludes and insults women. Unfortunately, I didn't begin to understand this concept until Uni, and now find it astonishing that so few other people seem to consider it. Working in a male dominated profession will do that to you, I guess.
Puss in Boots makes a really good post about how hard it is to stay friends with ex-boyfriends:
I have no idea why I can't let go of these things, but fuck that hurt. I absolutely hate hearing boys I've dated (and still somewhat like) talk about other girls they like and want to date. I'm not sure whether it actually hurts me or whether it just hurts my pride. I think it might be both. He's not the only one. The Walrus (a musician friend of mine who has the biggest appendage I've ever seen) is the only other ex I still talk to, and we were chatting on line the other night. He was telling me all about his new girlfriend and I just couldn't continue the conversation.
Contributing Editor Jules also blogs at Dragon Girl.
