Gainful Employment
I landed me a job in one of Brisbane's two gay pubs, the Sportsman Hotel, where I get to sell beer to puffs whilst attempting Responsible Service Of Alcohol. It's actually illegal to get too drunk in Australian pubs, it's the job of the bar staff to keep an eye on everyone and get them to drink water if we think they're starting to have too much fun. This is all thanks to the Lawsuit Culture, if they get pissed in our pub then they fall under the bus on the way home then we get massive fines for letting them get Unduly Intoxicated. I don't like fines so I've become fascist water dyke which can't be doing anything to help the so called drought they're meant to be having here.
Other duties include delivering food to patrons at their table after sneakily relieving them of a few chips and washing up in the back in between zipping drag queens into tight frocks and offering useless advice on what wig they should wear that night. I'm also responsible for perving at the few girls we get in who range from A Bit Of Alright to Excuse Me, I Think You Dropped Your Paper Bag.

Andy, Mouse, Paul, Ella, Merlin, Chris, Anna Mae, Brettski And Me

I also had a Monday to Friday job in a warehouse taking locks out of boxes and putting them into different boxes. I lasted 8 days before they said they didn't need me anymore. I think they wanted someone to actually Do Stuff as opposed to staring mournfully at boxes and trying to put off opening them by colouring everything in in marker pen. This is fine though because I get enough hours at the pub now on account of them being desperate for staff. They'd have to be in order to employ a pierced lesbian who hadn't pulled a pint for about 5 years in the first place.

Drought? What Fucking Drought?
Call me old fashioned but droughts conjure up images of brown foliage and arid wastelands, not torrential rainfall and flash flooding. I can't remember how I dealt with rain, it's been so long since I've had to function in it and I'm still refusing to buy an umbrella dammit all because I'm in Australia and it's not meant to rain in Australia! Yes, I'm aware the dams were at less than 20% and yes, I know they needed the water but its done nothing but rain since we got here and quite frankly I'm over it not least because it relieves me of my right to be a Smug Cunt to those back home.

Jingle Bells Etc Etc
So Christmas happened again. This is my second Christmas in Australia and I still can't get my head round the Xmas In Summer thing. Despite the rain it's still been warm and humid and walking into a shopping centre wearing shorts and flip flops and seeing Christmas trees and decorations still freaks me out. It's weird. It's just not right. I had the urge to sit in a freezer with a piece of tinsel until it went away.

Anyway, me and Irma spent it with John and his fella, Brendan, Dom, Jess and a couple of others where I proceeded to eat and drink too much and pass out.

Ah, nothing like a traditional Christmas with the Queen... Uh, I mean queens.

Pretty

Today's Top Tip
If you have a passport photo taken after you've spent all day running round Brisbane in the summer during one of the worst hair days in history you'll end up with something that looks like a mugshot from Prisoner: Cell Block H stuck in your travel document for the next 10 years. Prepare to be pulled over at customs.

written by  Koala Bear on January 22, 2008 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
tagged Work and Bollocks
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I love Pride events, they're a wicked excuse to get pissed and they're always massively fun. I firmly believe there is a direct correlation between your anal capacity and your ability to throw a party thus Pride events are generally the highlight of my year.
Even Oxford has had a go at it for the past few years although it pissed it down in '03 and '04 and one year the neighbours made us turn the music down. Still, I hope they keep trying.

Anyway, this is a serious post... What...? Stop, come back... I promise it'll hurt less than bum sex...

PRIDE

A mate of mine refuses to go to any Pride ever, he thinks the march is a waste of time because we have nothing left to fight for and he doesn't see what we have to be so proud of. Ok he has a point, just because we sleep with members of the same sex, what, do we want a fucking medal?
Another friend says why bother shouting for something we already have - Equality.

In the UK at least we pretty much have everything we want on a material level if nothing else.
We can adopt kids, join the army, Section 28 ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Section_28 ) has been repealed, the gay age of consent is now equal to the heterosexual one, we can even “marry” thus giving us the right to messy divorces and bitter custody battles over the cats just like real people.

No, we don’t have to fight anymore in that sense.

But all over the world gays and lesbians are persecuted, beaten, even jailed and executed purely on the grounds of their sexuality. What about them? Why are we sitting back smugly while this still happens in the world?

And we might even have everything we ever wanted on paper but even in the UK and Australia homosexuality is still a taboo subject. There are still people out there who batter us, spit at us and shout abuse at us in the street and only when this persecution has been eradicated, when the bigots have been shown that their behaviour will no longer be tolerated by the community, only then will Pride cease to be a War Cry and become purely a voice of Thanks.

Thank You to the people who did have to fight. The men and women throughout the years who risked their freedom and even their lives so we could have the right to equality. The men and women who wouldn’t roll over and let the right-wingers and the homophobes walk all over us.

Pride, to me, isn’t just a party, a celebration of our diversity and strength. To me, Pride is a way of saying “Thank You!” to these people. Thank you to those who stood up for us as a community, who burnt that closet, stood tall and proud and shouted for our rights as human beings.
Pride is a Thank You as well as letting the world know that we're not done yet. There are still issues to be addressed and challenges to be faced, maybe not on our own doorstep but the problems of our communities around the world are our problems too.

We ARE here, we ARE queer and we are no longer second class citizens. We have rights and we are equal, people have fought long and hard to get us where we are today and if that’s not something to be proud of I don’t know what is.

written by  Koala Bear on March 1, 2008 from Sydney, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
tagged Sydney and Bollocks
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Aforementioned John And Two Labs

It hurt because it was ATTACHED TO MY FUCKING HEAD!!

It is a clinically proven fact that lesbians can't function without some small amount of crisis in their lives. The scientific term is Dramaticus Rugmunchus, or Lesbian Drama, and if we don't have this we go out and find something to give us cause for grief such as sleeping with the biggest bull dyke on the scenes ex girlfriend or dating a known psychopath. I like my face the shape it is so to get my stress fix I decided to send my goon damaged passport off for renewal at the last possible minute which means that with less than three weeks until I have to leave the country its still not back.

I still don't have a New Zealand working holiday visa but I do have flights to Fiji which should in theory relax me but I ain't going anywhere without this little book containing the worst photo of me ever taken apart from that time I passed out by the river in Perth and Raz sat on my head with his pants down and took pictures. Goon has alot to answer for.

Damn this genetic addiction to drama I have, if only I could live without some small amount of crisis in my life then maybe I wouldn't be turning slowly grey at the age of (coughs)27(coughs).

Give thanks for Loreal.

written by  Koala Bear on April 20, 2008 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
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I have vague recollections of being dragged onto stage on my birthday, sipping an Ella Va'Lay Surprise (surprise, you've lost the use of your basic motor functions) but again, being pissed helped and everything else was drowned out by the sound of liver caving in on itself.

Then there's the Sportsman Hotel Annual Drag show which this year happened to fall on my last night on the bar. This meant I would still be staff and with it being a staff drag show an all that I'd be expected to perform. On stage. In front of people that were actually looking at me!

Me As Anthony Canlicker

I toyed with the idea of deportation or sustaining some sort of crippling injury during a freak accident but I kinda need a good track record in order to get into other countries and I generally don't move around enough to cause myself a mischief so I resigned myself to the fact and me and Chris decided we were going to do Kids by Kylie and Robbie and anyway, how hard could girl-to-boy drag be?

Anthony Canlicker And Alana Speed

Finally, Sasha drew a beard on me and darkened my eyebrows to complete the look and I spent the night trying to resist the urge to scratch my imaginary bollocks in front of a room full of people and wondering who I should start a fight with at the kebab van later on coz he looked at my bird funny ok?

Olivia Kuntz

Alana Speed

Y'know I've never been so scared in my whole life, ever. I can't recall a time I felt that sick because I had to do something I was reluctant to do. I don't actually remember much of being on stage, I don't know if I remembered to mime or not, I remember bits and bobs and just wanting to get off stage at the end and Chris not letting me by the time I did get off I was a sweating, shaking wreck. Despite the date on the bottom of this post I was in Fiji by the time I got the bottle up to watch the video back.

Drag

Drag

More Drag

Yet More Drag

Drag Overload

Shy... Guy?!

It seems I have an abject inability to shimmy, one or both shoulders forget what they're meant to be doing resulting in something resembling a minor fit and there wasn't much dancing so much as wandering aimlessly round the stage waving my arms about occasionally but hey, I did remember to mime. Bella Chimes (Chris) was brilliant though, no way on this earth could I have gotten up there on my own and while she was dragging me back on stage against my will she said some awesome things that I wasn't expecting so thanks again :)

I had a top time working at the Sporties, everyone has been brilliant, both the staff and patrons. The boys (and some of the girls...) that drink there are some of the warmest, funniest people I've ever met and they made me welcome right from my first day. I love the atmosphere there, the look on the faces of the people who haven't worked out where they are when a 7' drag queen sashays past, watching the pool comps and whiling the day shifts away chatting to the regulars.

The Good Ol' Sporties

Yep, I'm gonna miss working at a place where at the mention of a boys vs girls pool comp where everyone has to wear a dress the girls groan in horror and the boys start picking out their outfit.

written by  Koala Bear on May 6, 2008 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
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The places I've been and the things I've seen have been incredible but the people I've done them with made it special. Anyone can stand and gaze over a stunning lookout, relax in a naturally thermal pool, swim in a crystal clear waterfall plunge pool, watch a spectacular sunset or breathtaking moon rise but if you have your mates to share it with it somehow brings it to life. You have someone to laugh with, play with and someone to talk about the day with as you chill out in the garden at a backpackers with a cask of goon or as you kick back round a camp fire and stare at the unimaginable blanket of stars above you.

Backpackers on the same journey as you become your family and you become theirs, you see them day after day at the hostel or you head out on a road trip together and you quickly get to know and trust them like you've known them for years, you can't remember life without them. You cook together, eat together, drink together and sleep together. Not like that you filthy minded... oh ok sometimes yeah...

Even the people you meet when you settle in a town or city for a while, the locals all affect you and change the course of your life in some small way. Four months are like eight while you travel, its not a so-called normal life or situation, everything seems somehow intensified or speeded up. You sweep into the lives of locals, become their friends and they become part of who you are and affect the way you think then you're gone again just as quickly, an insignificant blip in time and you wonder if they'll remember you like you'll remember them, if you affected them like they touched you and added that bit extra to your life. Sometimes these are the hardest people to say goodbye to, I've said it before, its so hard to explain to someone why you have to leave when sometimes you don't want to, you just know its the best decision.

I think that sometimes I lose touch with whats important. Its not about how many mountains you can climb or rivers you can swim, how many places you can travel to or cultures you can absorb, its about who you do it with because that person or those people are the ones that are going to make your adventure everything it can be and so much more. It doesn't have to be the same people for every journey or road trip, it could be with someone you've known for a while or someone you met a week ago in the hostel and drunkenly agreed you were going to head to the next destination together (yep, that's happened). You might even think you'll be doing part of the journey alone them someone wanders up and asks if they can come too.

And the hardest part, the part I'll never get used to is letting go and saying goodbye. Starting afresh with a new country and a whole new set of people to get to know but then isn't that what its all about? Meeting people? Starting new friendships without letting the old ones fall by the wayside? Going on new and totally different adventures with new and totally different people?

Bring on the unknown.

written by  Koala Bear on May 8, 2008 from Brisbane, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
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Flying Hiiiigh

I Just Like This Photo Ok?

First Views Of NZ

Auckland From The Air

So I made it to New Zealand yesterday with only minor hassles and by minor I mean being accused of smuggling drugs by a dog with a penchant for squeaky toys being handled by an eight foot Maori woman. I may be exaggerating slightly but when you're sat there while a man shouts at you for putting your hand in your pockets with visions of latex gloves flashing through your mind things do seem a bit out of proportion, I mean, I've never been in trouble with the police or customs before. This was a whole new thing for me. I shake when I'm pulled over for a random breath test even if I haven't had a drink for three days. I don't deal well with people in uniforms thinking I've done stuff I haven't, I just ooze guilt from every pore, I feel like I have "I DID IT AND DAMMIT I'D DO IT AGAIN!" written across my forehead in permanent marker.

Before the customs guy searched my bag he told me if they didn't find anything they might strip search me and you know what was going through my mind? Honestly? All I could think was, fuck, I wish I'd bothered shaving this morning. If I was gonna have to get naked in front of strangers whilst stone cold sober I could at least look vaguely hot instead of having a minge you could sand door frames with. I made a mental note to improve personal grooming before any future flights just in case.

So he searched my bags and jacket, all the time asking me loads of questions about my drug use and have I come into contact with anyone who uses drugs and if I did drugs it was ok as long as I didn't try and bring them into New Zealand. He emptied everything out onto an aluminium bench, went through all my pockets (bear in mind I wear combat trousers, I'm a huge fan of pockets) and by the time he'd gone through my bags and found nothing he let me go.

Without a strip search.

Shame. It'd have been the most action I'd seen in a fortnight.

written by  Koala Bear on May 21, 2008 from Auckland, New Zealand
from the travel blog: Tiny Little NZ Road Trip
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I have no idea how they'd pronounce "elocution."

Finding Work
Three weeks it took me to get a job. Three bloody weeks! I've never attended so many interviews that have those inane questions such as;
"Why do you want to work here?" (Because you'll give me money.)
"What's the most important thing you look for in a job." (Wages.)
"How would your best friend describe you?" (An anally retentive nerd with bad hair and appalling taste in music.)
"Describe yourself in 5 words." (Seriously? Ok. Cold, tired, narky and sexually frustrated.)
"And what could you bring to the company?" (Donuts on Fridays if that's what it takes!)

Eventually I got 40 hours a week in a national chain store where for the first time in 10 years I have to take my piercings out for work. Yep, I'm a corporate retail whore. Every day before work I put all my jewellery in little sealy bags and wave goodbye to my thought processes for 8.5 hours, then I don my bright red shirt complete with name badge in case enough of my brain disintegrates and I forget who I am and spend the day rearranging things on racks.

And How Can I Help YOU?

It's the most boring job in the world surpassed only by that time I decided that making plastic envelopes was a viable career option but it's a job init. They pay shit wages but they do pay wages and after all, that's the most important thing we look for in a job, right?

...Right?

New Wheels
I'm now the proud owner of a Toyota Camry station wagon. Thankfully it's not the 3.9 litre 6 cylinder beast my last car was given the shocking price of fuel over here but it's big enough to sleep two people without kicking each other in the head or waking up with cramps. And by waking up I mean from the kind of broken attempt at sleep that happens when you're folded in half on the back seat of a sedan. I'm also a bit disturbed at the longness of it and anyone who ever saw me try and park the Falcon will understand why but I love it. Not as much as the Falcon yet, I loved that car about as much as it's possible to love a car without it being A Bit Funny but I'm sure once me and the Camry (who is apparently called Harry) are on the road we'll develop that special bond that single people with no pets have with their vehicles.

Shaggin' Wagon

And In Other News
About 4 years after everyone else in the world I'm now addicted to playing Scrabulous through Facebook. I'm not very good at it though, I get excited if I can make words of more than four points and it doesn't help that I keep getting letters the Welsh would cream over. But come on, bring it on, I'll 'av ya.

That is all.

written by  Koala Bear on June 13, 2008 from Wellington, New Zealand
from the travel blog: Tiny Little NZ Road Trip
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Aaanyway, here we go. Tourist type stuff I got up to before taking off up north to the nation's Should Be The Capital, Auckland.

Rowena's Lodge, Wellington

Me And Javier On A Night Out

Cable Car To The Botanic Gardens
On account of the fact New Zealand is made entirely of hills you'll find that some of the tourist attractions involved climbing up them or rolling down them. In Wellington they have a handy cable car that'll take you up one of the aforementioned hills up to the Botanic Gardens where you get to spend a few hours wandering round and looking at trees and more hills.

Wellington Cable Car

Wellington is one of those places that'll either get you really fit really quickly or have you crawling to the NHS and begging for a new pair of lungs.

Mount Victoria
Take a group of backpackers. Remove alcohol. Add boredom and a Mancunian bloke called Dan who suggests we all walk up Mount Victoria in the dark.

Welly At Night From Mt Victoria

It's a stunning view from the top in all honesty, I still haven't been up in the daylight though. When I pass back through I'll head back up there. In the car.

Red Rock Seal Colony
So you drive for about 15 minutes to the beginning of the 4WD only road, park up and begin the 1.5 hour trek to see the seals that are sprawled out over the rocks at various points along the walk. It's so cool to see them.

Lone Seal

Red Rock Seal Colony

I could so easily be a seal, me. I could get fat and blubbery and spend my days lounging around looking bored and stinking of fish. In fact catch me on any given Sunday and I'm almost there.

Getting Away
It took me a grand total of three days to get fed up of answering the retarded questions of people that in England we'd describe as A Bit Council and picking stuff up that the general public were too fucking lazy to return to the shelves themselves for a measly, piddling NZ$12 per hour so I handed my notice in and headed up to Auckland. It took a mere 10 hours by car to get there followed by about 90 minutes of driving round the city, swearing loudly at the map book which was clearly lying to me. After not being able to find the backpackers I was booked into I ended up in a tent for two nights at City Garden Lodge before there was room inside.

Auckland

As feral and outdoorsy as I like to think I am not even I'm happy about camping out when the temperature drops to 1 degree and you're kept awake all night wondering if the tent you borrowed leaks.

Fair weather camper indeed. I want to go back to the Tropics.

written by  Koala Bear on June 24, 2008 from Wellington, New Zealand
from the travel blog: Tiny Little NZ Road Trip
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Maybe it's because I'm weirded out by empty backpackers run by a man in a baseball hat that somehow looks slightly too large for his head and his European missus, or maybe it's just because I think you should be allowed to bring your mates into the place you're staying with it after all being your temporary home.

It could be because I resent being told I essentially have go to bed at 11pm because they're closing the TV room, communal area, kitchen and dining room at that time or perhaps its just because I prefer to do my own laundry as opposed to handing it over to two people who are barely about.

So yeah. Maybe it's just me that hated staying at Auckland International Backpacker in Parnell.

Probably because I have issues with people other than my mother washing the skid marks out of my knickers.

written by  Koala Bear on July 7, 2008 from Auckland, New Zealand
from the travel blog: Tiny Little NZ Road Trip
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Clearly I'm used to needles, I have several tattoos and my face resembles an expensive pin cushion, I should be ok with blood tests, right?

Right?

Ha yeah you'd think so. Last time I had blood taken I cried. Twice. They gave me a lollipop. I was 25. And watching Kama have blood taken the other day? The nurse was soothing ME through it.

So on Wednesday I get the chest x-ray and the blood tests done, I'm thinking about taking Kama so she can feel sorry for me but then that'd destroy my Butch Dyke Image I've so carefully crafted over the years, can't have people knowing I'm really gayer than a row of pink tents now can I. Plus sympathy is as alien to Kama as a sense of taste and style is to me, she's more likely to take photos and post them on Facebook than make cooing noises and promise me a pampering later on.

On Friday I get to go for a medical where hopefully they'll discover that a strict diet of vodka, cask wine and 2 minute noodles makes for a fit and healthy backpacker with no signs of malnutrition or vitamin deficiency.

Oh yes. I'm. So. Doomed.

written by  Koala Bear on November 14, 2008 from Auckland, New Zealand
from the travel blog: Tiny Little NZ Road Trip
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