Nobody Likes an American

Blog off: Day 2

A blog off can be very taxing physically and mentally so last night I did some heavy thinking about my blokaphobia. The best way to conquer a fear is to confront it I once heard. So I decided that I would go and hang out with some real Aussie blokes and try and find out what makes them tick.

After work I met up with my secret elite travel club, whose names I can’t disclose, at the Windsor Castle Hotel on
Albert Street to discuss our upcoming adventure to Perth that I will indulge to you all in detail on a later date. We had maps, compasses, thumb tacks, highlighters and brochures out to plan out our strategies on the invasion on the natives of this far and distant western land.

I was feeling very exhausted from the whole “not eating or sleeping” thing, but I needed all the strength I could get for the expedition I was about to embark on and so I had a few bites of the delicious lamb meatloaf they prepared for me. I was introduced to two new operatives of the team. Two gentlemen we can case file as legitimist “Aussie blokes” who hailed from Queensland and another traveler friend from Wodonga aka “The Dong” in Victoria.

This was a good variety of the genuine article. The Queenslanders wore surf cloths, shorts, and thongs (flip flops) and the other male specimen from Wodonga wore a blue tank top known by some as “a wife beater” and a flannel button up shirt and work boots. The cherry on the top was that they all drove “utes“, which I would later crawl into the back of to go to another pub. I wouldn’t describe these gentlemen as “bogans”, as they were more educated in construction and drank Carlton Draft instead of VB, so maybe we should we call them “blokans”?

Along with these three gents, there was a very annoying uninvited, over compensating American girl from Utah that joined us. I was upset that she was going to join us at first but then I decided it would be good to watch the interaction of the two species and observe the mating habits throughout the evening.

Two of us climbed into the back of a cramped camper shell in the Queenslanders Ute where we proceeded with a very uncomfortable drive to the Espy (The Esplanade Hotel) in St. Kilda which is a landmark pub and venue across St Kilda beach. I had recently seen the hip-hop group, Public Enemy there and at that time caught up with my old friend Flavor Flav who shook my hand whilst rapping with a clock around his neck from behind the bar.

Now, the loud mouthed, try hard, American girl whom pulled all stops in completely annoying me, opened up the back hatch of the Ute and with waving arms and a loud shrieking voice said, “Do you want to earn some money!?! I just made a bet. Are you circumcised?!? Apparently according to her research, all Australian men are uncircumcised and she thought it would be a very brilliant and exciting cultural topic of discussion and continued to discuss it far past its welcome.

She continued to annoy me to a painful extent throughout the evening with her excessive dancing and playing with her top as she pushed out her breasts every ten minutes. She would complain in the style of a B movie actress that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have another beer and then say she would if it was purchased for her. After 5 more beers she would then dance around in a sandwich board of the two blokes and then complained that I was uptight and arrogant because I wouldn’t watch or join in on her ass slapping.

The blokes, as I was attempting to observe in their natural habitat, were completely rude to her and would periodically make fun of her to me in front of her, which I think she actually enjoyed. She had turned to me once and told me that she couldn’t stand Aussie guys because they are so rude to females but progressively spent the evening encouraging them. I probably shouldn’t have done so and I realize it is now probably a fatal mistake in getting my permanent residency, but I explained to her an ancient Australian secret that has been kept under wraps for many years until now.

I would probably have never discovered this secret if it hadn’t been for one an unexpected evening, back when I was living in St Kilda, when I ran into a very inebriated Aussie gentlemen at the The George one fateful night. He was so inebriated that he couldn’t tell if I had an Aussie accent or not. He started to tell me the great Aussie secret but suddenly stopped and asked, “You be an Aussie right mate?” In which I replied in the best Australian accent I could muster, “Yep”. He then sighed with a relieved smile and went on to tell me… The Secret.

History of the Australian Male Counsel of 1770

In 1770 when Australia was officially claimed by Brittan, all of the Australian men in the country gathered together in an undisclosed location to discuss a plan to establish a country at the far end of the earth where they could get rid former gentlemen like conduct towards women. At this very secret council all in attendance came to a unanimous vote that they would completely dispense any traditional gentleman like English courtesies and politeness towards any members of the opposite sex. The idea was that they could condition the female mind to no longer expect to be shown dignity and over the years convinced them that such things are considered “poofy” and not something a true Aussie Sheila would want. Purchasing a beer for her bloke and then expecting a “root” for it afterwards (sexual congress) would certainly suffice in this new society they created. Many rules were drawn up that day and have stuck till this day.

This delicately contrived conspiracy lasted countless generations until war came to Australia followed by the introduction to foreigners from other lands. Their customs towards females frightened and confused them at first but then quickly became desirable in some recorded cases. I don’t know what my life expectancy is after revealing this long kept secret, but perhaps I can die a martyrs death knowing it’s been revealed. The truth had to be told and if I don’t live to the fifth entry of the great blog off of 2009 you know why. This has secretly been passed on to generation after generation of Australian men who secretly meet once a week to discuss it at men’s social clubs.

Australian men get very territorial around American men as I discovered a year ago when I was at a bar in Brisbane’s south bank and I let a woman go ahead of me in line. All around me I heard gasps followed by a strong hand that fell on my shoulder with a very large Australian man slowly shaking his head at me.

The American girl mentioned in the above story was not honoring American women. She finally at one point sat down complaining her tummy hurt and then came to the idea that she should go into the woman’s rest room and make herself vomit. Shortly afterwards she returned to the pool tables smiling and dancing. “Feeling better I asked?” which she replied with a quick happy nod. “Did you puke yourself?” which she took some time to answer and then smiled and nodded again. “Excellent, I recommend you now have one of these guys buy you a vodka soda, it will settle your stomach”, which she did.

As the evening went on I was introduced to a ancient Aussie billiard game that they confirmed to me as being a very proper bloke game to play. It was a pool game they called “Ouch”. The rules are simple really. The first player shoots the white ball to the other side of the table. The other player stands on the other side then marks where the ball hit. Then vice-versa. Then the game begins.

Each player has to place a selected finger over the edge of the table of where the other player hit the ball. Then, holding the cue one handed, they then take turns on hitting the ball toward the other player’s finger. The other player cannot remove their finger unless it is hit by the other player’s ball where they can then say “ouch”. The key is to fully wrap your finger into lip of the table; if you put your finger straight down or out, it will be much more painful when it breaks. If a players ball falls into a pocket on their turn, the other player can then take a shot at the other players finger fully aimed holding the cue with two hands. This goes on until the other man quits. 
 

After about 30 minutes of screams and biting down on pool sticks, the game ended. That is until they asked me if I wanted to see the “Extreme Ouch” version of the game. For the sake of journalism, I said yes. This version of the game requires no pool cues. It’s finger against finger, man against man, and the balls are thrown full forced on the table using their hands. I can’t go on to explain in detail what I saw next as I am blocking it out of my mind, but I saw grown men cry not long afterwards. When the game ended they drank beer and merrily laughed about their mangled fingers.

I would like to continue my research on the interactions of the bloke and perhaps get its findings published someday. I still need to do much research on their behaviors.  If I can stay under the radar long enough to smuggle my research out of Australia to the US I believe that maybe in a few decades we can begin our work on a cure.