# 97
Winding up on the jittery side of the ledger wasn't part of my vision. In fact, the thought never crossed my mind. I entered the Nervous Nineties full of beans, carrying a sack with some of the finest thoughts and trivial pursuits known to mankind, and hopeful of declaring the innings closed some time shortly thereafter. Well, perhaps not closed per se, but temporarily unavailable due to the resumption of the regular variety of life.
That was the blueprint. And the fucker flew out the window at some point between breakfast and brunch.
Nothing relating to that thought goes a little something like this: the most popular word around the office since the 13th of June has been 'Oh-sturaria' which is really similar to the name of the team that defeated the Japanese national side in the first round of the World Cup. The details of actual events are mostly over my head as we don't own a TV set nor think it a good idea to rent one. However, the feeling of reading the final score at the official FIFA web site come the morning of the 13th was a cliché of the proverbial "rubbing my eyes" terminology, which I've been conditioned to portray as standard practice of imagery for such an occasion.
Somehow, being Australian has given people the impression that I was partially, if not entirely, responsible for the 3-1 outcome in favour of the Wallaroobiecues.
My role, as ambassador for my country as well as a card carrying member of the Sensei Abroad fraternity, has been to educate my fellow oxygen loving purists in the art of truth avoidance, which I have done with utmost respect to the trailblazers before me. As part of my arsenal, I've concocted a mixture of persistent nodding and combined it with the phrase 'Yes, it was mostly me, you're right there,' which I have sipped from a label-free transparent plastic bottle during socially acceptable times. The remainder of the time has been spent thinking of other things to say to make it all seem somehow more real than the actual reality of Australia defeating those energetic Japanese at that game where the round ball often doesn't find the back of the net.
Oh, and I've been riding on the crest of the wave of someone else's success. It's a slow and steady journey but the view's insane from up here.
Meanwhile, the rubbing of my skin-based cranium for the transference of success to native groins, hanstrings and white leather boots by countless members of the educational brotherhood has been an annoyance as well as a thoroughly pleasurable experience. In non-partisan terms of truth avoidance, it's been anything other than annoying as I can't speak highly enough of group-based exfoliation activities where I don't drain my already knackered body of precious energy. I also take the occasional wad of delight in being the centre of attention.
I've sought approval from every school principal in my district to erect a statue bearing my likeness with the caption: 'The source of infinite knowledge AND single-handedly responsible for the 3-1 demolition job of
The phone line has been down, so no word as yet.
PS Ninety-seven not out.
8 comments:
Ho ho ho! Clearly, your knowledge on other matters has stood you in good stead.
The polish fellow who works in our paper warehouse has been commiserated all morning.
We really thought they would hold the Germans to a draw..
Ze Germans have vayz of vinning ven ze chips are braun.
Tis funny to feel like an ambassador for your country when OS. When i was in the UK everyone expected me to drink and swear and scratch myself constantly to prove my Oztralian-ness. Of course i was more than willing to comply :P
I've never been to England. I imagine many people look pasty from overexposure to clouds. I also imagine every other twelve-year-old to be an expert in break and enters, computer hacking and blue collar fraud (shoplifting).
I behaved in the manner you described during four-and-a-half years of living in Cairns because I was hoping to blend in. I only felt alienated when I spoke because my Adelaidian accent gave me away as an impostor. I was often stopped in the middle of a pint and asked to speak. 'What should I say?' I'd say, to which whoever had asked me replied, 'You talk funny (because they didn't know that funnily was a word). Are ya a Pom?'
In Japan, the first question is, 'Are you (an) American?'
If I happen to be taking a piss in public, garroting kittens or lighting fireworks in government buildings, the answer is, "Yes."
go heat! sorry, wrong sport. i like canada's chances this year, i think they'll go undefeated.
When we were heading abroad, I have no idea how many people, presumably trying to 'help', gave us advise to not acknowledge our U.S. origins, which I found to be terribly silly...while I don't speak with anything that I'd consider a Texas twang, I absolutely refuse to lie to complete strangers because they might look down on us as schmucky tourists. Trust me, given enough time, I can give you a reason to hate me besides the fact that I'm from the U.S.
BB: I played for the Cairns Heat (baseball) for four years. Go Heat!
Mob: The reason for the assumption (here) that any non-Asian is most likely from America could be from the saturation of American culture. If people have the courage to ask me a question, without fail it will be 'Are you American?' Their reaction to finding out I'm from Australia results in an exclamation of disbelief in what can only be decribed as comical. It's flattering to know that the sterotypical mould has been broken, albeit inadvertently.
On with the Aussie cape. Up, up and away!
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