Sunday, October 10, 2010

Down Under, Up Over

Australians and Americans have a long-running attempt to out-snark each other. Aussies love to make fun of Americans, preferably without the Americans getting the joke (see Foster's beer commercials and Crocodile Dundee) while Americans are more straightforward with their insults (Yeah, that mullet haircut? You're welcome.)

Aussies speak a different sort of English, derived from so-called "proper English" and the influence of beer. I've suspected that Aussies are really descendants of Brits who got drunk enough to forget to be pompous and boring, decided they liked it, then were banished to Oz to avoid embarrassing the rest of Britain. The Irish portion of Australia just came over for the party and never left. (History claims otherwise. I like my version better.)

The language is, indeed, a barrier to understanding people from either place. Here's an example:

Aussie bloke: "He was wearin' thongs and a singlet. What a bogan."

What an American thinks: "Thong underwear and one-piece spandex wrestling tights? A bogan must be some sort of circus performer or aerobics instructor." (Then memories of Olivia Newton-John from that Physical video come to mind unbidden, to those of us unfortunately old enough to remember it.)

Aussie translation: thongs = flip-flops, singlet = tank top/wifebeater, American = fokkin' idiot!

Stateside, Macca = Paul McCartney. Down under, it means pretty much anything with a name beginning with Mc- or Mac-, but most often refers to McDonald's. Beatleburgers, anyone? There's two left... (goin' to hell for that, brb)

People in the USA make fun of Australian speech, but anyone who has ever been to the southern United States knows who has the funnier accent. (And they say Aussies talk weird? Pfft!) Conversely, Aussies use America as a running punchline, but the ones who want to be famous aspire to come here as proof they've made it big. And then they try to lose their accent to get better gigs. To that I say NOOOO! We actually love the way they talk. How about finding a gig that calls for an Aussie lead? Anyone ever think of that? Oh right, Crocodile Dundee. Nevermind then.

I have to touch on that for a moment. All most Americans know about Australia they learned from Paul Hogan, "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin, and those damn Foster's beer ads. It's no wonder Aussies think we're idiots. Granted, some of the Dundee stereotypes were true, just like some of the ones in "My Name Is Earl" are also true. But it's not the big picture, of course. Not all Aussies are safari guides on crack, and not all Americans are trailer-trash hicks.

Going back to the Aussie culture collectively known as "bogans." Apparently they're a mix of American metalheads circa the 80's and rednecks. In the USA, these are/were two distinct groups, since most rednecks prefer country music, although the line often blurred with AC/DC-loving trailer trash as a subgroup. Here, rednecks can be great, salt-of-the-earth people, or they can be the stereotypical hicks portrayed by the media. For some of us, being a redneck is a source of pride and we resent the jabs from those who assume the title equates to dimwitted slackers with half a dozen kids and welfare checks spent on cheap beer. I suspect some Aussie bogans feel the same way. (Google "Sam Worthington" for an example of a cashed-up bogan, one of the better ones to be sure.)

This could easily turn into a "You Might Be a Bogan If..." series of one-liners, but we'd need the Aussie version of Jeff Foxworthy to pull it off. I hear Paul Hogan could use some extra cash.

I think the only way to really "get" Australia is to go there, submerse oneself in the culture, make friends with some dinkum Aussies and drink several beers. Apparently there's something in beer that triggers enlightenment, though for an American this might take several attempts. I'm willing to try. Anybody want to sponsor me on this educational expedition?

Monday, October 04, 2010

Monday, Buggy Monday

Most people hate Mondays. I have a love/hate relationship with them. For many years, Monday was my day off from work, so I didn't have the typical dread like most nine-to-fivers do of dragging myself away from the weekend to face the beginning of another workweek.

Lately I've been working every other Monday. Still not too bad, but I do get that drag-butt syndrome on the days I have to get up and go in. The off days are still great; in fact I really enjoy Mondays when I have the day to myself. The downside, of course, is that Tuesday becomes my Monday and brings all the stereotypical Monday crap along with it.

I've always wondered why Garfield the cat despised Mondays. It's not like he had to get up early and go to work. He's a cat. His Monday hatred was an excuse to sleep all day and be grouchy to everyone, which he did no matter what day it was anyway. (I sometimes adopt a Garfield attitude, and much like the cat, my attitude can be quickly reversed with the consumption of coffee and/or lasagna.)

I worked all weekend, so today is my Monday off. I had an early doctor's appointment, so no sleeping in. Strike one. I had to dress somewhat respectably and fix myself up a bit, so no lazing around in my jammies with my hair all askew. Strike two. Have to go visit the vampires at the lab for bloodwork. Strike three, I'm out.

It's raining today, but to me that's not a strike against Monday. I like rainy days. Unfortunately I have to go drive in it again instead of sitting by the window with a book and a cup of tea. The groceries won't shop themselves. And the bloodwork... ugh. If I see anyone sparkling at the lab I'm totally Team GTFO.