A Basic Guide to Aussie Life...

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KitEKats4Eva!

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Well, it IS the national pastime!!!
 

kiwideus

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HAHA you could say that again sarah! Do you guys have saveloys? i hate those things!
 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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?? Nope never heard of them. Please explain?
 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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LOL! Yes - and we are getting plastic cups, too, for our party tomorrow night. We are also going to leave the big green wheely bin somewhere where EVERYONE can see it so that they at least make a semblance of an effort to put their empties in it - nothing like trying to minimise the clean-up effort for the following day...lol
 

pandybear

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we use plastic cups too and we always have the green wheelie bin where everyone can find it, for some reason, the later it gets, the less people actually use it and the more guys use my fence as a lavatory...or dunny
 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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Yes - in fact, I sometimes go to Bunnings purely for the sausage sizzle. You can't really go past them.

Although Bunnings in itself is just way too cool. I could go nuts in there if I had lots of money!!
 

pandybear

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they are pretty awesome, i love bunnings too, i'm going there next weekend to start buying stuff for my kitty condo.

sigh, shopping and breakfast in one place, damn i love Australia...not to mention the raffles bunnings have all the time, i can never say no to those
 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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And here's some more I just found...

YOU KNOW YOU'RE FROM AUSTRALIA WHEN...

Your next door neighbours can be from Tunisia, Israel, Indonesia, Japan, Zimbabwe, Iraq, Brazil, Spain, Malaysia...

You don't actually use the words 'sheila' or 'shrimp'.

You sleep with Aeroguard on.

You're wearing a cap emblazoned with 'Get A Dog Up Ya.'

You feel obliged to spread salty black stuff that looks like congealed motor oil on bread and actually grow to like it.

You actively dislike Americans, but watch their TV, eat their food and worship their idols.

You think Tall Poppy Syndrome is a national condition.

Democracy means the freedom to draw caricatures of John Howard.

Your idea of a lethal weapon is a slug gun.

The closest you ever got to going overseas was your packet of 5 Days In Rio grundies.

A posh meal = an all-you-can-eat buffet.

The term "musical instrument" also extends to wobbly bits of ply-wood, hand saws, gum leafs and combs.

Your most offensive curse also doubles as an exclamation of awe or amazement, like, "fark orf!"

All of your internationally famous people don't live here.

You think footballers dressing up in drag on TV is funny (but your son being gay isn't).

You relish test cricket - the longest, slowest game in sport (and that's not even counting the replays). After all, what else gives you an excuse to sit on your arse for five days, watch TV and sink piss with your mates?

You don't drink Fosters, but you let the world think you do.

The only thing better than beating the Pohms at ANY sport is giving them sh*t for it.

You love, adore and admire a particular team/sportstar/actor on a winning streak - until they lose. Then they're just crap and 'past it.'

You can compress several words into one - ie 'g'day', 'd'reckn?' This allows for more space for profanities.

You favour either Holden or Ford - or a souped-up WRX with new kit and a bootful of subwoofer.

Driving down the main street/beach road playing bad techno is your idea of a perfect Saturday night / Sunday arvo. (If you're Greek Australian - and that was my addition lol)

You make kooky films, sometimes about wayward road trips (across the outback preferably). Quite a few are crap.

You know all the words to Khe Sahn but not the national anthem.

Your nickname ends in 'a' or 'o'.

You have a customised stubby holder.

Your soap stars become pop singers and move to the UK.

You've ever used the words - grouse, tops, ripper, choice, sick, rad, exo, ace, wicked, ballistic - to mean good. And then you place 'bloody' in front of it when you really mean it.

Your cooking apron has plastic breasts on it.

The "Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi oi oi!" chant has been a religious experience in the past.

The blokes at the local gym think your weight training is an opportunity to ask you out on a date.

The big national sporting events are men-only.

Your politicians believe than sticking the prefix 'un' in front of your nationality is an effective way of making you sit down and shut up.

Our mantras are 'fair go for all', 'mateship' and 'little Aussie battler' - but we still publicly condemn those with different viewpoints to us.

The barbeque is a male-dominated arena. And the women do the salads.

'Fair go for all' excludes indigenous people.

An eight-hour trip to go camping for the weekend isn't out of the question or excessive.

You take pride in living in a tolerant multicultural society but firmly believe that all Poms and Kiwis are fair game.

You insist on asking every celebrity who steps of an aircraft what they think of Australia. If the response is not overwhelmingly positive, they should be subjected to immediate public ridicule.

The private lives of footy and cricket players become more important than local and national news stories.

Slick pick-up lines like 'Wanna shag?' and 'Carn, show us yer tits' can constitute male-to-female conversation.

You say 'no worries' quite often, whether you realise it or not.

You realise you have no Bill of Rights.

The first thing guaranteed to get eaten at parties is fairy bread.

So that's the special ingredients that make up an Aussie - whatever your taste.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Australia.
 

pandybear

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LOL

Your idea of a lethal weapon is a slug gun.

my husband has a spud-gun


A posh meal = an all-you-can-eat buffet.

ewwwww, i hate those places, but i know many aussies who see that as a good restaurant


The barbeque is a male-dominated arena. And the women do the salads.

That is so true! and the funny thing is, no-one ever questions this, it's just how it's always been and the men always congregate around the BBQ, have a beer and a chat while the women do the salads, sip wine and gossip


An eight-hour trip to go camping for the weekend isn't out of the question or excessive.

OMG! we do that all the time, sometimes the drive it longer
 

pandybear

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How tough are aussie men?



Now - the scene is set, a dark night, cold wind blowing, campfire flickering, stars twinkling in the dark sky. Three hang-glider pilots sitting by the campfire, one from Orstralia, one from Seeth Ifrika and one from New Zulland. Each embroiled in the bravado for which they are famous. The night of tales begins.

Kiven the Kiwi says. "I must be the meanest. toughest, heng glider there es. Why, jist the ither day I linded in a field and scared a crocodeale, who came out of the swamp and ate sux min who were standen close by. I grabbed the crocodeale and wristeled him to du ground and killed him with by beer hends."

Hansie from Seeth Ifrika who typically can't stand to be betterd said, "Well you guys. I lended orfter a 200 mile flight in my heng glider on a tiny trail, and a Nambibian snike slid out from under a rock and made a move on me. I grebbed de borsted wid me bare hinds and beet it's hed off ind then sucked the poison from it's body down in one gulp. End I'm still here today."

Meanwhile Bazza the Aussies remained silent, slowly poking the fire with his p**is.


 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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Hopefully he'll love these too, then. Ahhhh backyard (or driveway) cricket - memories!!

STANDARD BACKYARD CRICKET RULES

Can't Get Out First Ball : Curious rule introduced to give the token unco ******* a reprieve. Smart-arse batsmen use it to hone their reverse sweep - which becomes interesting when smart-arse bowlers use it to hone their beamer.

Caught Behind : Since no-one has the desire or the reflexes to stand in the slips cordon, an edge onto the back fence constitutes instant dismissal. Has signalled the death of the late cut.

One Hand, One Bounce : This popular innovation (When a fielder can dismiss a batsman by catching the ball in one hand on the first bounce)is essential to the very fabric of the sport. Importantly, it means a game can be organised with a minimum of players. More importantly, it means you don't have to put your beer down.

No LBW : When no umpires are available (or trustworthy), the only option is to can the LBW rule altogether, ensuring cagey batsmen shuffle across the crease as if test driving a Zimmer frame.

Six And Out (Then Fetch It) : Introduced to combat space and energy restrictions. It's rumoured to have been initiated by a hapless bowler living alongside a pack of Rottweilers.

ESSENTIAL ITEMS -

Esky : Strategically placed at the bowler's end, the esky is the shrine, the fuel, the Richie Benaud of backyard cricket - because it holds the beer.

Balls : A minimum of 3 tennis balls is advised, as there's always some pissed smart-arse who delights in tonking them over the fence. Advanced exponents use electrical tape around half the ball to give it more swing than Austin Powers.

Dog : Preferable of Kelpie or Heeler extraction, so it can field every ball, including those that dissapear under the house or thorny bushes. The downside is that they produce more slobber than a 14 year old male Penthouse reader. The upside is the dog will sleep for 3 days straight afterwards.

Rubbish Bin : It would be nice to think you can clean up your own mess, but in reality the bin makes a perfect set of stumps.

Bat : Boasting multiple scratches and dents, and no grip left on the handle, it's usually of 1980's vintage, with a fake signature of Allan Border or Merv Hughes providing added backyard cult status.

CODE OF ETHICS -

Stumps : The game draws to a close when,
a) your pissed host finally cooks the snags after the barbie has run out of gas,
b) Macca hits the last ball onto the road and it dissapears down the drain, or
c) your girlfriend cracks the sh*ts and wants to go home because you "become a *******" when you hang around with your mates.

Flower Damage : Any respectful male will cringe and help hide the fact that you have just topped your girlfriend's petunias. Somehow, the universal threat of a week-long drought bonds the male species.

Spilt Beer : Ideally, the offending batsman should apologise profusely and offer to replace the vanquished stubbie. Fat Chance. The feat prompts loads of laughter, and the usually triumphant "Get me one while you're at it!"

No Running Between Wickets : Every backyard cricket specialist should know this phrase, "The words fun and run don't go together." Just ask Arjuna Ranatunga. Besides, how on earth are you supposed to run in thongs?

Courtesy Call : Always invite the chicks to have a bat. They usually say no, but on the odd occasion, they do take a grip of the willow. You can bowl a couple of dollies to her so she can hit before ending this freakish sideshow with a yorker. Most chicks hold a bat as if they're chopping wood. And they can't handle yorkers.
 

pandybear

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Hopefully he'll love these too, then. Ahhhh backyard (or driveway) cricket - memories!!
i just emailed it to him


we used to play backyard cricket and dad used to always have a beer in his hand, this is another good bbq game, i always get hit by the ball though so iv'e stuck to making salads and getting drunk on wine recently, oh and teasing the men when they stuff up their game, that is garanteed to get me in trouble but is worth it
 
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KitEKats4Eva!

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I was the one who was always so anxious to prove myself to my big brothers (only girl in the family) that I would hit it for a whopping six, get out and then cry cos I thought they were being men!!
 

pandybear

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i'm the only girl too, i have two brothers, i used to try to beat them but sfter i got hit in the nose i kind of chickened out
 

fwan

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thats true about the sausage sizzles, i miss them also

THe sausages here IMO arent as good as the aussies!

When we were in sicily last month, my bf couldnt understand why i put our keys in his shoes
 

pandybear

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thats true about the sausage sizzles, i miss them also
THe sausages here IMO arent as good as the aussies!

When we were in sicily last month, my bf couldnt understand why i put our keys in his shoes
see, your still an Aussie at heart and those aussie snags will taste so much better when you get back
 
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