so it's been a while since i've written. It's been even longer since i last worked.
A few days ago i got a call really early in the morning telling me about a job interview the next day and it looked really good and she said she would call me. When she didn't call I called her, only to find that my interview was canceled, which is a shame cause it would have been a great job- working in a nursury, dealing with trees, little baby trees. Maybe she will call me, but with my experience in job searching over here i have learned that when they say they will call you back they will NOT call you back.
There was one funny story that i wanted to write down before I forget. It was doing the broccoli planting. I hope i didn't write it down in here already... It was a conversation we were having at lunch. Here are the characters in this diologue. It should be said that it is really difficult to judge the age of the tasmanians. They always appear alot older than they actually are, perhaps because im used to people who don't spend as much time in the sun, and also because the sun is much stronger down here. But anyways, back to my cast of characters:
A: The boss lady,
B: Another lady, im guessing 30ish,
C: A younger guy, perhaps 27 or something?
ME: the guy writing this, a Canadian, while all other characters are local tasmanians.
This is a really real conversation. It may not be 100% accurate but im trying to type it like how it was.
Here is the scenario: Boss lady cuts herself.
A: yeah, i just cut meself, it's bleedin' pretty bad, but i've worked with me finger broken before and that was worse than this. Havin' a broken finga is much worse then workin' with a cut finga.
C: I've broken nearly every one of me fingers!
B: I've broken this finger, look at that, it doesn't even bend anymore, and it's got this bump now, look at that!
A: I've got the same thing here on this one, me pointer finga.
C: Fingers are nothin'. I've broken me arm twice, and me leg and a couple ribs in a bikin' accident.
B: I've broken so many bones! (she lists the bones she has broken)
A: yeah i was pretty rough with me brotha, back when we was kids. Surprized we didn't kill each otha! When'e was three i'd put in a tire and roll it down the hill this steep. (shows an angle with her arm, about 45 degrees)
ME: whoa...
B: Me brotha got stabbed 23 times and survived. that was a hellofa night for him, it was.
C: That's nothin' i've been stabbed 3 times! once in me side when i was pregnant, and once in me head!
ME: That's pretty crazy, was your baby alright?
C: Yeah, he's alright. I fackin' hated the bastard that did it. The cunt died a few years ago, fackin' drowned when he was pissed, and boy was i glad!
There was more to that conversation, but yeah, i think i got the jist of it down in that diologue. I was wondering how she could survive getting stabbed IN THE HEAD. The moral of the story is: Tasmanians are tough. Through and through. It's true that not all tasmanians are like the ones i've just described but alot of them are, the ones who grew up in the small towns and on the farms.
I don't really have much time to write today. I've spent alot of time looking up hilarious photos of people, or , to be more specific, photos of people with hilarious people in the background.. For anyone curious, my photo site is below, and i'll upload all the hilarious results of my image searching:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/_psm/sets/
