So I’ll hit the Elsie an’ th’ Beer Store on the way out, eh? I’ll take me a coupla days t’get there, what with scrapin’ the skeeders off the windshield and all. I’ll call when I get to the Soo.
Stone the bloody crows, is not female pis-cyco-gology a bloody universal constant? The bloke keeps his shed clean and shiny as a button. All the tools on the masonite and matching the outline. No dirt on the moleskins, no grease on the stubbies and yet the trouble & strife will nag him shitless about tidying up the mess. Must says that somewhere in the CWA manual.
But try and get them to clean-up their own wardrobe filled clobber and caboodle that hasn’t been worn since you got hitched and didn’t fit even then and up goes the Great Wall of No. For Gawsakes. No, that can’t be your mothers favourite crochet bikini, it’s got the bloody price tag showing where your grannie bought it. CHUCK THE BLOODY THING OUT OR THE SHED STAYS AS IT IS.
Why wouldn’t ya bloody chooks think like you do?
Anyhow, ya tanks probably got a dead possum in it anyway.
Missed the edit window :smack:
Anyway, I’m gunna piss off over to Yackandandah over the weegend to hang out with me’ mate Wayne. He used to be a truckie, mostly the Melbin to Brissie run, so he knows some good little spots along the way. Wayne’s got the Jimmy Dancer now, too many Winnie Blues over the years. But he’s still a good bloke for a yarn.
I don’t want to rough it tooooo much. Things like a dunny would be nice, and I always like to camp near a creek if I can. Gotta be careful camping in the bush though…this time of year is better for the Joe Blakes of course, but there’s still drop bears out there. Little fuckers don’t hibernate, do they?
Wayne told me a story once of some mad buggers he ran across in Coonabarabran. Bunch of Pommies in a Kombi who’d pulled off the road and camped under a huge old Manna Gum. He wandered over to warn them about the dangers, but the Poms thought he was taking the piss and all. No matter how much he tried, the crazy bastards wouldn’t listen so he told 'em to get fucked and went back to his rig.
Just as he was climbing up into the cabin, he heard a blood-curdling scream from their campsite…even now when he tells that story he can’t help pissing himself larfing.
Yeah, I’m gonna miss Wayne when he goes. Who am I gonna bot fags off’ve then??
Moose humpers?
Who invited the moose humpers?
G’worn … git, and remain buggered off.
The great outdoors … humping ya bluey in the V8 with great big bloodstained roo bars. As HG Nelson would say, how far can you bloody go wrong if you got petrol, bait, ammo & ice? Merkins call it survivor, we call it camping.
Gimme a call on my cell, 'cause I gotta go through the Hat and the Peg, and that’ll take some time.
Hell, if you’re hitting the Elsie, ya wanna pick me up a forty-pounder of CC? You know what that costs out here? Jay-zus!
Jeez cobbers why are letting the septics in on our secret strine? Before we know it those tea leaves will be using our strine to flog us coal!
Anyways gotta bugger off and strain the potatoes.
Pssst, they’re not Seppos, they’re people from Canadia…dunno which is worser.
The worst would be those sheep rooters across the ditch.
Google-maps only brings up Didjabringabongalong, so still not sure of destinations yet.
Are there any left? I thought they were all here already.
It is, however, something of an oxymoron, right? 
An anachronism anyway.
nah yer don’t wanna go there - tight as a fishes arse they are and yer’ll end up as dry as a dead dingo’s donga
Better come here to the town of ute onna stick where the ute and grog are worshipped every Oct long weekend. You’ll get crissed as a picket at the Bundy bar then do circle work and burnouts. Tends to piss down that weekend though so don’t forget yer swag and drizabone
Deni?
Deni muster! Jeez grab ya swag, a couple of slabs and for good luck a franger or two!
I’m flat out like a lizard drinkin’, so doubt I’ll get much of anywhere. Plus, it’s pissin’ down now. Even me dog has his drizabone on.
Yer a Mexican, anyway, right? Dunno bout ute on a stick, sorry, but I’ll bow to the grog any time. I’m only a transplanted Yank, don’t get me Strine dictionary till next week!
Thanks fer the invite, though. Need to pop round the grog shop tonight, I’m reminded.
Besides, getting maggotted is good, but without Lamingtons, no fun atall.
A-hem
If yer gonna get a two-four from TBay, its gotta be Crystal, eh?
And, Muffin isn’t the only Tbayer here, yanoo.
Jess sayin’. An I will bring Persians, too, but not the kind who speak Farsi. The honkin cinnamon buns (fried) with pink icing that will rot yer teeth, sure as you live.