....all while pretending it was Hawaii or some exotic country and completely disregarding the fact that it is, in fact, pretty exotic here. I mean, if I had the time I would go dive the fuck out of the Great Barrier Reef.
I had a wild night out on Friday and danced off a million kilo joules amongst backpackers and desperate locals. It had almost slipped my mind why it is that backpackers get laid easier than seemingly any other human being but that night was a good one to refresh my memory. We couldn't even get into the door of the club of our choice without being chatted up, next up was the door man sparing us from paying cover charge because of our appearance (that one time sexism saved me ten dollars), and don't even get me started on all the sad motherfuckers waiting at the bar. It is in those situations that a men-repel system is to be enforced when a group of married women just want to have a dance without being the victims of unsolicited thrust-attacks. I can dedicate a whole post to this repel-system but let's just say crazy facial expressions and "I am married" combined with ghetto-like wedding ring dangling is a good start. IN YO FACE, CREEPER!
Six hours later I found myself at work, talking about how it is completely unacceptable to arrive at work hungover.
Tonight is my last night in this beautiful town and I will most likely be back in less than a fortnight. I think it is a worthy outro to a six-day business trip to sit at the beach and eat ice cream so that's exactly where you'll find me. At the beach. Eating ice cream. Repelling men like a boss.
