New Birthday Wish List

Dear H,

Since moving from Perth, I've added a few alternative options to my birthday wish list.  While I appreciate the caring motivation behind the desire to get me rec specs, I would much prefer something else.  For years, I've wanted a puppy, but now that we live in the United Kingdom, I would also take a hairy coo:

More specifically, I would love a baby hairy coo:

I still have an outstanding desire for a mercenary, but given our current location, I would happily accept a butler.  One that has good connections to get us into castles and distilleries in the winter season and who is an expert at pouring tea would be preferred.  I know just the person if you can persuade him to come work for us.  I would also greatly appreciate it if the butler was able to make the meager heating systems here warm our house.  For some reason British people think that heating a piece of metal in the corner of a room will warm a whole house, trust me it doesn't.

While they may fail on the radiator front, Brits definitely get an A+ for their seemingly widespread use of heated towel racks.  This falls into the future birthday category (don't worry, I'll still be turning 26), but I would really love to have heated towel racks in all future homes. 

Don't worry H, I haven't forgotten about you.  For your birthday I'm getting you the top item on your list, a pair of dictator sunglasses.  Putin has them, Gaddafi had them, now you can have them.  Might I suggest that you consider adding a white Toyota Hilux to your birthday wish list to compliment them?

Love,
Anonymous Expat

BYO Rifle, Not Beer

Recent trips taken by friends and colleagues from Perth:

• Drinking and sunbathing in Bali
• Drinking and catching up with friends in Sydney
• Hiking Machu Picchu
• Drinking and clubbing in Hong Kong
• Drinking and sleeping in Bangkok
• Aerial feral hog hunting in Queensland*

*I was going to make a crack that only in Australia would someone take a week of vacation to shoot feral hogs from a helicopter but apparently it's very popular in Texas.  The Texas State Legislature passed 'the pork chopper' bill this spring which makes it legal, as of September 1st, for sport hunters to rent the gunner seat on a helicopter to shoot wild hogs and coyotes.  And apparently bookings for gunner seats are going quickly.  There is a huge amount of enthusiasm in Australia and Texas to temper out of control feral hog populations.  H, let's not move to Texas.  Unless of course my birthday mercenary can ride shotgun while I shoot feral hogs.  Yee haw.

 

Image courtesy of Eric Lewis via http://www.texasmonthly.com/2011-08-01/webextra10.php

Dear Spell Check, I Am Not a Terrorist

Dear spell check,

I may have a mercenary and a white Toyota HiLux on my wish list (and an unhealthy love of The Unit), but that doesn’t mean that I appreciate your auto corrections that pepper my e-mails with the following in place of my name and those of my friends:

• Taliban
• Warlord
• Bullet
• Amen

I’m an American expat in Australia for goodness sake.  Who do you think I’m writing to/about?  I fill my days with Excel spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations.  Just because my extracurricular conversations include helicopters, facilitation payments, various nonsexual ways to employ a hooker, assorted ways one’s wife will find out that one’s rotation isn’t actually six weeks on, two weeks off but 6 weeks on, four weeks off, and how much money one can fit in a money belt for third world travel, it doesn’t mean that I’m totally nuts.  I’m not a jihadist, I just spend too much time in and around the oilfield. 

C is for I'm Not Canadian

Today was the second time this week that I got asked if I am Canadian.  On Monday a colleague said, "I can't quite place your accent, but are you Canadian?"  When I said no, actually I am American, his response was pretty entertaining.  He said, "I couldn't decide if you were Canadian or American but I thought I would cause less offense if I asked you if you were Canadian and I was wrong.  Canadians passionately hate being called American."  I guess he has more Canadian acquaintances than American acquaintances because where I come from, Americans passionately hate being mistaken for our northern neighbors, eht?

Today's Canadian misidentification was a bit nicer or creepy, depending on how you choose to interpret it. While on the phone with a co-worker who I have never met or spoken to before, he interrupted me mid-sentence and in his heavy German accent said, "Pardon me but are you Canadian?  You have a very lovely accent."  When I told him thank you but I'm actually American, he said, "Oh, well you must have a hard time understanding my accent then."  Nein!  Ich verstehe sie perfekt.  Vielen dank.  Apparently Americans have lovely accents but are stupid.

Perhaps H and I should perpetuate the myth that we're Canadian by picking up a gorgeous white Toyota Hilux, complete with Canadian maple leaf bumper sticker.  But only if I get my mercenary to ride shotgun.

K is for Kevlar

Given the current headlines, H decided to use a few minutes of his spare time to look into how his company’s office in Egypt has been handling their employees amidst the protests and clashes all over the country and e-mailed me the below:

Dear Anonymous Expat,

Anonymous Company has evacuated all non-essential employees and families from Egypt.  I however don’t fall under the non-essential umbrella.  

Love,
H

At which point, I wrote back:

Dear H,

If we were living and working in Egypt instead of in Australia, and you had to stay, I would stay with you.  Perhaps a good use of my time would be to join the friends of Zahi Hawass and help guards protect the Cairo Museum and other cultural sights with sticks.

Love,

Anonymous Expat

H’s response?  He attached the below his e-mail.

 and

To which I responded:

Dear H,

I’m sure Anonymous Company would ensure a supply of food and water and provide guards around the office and houses and for transit between the two.  Maybe I could even have my own mercenary?  Oh, how fun would that be?  I want two mercenaries.

Love,

Anonymous Expat

To which H fired back:

Dear Anonymous Expat,

Don’t tell your Mother that, she might have a nervous breakdown.  P.S. They’re called security  consultants. 

Love,

H

But H, how awesome would I look in this, waving my broom outside of King Tut’s tomb?