First Week In The Thick Of It
First week of work without the bosses. And fuck my asshole and call me a cowboy, did our first week test us.
Day one. Woken up at 330am. Someone smashed the driver's window of our work van. Left the GPS and $200 in the ashtray. Stole some apples and my undies off the line. Bless.
Day two. No real hitches except for finding out that the panty apple thieves also stole knives from the butcher and are on an animal-mutilating, pre-serial killer spree. Mad comforting. New accommodation out of town though. Lush accommodation. My own freaking apartment fit for a queen accommodation even.
Day three. Late finish. Drove home in the dark petrified of kamikazee kangaroos. No fatalities with the exception of my nerves.
Day four. Some little fucker stole a prop chair. Another late finish. Another white-knuckled drive home in the dark.
Day five. Even later finish. No real sales. Feeling like a bullshitter selling bullshit instead of a sales girl selling photos. Still no suicidal marsupials. Still loving my beautiful digs.
Day six. Last day. Few sales. Prop chair generously returned by probable prop chair thieves blaming other prop chair thieves for their prop chair thieving. 2hrs lost to a town meeting about the above mentioned animal hating child psychos. Packed up. Had a fight with workmates. Drove 2hrs in silence to Middlemount. Where we all shared a room. Impeccable timing universe.
Day seven. 6hrs squashed in a van. Arrived at Townsville to find an apartment worthy of queenliness for the second time this week. Counted blessings. Enjoyed the aircon, private bathroom, swimming pool and own bedroom. Rejoiced at the Pokemon nearby. Tried to persevere with the disgustingly slow WiFi. Gave up visions of movie piracy career when said WiFi wouldn't play ball. Ate a cheese and spaghetti toasted sandwich. Did my week's worth of laundry like a mother fucking laundry boss with their shit together. Repacked and called it a night.
Day eight. Groceries. Sweated like a priest in a preschool because fuck me is Townsville hot. NZ doesn't know hot. NZ should count itself lucky for it's "hot" because this north Queensland hot is like dryrooting a cactus in hell. 2hr drive to arrive at Lucinda. Where we find a tiny room with a bunk bed for the three of us. How the mighty have fallen. And now we're just killing time waiting for bed, but can't sleep too early as we've gotta be at the ferry terminal by 630am tomorrow morning. Here's hoping Palm Island has a bed that isn't attached to another bed. That's my idea of luxury now. A nonbunkbed.
And now here's a few handy hints for my fellow roadtrippers:
#1
Take dunny paper with you. An oncoming shit doesn't give a shit how far from the next shitter you are. Embrace your inner camping bitch. Shit in nature like the rad couldn't-care-less for proper amenities rockstar that you are.
#2
Pack provisions. Roadhouses and petrol stations want all your money and your firstborns. Stick it to them with a packed lunch and bottle of water. Or wine.
#3
Take cash. Most places have sneaky fucking minimum eftpos spend amounts. Show them who's boss when you pull out a bag of 20 centers and take glee when they're recounting it for the 59th time because you keep interrupting them with your pretty lame-ass tales from the road. They're paid for putting up with miserable cunts like you. In failing that, at least you've given them a work story to bitch/laugh about at the pub on Friday night.
#4
Sunblock. Because sunburn.
#5
Update your GPS. Before leaving. No one likes driving for 6hrs. And no one likes that 6hrs turning into 7hrs because your fucking asshat of a navigational system sent you down some dodgy dirt track in the hopes of your imminent death or loss of bumhole virginity at the hands of some dodgy dirt track hill have eyes fucker.
#6
Don't fight with anyone you're about to be trapped in a small space with. Awkward silences are more awkward when you can feel everyone's rage boners prodding into your mind. Save the fight for your arrival. Or better yet. Bottle it up and instantaneously combust when they least expect it. People really dig that.
And that's a wrap for this week. Stayed tuned for more "Ways Australia Tortures Ruby" stories.
Until next time,
Ruby xx
Day one. Woken up at 330am. Someone smashed the driver's window of our work van. Left the GPS and $200 in the ashtray. Stole some apples and my undies off the line. Bless.
Day two. No real hitches except for finding out that the panty apple thieves also stole knives from the butcher and are on an animal-mutilating, pre-serial killer spree. Mad comforting. New accommodation out of town though. Lush accommodation. My own freaking apartment fit for a queen accommodation even.
Day three. Late finish. Drove home in the dark petrified of kamikazee kangaroos. No fatalities with the exception of my nerves.
Day four. Some little fucker stole a prop chair. Another late finish. Another white-knuckled drive home in the dark.
Day five. Even later finish. No real sales. Feeling like a bullshitter selling bullshit instead of a sales girl selling photos. Still no suicidal marsupials. Still loving my beautiful digs.
Day six. Last day. Few sales. Prop chair generously returned by probable prop chair thieves blaming other prop chair thieves for their prop chair thieving. 2hrs lost to a town meeting about the above mentioned animal hating child psychos. Packed up. Had a fight with workmates. Drove 2hrs in silence to Middlemount. Where we all shared a room. Impeccable timing universe.
Day seven. 6hrs squashed in a van. Arrived at Townsville to find an apartment worthy of queenliness for the second time this week. Counted blessings. Enjoyed the aircon, private bathroom, swimming pool and own bedroom. Rejoiced at the Pokemon nearby. Tried to persevere with the disgustingly slow WiFi. Gave up visions of movie piracy career when said WiFi wouldn't play ball. Ate a cheese and spaghetti toasted sandwich. Did my week's worth of laundry like a mother fucking laundry boss with their shit together. Repacked and called it a night.
Day eight. Groceries. Sweated like a priest in a preschool because fuck me is Townsville hot. NZ doesn't know hot. NZ should count itself lucky for it's "hot" because this north Queensland hot is like dryrooting a cactus in hell. 2hr drive to arrive at Lucinda. Where we find a tiny room with a bunk bed for the three of us. How the mighty have fallen. And now we're just killing time waiting for bed, but can't sleep too early as we've gotta be at the ferry terminal by 630am tomorrow morning. Here's hoping Palm Island has a bed that isn't attached to another bed. That's my idea of luxury now. A nonbunkbed.
And now here's a few handy hints for my fellow roadtrippers:
#1
Take dunny paper with you. An oncoming shit doesn't give a shit how far from the next shitter you are. Embrace your inner camping bitch. Shit in nature like the rad couldn't-care-less for proper amenities rockstar that you are.
#2
Pack provisions. Roadhouses and petrol stations want all your money and your firstborns. Stick it to them with a packed lunch and bottle of water. Or wine.
#3
Take cash. Most places have sneaky fucking minimum eftpos spend amounts. Show them who's boss when you pull out a bag of 20 centers and take glee when they're recounting it for the 59th time because you keep interrupting them with your pretty lame-ass tales from the road. They're paid for putting up with miserable cunts like you. In failing that, at least you've given them a work story to bitch/laugh about at the pub on Friday night.
#4
Sunblock. Because sunburn.
#5
Update your GPS. Before leaving. No one likes driving for 6hrs. And no one likes that 6hrs turning into 7hrs because your fucking asshat of a navigational system sent you down some dodgy dirt track in the hopes of your imminent death or loss of bumhole virginity at the hands of some dodgy dirt track hill have eyes fucker.
#6
Don't fight with anyone you're about to be trapped in a small space with. Awkward silences are more awkward when you can feel everyone's rage boners prodding into your mind. Save the fight for your arrival. Or better yet. Bottle it up and instantaneously combust when they least expect it. People really dig that.
And that's a wrap for this week. Stayed tuned for more "Ways Australia Tortures Ruby" stories.
Until next time,
Ruby xx
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