20 Legit Reasons People Voted for the LNP Probably

If you read my facebook feed, it’s clear that no one voted for the Coalition.

And yet here we are.

So, we must ask ourselves, if none of the diverse and interesting people I connect with on the internet voted for the LNP, who did? And more importantly, what were their reasons? I therefore present to you, 20 legitimate reasons why someone might have voted for Tony Abbott and his crew.

1.     They thought “LNP” stood for Loud Newts Party, and are now expecting some raucous lizards to be taking office.

2.     They completely misunderstood the voting process, and put an “I” not a “1” next to an LNP candidate. The “I”, in their mind, denoted the biggest Idiot on the ballot.

3.     They thought “the boats” was slang for really annoying hold music.

4.     They thought the Labo(u)r Party was founded on the idea that all people should be in childbirth all of the time.

5.     They thought the Greens are only for people who are literally green.

6.     They though PUP was an actual dog, and then, for some reason thought a person would be better at governing than an animal (wrong).

7.     They thought gay marriage was about happiness in marriages, and became concerned that their marriage wouldn’t pass the “happiness test” and that it would be deemed null and void.

8.     They ate the pencil while voting, and the graphite they subsequently coughed up accidentally formed a perfect 1 in the LNP box.

9.     Having been raised in the bush by wild pigs, they are afraid of literally all things, but especially women, who smell funny, and brown people, who look slightly different to other people.

10. They were hypnotised by a stage hypnotist once, to respond to their trigger phrase, “jobs and cuts” by writing a 1 next to LNP candidates. It was an extremely specific hypnotism show in the late 70s and it was art man, ART.

11. Having been in a coma for the last 7 years, they woke up on Election Day, saw Kevin Rudd’s face on TV and immediately assumed he was the man who put them in a coma all those years ago.

12. Having been in a coma for the last 60 years, they woke up on Election Day and relied on their convictions and values to guide them when voting.

13. They donkey voted. By that I mean they are an actual donkey with no understand of federal politics. Who let that donkey in here? Is that even allowed?

"hahaha voting!"

14. They think the PNG solution is a policy whereby we’ll all be given a free holiday to Papua New Guinea every year, I hear it’s lovely there… if you’re a tourist.

15. They consume only Murdoch run newspapers. Literally. I mean that they eat them, imbuing themselves with the power of the media and also its one-sided views.

16. They think the Australian economy is in dire straights for some reason.

17. They really hate reasonable class sizes, and want their children to have to hang from the ceiling in a 50-student class. That’s character building, that is.

18. They are one of Rupert Murdoch’s many robots, sent to do his bidding (his bidding is voting LNP, in case that wasn’t clear).

19. In a stunning display of their own ignorance, they thought to do otherwise would be to throw away their vote.

20. They are this lady: 

Top Ten Ways to not Die of Heat this Summer

So unless you’ve been living in an ice-cave for the last few weeks, you know Australia has been experiencing the hottest summer like… ever. Even if you are currently overseas, you’ve heard about it through constant facebook updates like these:

“just walked outside, worst mistake of my life”

“Something smells good. I think my neighbours are cooking something… or it might just be me.”

“Send help”

“omg”

Etc.

Dalby has been having consistently hot days, usually above 35 degrees, with little to no relief overnight. The water coming out of our taps is hot, my car is an oven on wheels now, things are just spontaneously catching fire. 

like that time the sky was on fire

The hottest day we’ve had so far reached 41, it was 37 yesterday. I know, I know, people who live out west are scoffing at that, with their 48-degree weeks. For goodness sake, SYDNEY has had it hotter recently, but I think we can all agree that hot is hot and once it gets above a certain temperature, everything else is gravy. Disgustingly hot, absolutely gross gravy.

So here are my top 10 tips for keeping cool this summer:

10.            Step 1, empty fridge, step 2, get in fridge, step 3, close door.

9.              Create a shirt made from icepacks. For best results, make three and use on a rotating roster.

8.              Wet the bottom of your feet before bed. My feet are always the hottest part of me (bow chicka wow wow) and when it’s so damn hot I can’t sleep, it helps if I wet the soles and put the fan on really high. Is this weird? Is hot feet not a thing? Nothing to see here -move along.

7.              Come visit me in Dalby. I have air-conditioning in my lounge room. Sure, it’s a long drive just for air-conditioning but you’re getting me as well. What a bargain.

6.              Have an ice bath. Not just a trend amongst the medical profession in Victorian England, ice baths are now a fashionable way to stay cool whilst treating maladies such as “crooked backs”,  “sickly dispositions” and “tuberculosis”.

5.              Befriend a person with a pool. You may have to perform sexual favours but isn’t it worth it? Isn’t it?

4.              Move to England. Didn’t you see they had snow the other day? They also think 28 degrees is a heat wave. Bless.

3.              Get a cushy office job with air-conditioning. Most dedicated employee ever.

2.              Don’t do anything. Ever. Never leave the house. It’s better this way. What’s outside anyway? Only death. Not worth it.

1.              Be this guy:

Source

Identification Please

Totes relevant... read on.

For some reason, I started thinking about who I am today. I had this rather profound thought while waiting for a burger at The Northside Convenience and Take Away shop (home of Dalby’s best burger). Who am I? Or more specifically, how do I identify? With what groups am I most strongly linked?

Some people first and foremost identify with their nationality. Which I understand; being Australian is great, and I really love living in this country. But I don’t think I’m particularly patriotic, I don’t think we’re *better* than others or that we should keep our stuff and our culture all for ourselves. I’m certainly not opposed to our culture changing or becoming “less Australian” and I couldn’t give a shit about any of our sporting teams.

Others feel strongly about their gender. Men are real men, women are real women and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri are real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri (with compliments to Mr Adams). Whereas I see my femaleness as a fact, not a lifestyle. It’s just a thing. A thing that I’m ambivalent towards. I don’t particularly love being a lady or doing “lady’s things” but I have no desire to grow an extra appendage and start loving aforementioned sports teams and other such “man things”. I’m a girl, but it doesn’t define me.

I think probably I most strongly identify with being Gen Y, which is a weird thing to say I guess, given that it’s often thrown about like a dirty word. But I like being young and I like being into technology and I like knowing about new things and trying new things pretty much just because they are new. I am not ashamed by my addiction to social media or my inability to do anything without telling as many people as possible about it. These are things I am, actually, proud of.

I also identify strongly as a nerd. I like things (books, movies, shows etc), and lots of those things are considered nerdy. But more than that my like of those things isn’t a passing, “oh yes I saw that it was good”, it’s more like “OMG DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEW EPISODE SEND HELP IT WAS THE BEST THING OF MY LIFE I’M GOING TO WATCH IT AGAIN”. So yeah, I’m a nerd. It’s a good thing to be.

I guess I feel like I’m floundering a bit at the moment, because while it’s great to be a Gen Y nerd, I feel like I have a lot more in me; a lot more things I could be.

I care about the fact that our world is still filled with bad things like slavery, poverty and disease. I don’t like how we farm animals, or how we treat our environment. I’d like to do things about these things, I’d like to identify as the kind of person who takes action in the face of such things.

I’d like to identify as a writer, I’d like to be brave and stop making excuses and discipline myself to write.

I’d like it if the job I did was something I could identify as, and be proud of. And I’m hoping that as I embark on a new adventure of studying next year that “primary school teacher” can be a thing that skyrockets itself to somewhere near the top of the “things I identify as” list.

I want to be the kind of person who gardens, who keeps animals, who writes, who eats healthily, whose actions make a difference, who is conscious of the environment and the world, who has fun, who makes people laugh, who loves.

I did some gardening today. So I’m on my way. 

Country/Girl: Roadtrippin

The thing about living in the country is that pretty much any drive further than Woolworths can be considered a roadtrip. Literally 4 minutes out of the centre of town you hit sorghum fields and windmills, cows that stare at you and potholes that could swallow you whole.

I’m still 2 weeks off actually living in Dalby, but I was there for the weekend visiting Boyfriend, and we went on a bit of a roadtrip for our friend Tom’s 21^st Birthday. That is to say, we went to go see Tom for his birthday, we didn’t just drive into the countryside in celebration of his birth or anything.

It wasn’t *that* far, but upon reflection, except for one big day of driving in New Zealand once, I think it’s the furthest I’ve ever driven in one day. I think I’d convinced myself it was going to be easy, given that I now regularly drive the 2 hours, 40 to Dalby. I thought, 4 hours to the coast? Pfft, easy! Well…. It wasn’t excruciatingly difficult, but my bum did go numb and by the time I got there I felt moderately incapable of speech.

Fun things about our roadtrip:

I discovered what a windmill is. No, that makes me sound like an idiot. I KNOW what a windmill is, I’d just never thought about the word wind… mill… it’s a mill… driven by wind. DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M AN IDIOT. I bet a bunch of you had never thought of that either. I like words that do that to you. SHUT UP.

I didn’t kill any birds.

I did scream a lot whenever we came near a bird until Boyfriend freaked out and asked me to stop…. I still did it anyway.

I bought petrol in a tiny town called Cooyar. The pump didn’t have an electronic dial, just the kind with the numbers that flip down like an old clock. It was awesome.

Blackbutt. It doesn’t matter if you’re both adults and one of you is a teacher and everything, that shit is still funny.

The creepy little shop in Kilcoy makes REALLY good food.

Boyfriend’s students are literally everywhere. Even when we’re in some random town hours away from school. They. Are. There.

They are always watching.

No one knows how to pronounce the D’aguilar highway, but we have started calling it “The D’ag”.

Despite both being wordsmiths who love language, hours of driving will make us both stumble when trying to play word games.

Word games are still a good way to avoid napping while driving.

We should have been able to think of a lot more Australian towns starting with D.

Our own town SHOULD have been the first town we thought of.

This is the route we took:

We did it twice, obviously.

And this is the route I take to Dalby… I also did it twice.

So over 4 days I drove for about 13 hours. Effort! 

Lizzyish has Opinions: Why I Love Kevin Rudd

Let me begin by saying, I’m not a massive politics nerd, I’m not even 100% sure how our government system works. I mean I’m not completely uneducated on the topic, though that’s only due my own research. (Thanks school, for teaching me all the important stuff like algebra and poetry analysis, but not how voting works or how the government is run). I know enough to keep up with most political conversations I hear, and to enjoy them, and to make up my own mind about voting.

Importantly, I know that we don’t vote for a leader, we vote for a party.

Or rather, we vote for local members, who become government if they are in the majority (or even if they’re not) and through a series of events I don’t care to understand, involving the rather silly sounding word, ‘caucus’ choose a leader.

I know that the policies of the ALP haven’t really changed much between leaders, so, as a generally left leaning Labor voter, why do I kind of wish Kevin Rudd was still Prime Minister?

Because I like him, is the rather childish answer.

The Kevin07 campaign happened in the lead up to my first federal election. The first time I voted was for the Labor party, almost solely because of Kevin Rudd. My whole teen years had been dominated by John Howard, to the point where the name “Howard” was completely synonymous with the words “Prime Minister”. Sure, I remembered Keating, but the politics of my teens were refugees and the children overboard saga, GST and “unchain your heart”, Work Choices, and eyebrows. Kevin Rudd represented change, hope and a whole lot less facial hair.

PMKevin was well spoken and clever, he was easy to respect, in the way a dad is easy to respect. He was funny, again in a kind of lame dad way, but still. He went on Good News Week and Rove, he wasn’t afraid to say stupid shit about sauce bottles. He laughed off that time he picked his nose during Parliament. He went to that strip club that time. He got emotional on camera. His twitter stream was 50% informative, 50% about funny shit that happened to him in the course of being a Prime Minister. In short, he was likeable.

His ‘proud of the fact that’ speech, while repetitive to the point of embarrassment, was one of the best political speeches I’ve ever heard from an Australian pollie. Simply because it was honest, and gracious, and unlike anything you’d ever hear from any one else.

The day Kevin Rudd stopped being Prime Minister was simultaneously exciting and depressing for me. Exciting because of twitter, depressing because of Julia. Julia Gillard is so unlikeable, especially compared to Rudd. She’s cold, reserved and has an irritating voice. I bet if she picked her nose in parliament she would blame it on Tony Abbott.

I don’t have a lot to say about Rudd’s resignation as Foreign Minister today. I think it was inevitable, and about as graceful as possible in the circumstances. I do have this to say though: Hey Labor party members talking about disloyalty? What side were you on in June 2010 ha? And Wayne Swan? Kevin could fucking kick your ass in hand-to-hand combat. He would roll up those sleeves, take of those glasses and smash you into the fucking ground, you weedy bastard. Disloyalty, honestly, is that really the best word you can think of to discredit him?

I KNOW we’re meant to care about their politics, but if we’re being ruled by a party, and not by a leader, then why wouldn’t you want a funny, down-to-earth, sauce bottle shaking, twitter-savvy dad as that leader? That’s all I’m saying.

33 Week Challenge Week 21: Do a handstand!

So I was that gangly child. You know the one? With limbs too long for their body and hair so whispy and blonde sometimes they looked bald? I tried lots of sports at school. I’m Australian, I never even once considered not doing sport – not until I was about 16 anyway. It’s just what you do. Even though I was shit at every sport I ever tried, I still did it. Netball, basketball, tennis, volleyball, teeball… and then there’s all the ones you did for P.E like touch football and hockey and LACROSSE for goodness sake. Shit. At. All. Of. Them. I remember a fateful P.E class where we did gymnastics. The horror! Flipping! Jumping! Tumbling! Other people seemed to be getting it; I was just sort of flopping about like a sea creature on the sand. Except the sand was a big blue mat.

Karate has changed a lot of things for me, as has running. I now know that I can touch my toes (sort of) and kick the air and not hyperventilate if I have to run for the bus. But I still feel like that gangly 11 year old. Especially because there is a mirror in the karate dojo. There it is, my too long, weirdly bendy skinny frame, draped in a white uniform, flailing and making me think words I probably shouldn’t, like retarded and spastic. Does it make it ok if I’m calling myself those names? Probably not. God my inner monologue is so politically incorrect.

Anyway, the whole point of these challenges is to try things that are challenging. So I decided to try and teach myself how to do handstands. That’s right, that gangly little child who couldn’t even do a tumble in year 8 P.E decided to try to stand on her own hands. What now?

It started with a lot of jumping late one night, and also a lot of groaning and holding my knee after landing on it. But then suddenly one of those jumps felt a lot more handstandy. So I kept practicing. I fell over again. I gave up. I went to Newcastle and thought no more about it.

Both my housemates are amazing at things like this. They have both been dancers, and Samara coaches rhythmic gymnastics (and is amazing at it too). So I asked both of their advice, and showed off what I could do so far. Samara taught me where I should be putting my hands, and how I should be stepping into it. The jumps became even more like handstands, but still not quite. Amy suggested I try one against a wall and then suddenly….

I did a fucking handstand.

There is not much more exhilarating than setting out to do something you think is impossible, only to find you are doing it. Or maybe it was just the actual rush of blood to the head, but it felt great. I did handstands for my housemates. I did a handstand for my rather hungover friend Tim. I did a handstand for Boyfriend in Charleville via the magic of skype. I obnoxiously did handstands at my karate class. I did handstands for my parents and siblings. My 14 year old brother and 8 year old sister were so impressed they asked me to teach them. And now I am expecting a call from my mother any day now wondering why I thought that was a good idea and do I want to come meet them at the hospital?

I got mum to take some photos, she said “you look even more disproportionate upside down”. Which is kind of true. Also I don’t care because I can do mother fucking handstands bitches.

the moment I realised my little shrug thing was not going to stay

it looks like I'm leaning on the wall a lot but I swear I'm not really. Also shut up! You don't know me.

the rather graceful return to earth

My dreams of working on Doctor Who as a stunt person grow ever more achievable! 

Gen Y: a state of being

Ah yes, a young person with too much time on her hands starts a blog, it really is only a matter of time before she starts ranting about the whole Generation Y thing.  Gen Ys kinda arch up at the way we are depicted in the media etc, and it is often justified – we get a really bad wrap for our anti-social and ungrateful ways. However, I am not about to arch up* because I am, quite frankly, both anti-social and ungrateful.

But I am going to argue that Gen Y is not an age bracket, or even a generation at all – but a state of being. How many older people (men often) do you know who have an iPhone and know all the lingo and play video games etc etc etc? Like at least 4 right? If everyone knows at least 2 that’s actually quite a significant percentage of the population acting like Gen Y-ers who aren’t Gen Y-ers at all.

And, on the other hand, I know a bunch of well-dressed, well-spoken, organised, punctual, grateful, respectful and generally perfect humans who are 18-25 years old. Can we really call these people Gen Y? Sure, they were born in the 15 or so years after the Gen Xers all grew up, but they don’t fit any of the other defining characteristics. They fail at being Gen Y, which should technically make them win at life in the eyes of older people. It never seems to redeem them though; those poor fucks get lumped in with the rest of us despite their good personal hygiene and lack of twitter accounts.

So, dear reader – you might be asking yourself now, ‘shit, am I Gen Y or not?’ This seems like a pretty stupid thing to be asking yourself, given that you are currently reading a blog and probably simultaneously watching a Youtube video, illegally downloading songs and eating nutella from the jar. But anyway, there is a sure fire way to test your Gen Y status. I speak from absolute experience on this:

Ask yourself, have you ever been lying in bed at night in a location (probably a fabulous holiday location) with little reception and been so desperate for contact with the outside world (be it text, tweet or status) but too lazy to get up that you’ve sleepily held the phone high above your head, arm fully extended, and then DROPPED IT ON YOUR FACE? Well have you?

That is the moment dear friends, when you must concede that no matter how old or socially adequate you are, you do in fact belong to that technophilic, whiney, disrespectful cohort known as Gen Y. Welcome, we’re looking for people to start a social netball team.

*Except to say that it is almost predominantly members of Generation Y (and little old ladies) who consistently thank the driver when they get off the bus. I’m just sayin’…