Thank you, Steve Nootenboom

A week and a half since my last teaser of a post re the job. Hmm. Didn't mean to go so long to follow up. Well. Let's do that. The job.

As you're all steadfastly loyal readers of this blog (surely!), you know all about my travails of the past several months: Lost my job. Couldn't find new job. Found pseudo job. Almost lost all hope. And now, I've got a real job! One that pays!!

To fully appreciate how we got here -- well, more just to appreciate the title of this post -- let's go back to September 1995. Yeah -- nearly 14 years ago. My freshman high school class had a retreat to some camp a few hours outside of LA. To be honest, I can't even remember where it was. Big Bear? Lake Arrowhead? Maybe one of those. But what I do remember, what left an indelible impression on my young mind, was that Steve Nootenboom came to speak to our class.

Nootenboom was a motivational speaker, and he fit the Matt Foley-esque mold* of motivational speakers in every way possible: He was exuberant. He was passionate. He was verbose, going on (and on and on) much longer than any of us (teachers included) cared for. He desperately wanted to connect with us. And connect with us he did, probably more so than he could ever realize. In fact, he said one thing in particular that, for whatever reason, has always stuck with me: If you want to get a job, if you want to break into a new field, if you want to try something different, you have to offer to work for free.

*Actually, that's not a bad comparison. Because when I think of Nootenboom after all these years, I think of a skinny version of Chris Farley's Matt Foley. Honestly. Yeah, I'll allow for the very real possibility that time has completely warped the image of him in my head. But let's go with that image.

Accepting the "offer" for the pseudo job the other month, this very thought crossed my mind. I can't say it's why I took the job, but maybe a week or two into it, the connection occurred to me. And I thought just how ironic it would be if I actually got a job out of working for free.

Working with FG, one of the clients for LV (the website development firm I've been working for),* I formed a rapport with the head guy. And in a meeting a few weeks ago, he casually mentioned that he was looking for someone to head up the marketing efforts for the new site we were putting together. It sounded interesting and something that I could be good at, so I offered up my services. He responded enthusiastically, and we scheduled an interview.

*For the sake of retaining my anonymity on the World Wide Internets -- and I have a variety of reasons for doing so at this stage -- I'm not gonna refer to these businesses by their full name. The client will be FG. The website development firm will be LV. These are actual acronyms.

Since last October, I've been on more interviews than I care to recall. Some were awkward, some were intense, some were friendly, but all were relatively formal. My interview with FG was over dim sum.* My future boss and I talked. Some of the discussion touched on my past experiences, some of it touched on ideas I had for the company, a lot of it was just pleasant chit chat. We had some good food. I tried chicken feet for the first time, which were really good, although with so many bones, quite a chore to eat.

*Called "yum cha" in Australia. No idea why there are different names. If someone wants to look it up, please feel free to let me know.

Lunch ended with a job offer: Spend the next several weeks developing and starting to implement a marketing plan for the company's new online business, and see where we go from there.

After all the uncertainty, after all the stress, that's all it took. I'm still shocked by how quickly and simply it all went down. So one more time, I say to Steve Nootenboom: thank you!

Throwin' some quick toss Kleinballs

The original idea behind the Kleinballs was to give you some quick, punchy thoughts on a variety of disparate topics. Me being me, of course, I've recently gotten a bit verbose with some of them. Not today, however, because I gots things going on! And I need to get some of them off my chest.

A FREAKING JOB!!! ONE THAT FREAKING PAYS!!! I GOTS ME ONE OF THEM!!!!

I ate chicken feet on Tuesday. A laborious chore to consume, with bones everywhere, but well worth the effort. Surprisingly moist and tender.

It's been comfortably over a decade now, but his words have always lived with me. And now they've paid off. So to Steve Nootenboom, I say THANK YOU.

Amazingly, the three above items are all connected. Some of you may be able to find the link between two of them. But how are all three intertwined? I'll fill in the blanks, and give more info on this job (that pays!), next week.

Current Lakers score: 88-60, with 9:15 to go. My lord, if they win the finals, that would be the ultimate icing on a week that's already been stupendous. (Oh, wait, I forgot: the NBA Finals go on for three months. Never mind.)

Needing to renew by visa but not knowing my future job situation, I booked a one-way ticket to Auckland the other week, for July 7. And now that I have a job (that pays!), I'm gonna make it a quick trip, and have booked a return flight for July 12. No idea what I'll be doing there yet. Maybe this will bring another venture into the wide world of travel books? I'll let you know when I know.

Congrats to Randy Johnson on win number 300. Now, to all those who think that we'll never again see a pitcher make it to that milestone: J-Poz has his rebuttal, and as always, it makes far too much sense.

The reason for my rushed post today? We gots a threeeeeeeee-daaaaayyyyy weeeeeeekennnnnddd coming up for the Queen's birthday! (Although it's not really her birthday at all. For all the basics, see my reading notes from last year.) A group of us are off to Hawks Nest, about three hours north of Sydney. Should be a nice, long weekend of doing nothing at all. Can't wait.

Next week: a job (that pays!).

Throwin' some internet-less Kleinballs

A tangent:*

I love the US. I'd count the ways here, but that would become quite the tangent off of this tangent. So for purposes of the point I'm going to make, suffice it to say that I love the US.

I love other countries as well. I love Australia. I love France. I love Israel. I've generally loved most countries that I've visited.

I love each of the above countries, and more, because they all have something unique to offer, something that you won't find anywhere else in the world. None of them are better than any of the others. They're all just different. This is a good thing.

As we all know, America doesn't exactly have the best standing in the international community at the moment. And while I'm merely one American living abroad who alone can't do much to change that, I'm cognizant of the fact that people may see me as an extension of my country, and therefore (generally) try to act appropriately. With this in mind, I try to avoid comparisons that favor the US, because I feel as though these may come across the wrong way, as if I'm perpetuating the arrogant, "ugly American" persona and can't appreciate what other cultures have to offer.

But then there's customer service in Australia versus in the US. I'm sorry. I've reached a tipping point and I just can't bite my tongue any longer. My lord. I know it's en vogue to complain about customer service no matter where you are -- and that includes in the US, where I've had many horrific customer service experiences -- but believe me when I say that customer service in the US is leaps and bounds better than in Australia. Let me repeat that, in caps: LEAPS AND BOUNDS.

My latest pain? The internet service provider that we use in my apartment. Let's skip over the fact that there's actually a limit on the data that we can download each month; that alone can get me going on another tangent off of this tangent. Instead, let's focus on what's happened now that my roommates and I have decided to upgrade our plan, from 10GB of data a month to 30GB. Because in order to do that, for some reason I still can't fully grasp or care to even try to explain here, our ISP has to shut down our internet for two weeks! Caps, again: THEY'VE SHUT IT DOWN! FOR TWO WEEKS!

For customers who are requesting an upgrade to their existing service, you'd think most companies would jump through hoop after hoop to provide the best service possible. Not these guys. Instead, to thank us for being loyal and giving us more business, we have the distinct pleasure of going without internet for two weeks.

*Not sure how I can start a post with a tangent -- seems to kinda counter the definition of a tangent -- but there you go. Anyway. Tangent over.

The whole point of the above was to provide an excuse for not posting recently. Sorry. You'll get over it. Until then, here are a few Kleinballs to keep you coming back for more.

ANZAC Day was last Saturday, and it was good. Went to The Local, a new pub in our neighborhood that specializes in microbreweries, and played some Two-up.* Won more bets than I lost! Had some really good beers, including a Sunshine Coast Dunkelweizen (a dark wheat beer) and a Holgate Temptress Choc Porter, both of which blew my mind. The dunkelweizen, because it's friggin' amazing. (I've recently been into wheat beers, and this was a nice twist that brought things to a new level for me.) And the porter, because, holy jebus, that thing tasted like a chocolate milkshake.

*Don't know what Two-up is? It's really simple: Everyone stands around a ring and places money on the outcome of some coins that will soon be flipped. So if you want to bet $10 on heads coming up, you hold up $10 and yell out, "Ten on heads!" If someone wants $10 on tails, they'll let you know and give you $10. (The person betting on heads always holds the money.) Then coins are flipped. If they come up heads, you keep the money. If it's tails, you fork it back over to the other person.

The game was popularized among Australian soldiers during World War I, and as ANZAC Day is a commemoration for the soldiers, it's one of two days each year during which Two-up is legal.

The "job" is going well. Haven't made, or come close, to a sale yet, but I feel like I'm providing some good value to the company. Not that "providing value" pays me anything. But still. I feel good about it. And who knows, if I'm good enough, maybe this little arrangement will change so that I get an actual salary!

Because I have this "job", which may result in some income, I'm extending my deadline to find a job -- no quotes on this one... I'm talking the real deal! -- until some later date that I haven't yet determined but should probably figure out soon. Maybe two weeks later? May 22? That sounds about right. We'll see.

When these offers become available, I think I'll just keep throwing them up here to encourage people to come visit: $640 round trip from LA to Sydney! $840 from New York!!! Honestly, people. That's just a stupid deal.

And this weekend is the end of season cricket trip to Newcastle! I'm ridiculously excited, for about 38 different reasons. Seriously, it's going to be epic. I'd say about 30 hours of planning has already gone into it. I'd share some details now but, well, there are quite a few surprises planned and I can't have anyone find out before the trip. But rest assured, a full recap will follow... whenever we get our damn internet back.

I have a job?

As I said a couple of posts ago, in my search for a job, I'd leave no stone unturned. Well, it looks like that may have paid off, in the most unlikely of ways. Kind of.

Via the online Penn alumni directory, I got in touch with a guy who runs a digital agency that develops fully integrated website solutions for businesses. What does that mean? Think of everything that goes into a website. Not just what consumers see, which any agency and their mother can design these days, but all the stuff you don't see, the unglamorous, technical stuff to which many give lip service but few deliver: capturing data, generating traffic, tracking consumers' interactions with the site, building customer and prospect databases, etc. This guy's company does it all.

I thought I was going in for a simple informational interview. I left with a job... in the loosest sense of the word.

You see, this guy needs someone to generate new business. And based on our 90-minute meeting, he came to the conclusion that I could help him do that. How? I don't know; there's still a ton I need to learn about the agency's resources and capabilities. And, oh yeah, I've never actually been in sales before. So there's that.

There's got to be a catch, right? Yeah, there is: there's no base salary. That's right! At least to start, payment for this job is 100% based on commission. Now granted, I only would need to bring in four or five customers to this agency each year to be making good money. But when you're asking a new customer -- in this economy, no less -- to invest something in the six-figure range for a new/updated website, generating even that much business is a pretty big ask. So that's a bit shitty.

Why do it then? Because it's completely non-committal, with zero risk. I'll be committed to making this "job" work, yes. I'll have to take some time to try to learn the ropes, yes. And I'll definitely be trying to make some sales, yes. But at the same time, I have complete freedom to continue to search for work. In fact, that was the owner's selling point: You're currently searching for work at home. Why don't you start to do that from my office, and at the same time, I'll show you what we do here. If you like it and make some sales, great. If you don't, or you find something else you'd rather do, you're free to move on. What's the downside for me in that pitch??? I thought about it for a day, and I couldn't think of one.

When contemplating jobs I'd like to do, something like this would be far from the top of the list. But this is a no-lose situation? I try something new and see if I like it. If I do, great! And if I don't, I lose nothing. I start on Monday. And who knows? Maybe this will be the start of something new and great.

My life: The (relatively near) future

My life seems to be at a bit of a nexus right now. Just finished a whirlwind of a trip to LA; now I'm back in Sydney; and then... well, I don't know what happens then. I used the first post to tackle the (very immediate) past. Then I looked at the present. So now, it's the (relatively near) future... not that even I know what it holds for me.

-------------------------------------------------------

The future. Right.

Here's the easy answer: A job is offered to me by May 8. I accept said job. My new employer sponsors my work visa. I stay in Australia.

Hooray! Done and done.

So can we move on now? Perhaps to a topic more pleasant?

Ahhhhhhhhh, crap. Fine. Let's consider the other road that I could go down, the one that I wish I didn't have to entertain. But I guess that this is life, and I guess we have to consider all possibilities, even those that are unpleasant.

So let's break it down.

On the off chance that I don't find a job by May 8,* the next phase in what apparently has become my vagabond life begins. Australia begins to end. Some traveling commences. Australia ends. And then the real traveling begins.

*Not sure why I'm referring to this possibility as an "off" chance. If anything, it's the odds-on favorite scenario.

Here's the thing: For the past year or so, it's been my intention to do some traveling before ultimately moving back to the US. And as this has percolated in the back of my head, I'd assumed that this would be at the time of my choosing, perhaps not for a few more years. It seems, however, that my hand might be forced, and that "time of my choosing" may be now. But be that as it may, I'm still determined to travel. So that's what I'd do.

First would be the rest of Australia. For while I've seen a fair amount of this country -- the entire east coast, in fact -- this is a massive land mass. So there's still much to see: Western Australia (specifically Perth), the Northern Territory (specifically Darwin), Uluru (aka Ayers Rock), Tasmania and maybe another place or two.

Then it's on to the big trip: South America. There, the (very, very, very tentative) plan is to fly to one of the cities in the south -- either Buenos Aires or Santiago -- spend a month picking up some Spanish, and then slowly work my way north, into Central America and back to the US. And when I say "slowly", I really mean that; this would be a full-on adventure, with no more than a rough itinerary and no pressure to move any faster than I want to.

And then, once back in the US? Well, I have zero idea. In fact, I don't even know where I'd live! But that would be a long, long time from now, and remember, this is a very hypothetical scenario that may never eventuate so soon. At least I hope.

Which brings us back to May 8. That's my future at the moment, and outside of this post, you better believe that's all I'm thinking about. Because if/when I get that job, everything you've read in the six paragraphs above gets put on indefinite hold. And I'd be quite alright with that.

Throwin' some Super Klein-Bowls

It had been a long time since I watched a full football game, professional or college. Not this season. Not Super Bowl 42.* Maybe sometime last season. Maybe not. Honestly, I can't remember. But with my unemployment in full effect circa 10:30am last Monday, I was able to soak up the entirety of Super Bowl 43 in all its glory. And it was fantastic.

As I soberly described when I threw some Kleinballs the other day, far too many of my friends are out of a job. And since the Super Bowl, for whatever reason, is actually sort of a big deal here,** and none of us had anything better to do on a Monday morning, I decided to have a little soiree at my place.

*No way am I gonna take the time to figure out those Roman numerals.

**Honestly, I have no idea why it's big here. But, you know, it is the Super Bowl.

I decided that this would have to be as authentic a Super Bowl party as possible, with a real celebration of Americana. And the first order of business was the food. For this, I decided that the main dish would be what my dear and deadbeat of a friend Ross has dubbed "manchos". That's right: nachos for MEN.


How good does that look??!? Corn chips, cheese, refried beans, beef with chilli seasoning, onion, tomato and jalapeno... lots of jalapeno.* And best of all, the above photo actually shows a very incomplete dish. For after it was taken, a very, very, very liberal extra layer of cheese was added. Good times.**

*I'm just gonna say it: Australians are idiots when it comes to anything Latino. Maybe we -- and by "we" I mean Americans -- are used to it because of all the Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, etc in the States, but most Australians are really ignorant of the language and food.

Take, for example, when I bought the jalapenos at the store. The woman scanning my food saw them, gave a bit of a blank stare and asked, "What are these?" I responded, "Jalapenos." She typed away on her screen, trying to bring up the right code. Ten seconds later: "I can't find it in here. How do you spell it? Is it h-a-l...??" I stopped her. "No, no. It's j-a-l-a-p-e-n-o." She typed away. Ten seconds later: "I still can't find it. So it's h-a-j-a-l...??" I stopped her again, a little annoyed: "No! J-a-l-a-p-e-n-o. No 'H'." Finally, mercifully, she found it.

Relaying this story to my friends back at my place, they laughed and one of them suggested that I should have just pronounced it phonetically: jah-lah-PAY-no. And another one countered that she would have come back with, "Oh! The jah-LAH-peh-nos! I love those things!"

**While we're on the topic, why don't you give the manchos a "10" rating on my new favorite web site, WouldYouEatIt.net.

Next came the guacamole. For this, I used a recipe I found online, and then doubled the amount of green chillies that it called for. Awesome.

And lastly came the booze. And for this, there was only one way to go: The King of Beers. So the day before, I bought a case, brought it home and put the beers in the fridge. But I wasn't done, oh no. It was time to get as American as absolutely possible. And so, using the cardboard from the beer case, I present to you this:



You know you love it.

Maz, one of my roommates, had a few bets on the game. One of them was that Roethlisberger would score the first touchdown, which was courtesy of a tip from me. So when Big Ben ran that broken play in for a touchdown on the Steelers' first drive, we went nuts. NUTS! Maz and I were jumping up and down and shared in a moment of bromance as we embraced. I was so proud of myself. And then, when it was called back on a challenge, well, that sucked. Ahhhh, the joys of gambling.

From what I understand, Ben Graham, the Australian punter for the Cardinals (and ex-Australian Rules Football star), got some press in the US during the two weeks leading up to the game, as he was the first Aussie ever to play in the Super Bowl. Now, to get a sense of how much attention he received here during the game, I want you to take whatever mentions he received during the telecast from the States (as far as I can tell, that consisted of one graphic that said "Ben Graham: first Australian to play in Super Bowl")... and then multiply it by about 8,568. Because when everyone in the States went to commercial and were treated to porn, we had a studio of Australian analysts gushing over Graham and breaking down every single one of his punts. It was hilarious, especially from my perspective. But hey, I guess that's the hook here.

One thing I absolutely won't complain about was the feed that we got for the game. Last year, we received some feed meant for international audiences, with play-by-play by Dick Stockton and color commentary by Sterling Sharpe. My lord, it was awful. AWFUL!* This year, we got the same feed as in the US, with Al Michaels and John Madden. Say what you want about Michaels and Madden (or Joe Buck and Troy Aikman, who did last year's game), but for me, to have access to the regular telecast for this year's game, that was heaven on earth.

*Here's what I wrote to a friend shortly after last year's game: "Stockton was passable, but Sharpe... my GOD! He is such an idiot. As the Pats marched down the field to reclaim the lead, he kept saying, 'This is perfect for the Giants! The clock's still running, the Pats aren't picking up any big plays, this is going perfectly for them!' Meanwhile, the Pats are absolutely picking apart the Giants' defense. So what if they're only picking up 5 yards per play? So what if the clock's still running? Despite what happened on the Giants' next possession, that was a perfect march down the field! And on the Giants' next possession, on that play where Eli under threw Burress to just miss a first down, Sharpe says, 'It doesn't get any better than that!' Heck??" Yes. Heck, indeed.

Hey -- I don't think I ever wrote anything about Australia Day! Well, yeah, it was good. Barbecue at my place, Short's famous potato bake, Snellfinger, many drinks. Then we went to a bar that had some karaoke on and watched in pure delight as some guy, drunk out of his mind, simply tipped over halfway through his song.

And while we're on a tangent, the Penn men's basketball team currently has a ludicrous 1-3 record in Ivy League play. That includes losses to freaking Dartmouth and freaking Columbia. Earlier this decade, if you told me that I'd ever utter those words, I would have laughed you out of a room. Excuse me while my head explodes.

I've heard a lot of mixed reviews about Bruce Springsteen's halftime show. For the detractors, the argument generally seems to center around how it was cheesy and over-the-top and maybe a little campy. And I absolutely agree with that assessment; it was all of those things. But I guess I had a different interpretation of the intent; I think it was a conscious effort on the Boss' part to get a bit ridiculous, as if he just wanted to go out there and celebrate the biggest day in American sports by having a fun, goofy time. So while others disliked the performance, I found it to be a little endearing. Although he may have gone too far when he decided to rocket his crotch into millions of homes around the world. What I want to know is, where's the uproar??!? The fact that there hasn't been a backlash equal to that of the wardrobe malfunction tells me that all the politicians and pundits out there clearly have some personal vendetta against Janet and JT Two.*

*JT One, of course, being James Taylor.

And hey, have you ever noticed the resemblance between Larry Fitzgerald and Ronaldinho? I hadn't, but Shorty picked that up during the game, and it's definitely there. Sports Illustrated clearly agrees as well:


Here's a very cool feature from the New York Times, showing what words appeared in Twitter messages the most over the course of the game. I'm still trying to figure Twitter out -- don't forget that you can follow me here! -- but just the fact that we have the technology to do something like this... very cool.

Oh, and the commercials! Ummmm, yeah. They didn't show those here -- they were far too busy breaking down every one of Ben Graham's butt scratches on the bench -- and despite their omnipresence on the web, I somehow haven't found the time to watch them. Even the porn.

Unsure about my own future

The hammer has dropped -- I've officially been let go from my agency.

Yesterday I wrote about how I was excited for the future of my country. And now, after somehow waking up at 4 this morning -- still quite drunk from last night -- to watch the inauguration festivities, I might be even more excited for the future of the US.

For my own personal future, however, "excited" very much does not apply to my current mindset. And "unsure" might be the kindest and perhaps most incomplete way to sum it up.

I knew this was coming; it wasn't a surprise. But when I was actually called into a room with HR, yeah, it was still a kick in the gut. About ten of us were let go, and that's never going to be pleasant.

What now? Well, pretty much exactly what I've been doing for the last three months: lots and lots of looking, cold calls, informational interviews, etc. Only difference is that now, I'll be doing it from the comfort of my apartment. But today, and maybe for the rest of this week (which will segue quite nicely into a long Australia Day Weekend), I'll be taking it relatively easy, sleeping in, going for some long jogs, taking some jaunts to the beach. Might as well make the best of a very unsure situation.

Woe is freaking me

The title of this post is the line I used in an email to some friends yesterday, and it's really quite apt in capturing the essence of my last 48 hours. Consider the following:

Monday, circa 3:00pm
I duck out of work for about an hour to watch the Sox, down 3-1 in Game 7 of the ALCS, tease me in the eighth and ninth innings and ultimately lose to the Rays.* Not to take anything away from the Rays, for they are a really good team, but that's a game that the Sox should have and could have won. And probably would have won a year ago.

*Somewhere, a higher power is saying: "Let me get this straight. You have two teams. They both made it deep into the playoffs. This is a good thing. Yet you’re bitching about the chance of them meeting up in the World Series??!? Fine, you’ll get nothing and you’ll like it." As I've said from the beginning, I brought this upon myself; I deserve whatever comes to me. Including this.

Monday, circa 3:20pm
Back in the office for maybe 20 minutes, my agency's managing director calls an impromptu meeting to give us the lovely news that my client is going to another agency. That would be the client that I'm 100% resourced on. Shortly, they will not be with the agency. A nonexistent client means a nonexistent job. More on this surely to follow.

Tuesday, circa the entire day
No one knows what's going on with our client leaving or how it's going to play out. All we know for sure is that jobs will be lost. Including mine, potentially. Nothing will happen in the immediate few days or weeks, but it will happen, perhaps even within the next month or two. So throughout the day, there's absolutely something in the air in the office. And circa the entire day, I'm just annoyed.

Tuesday, circa 6:30pm
My normal five minute wait for a bus turns into 20 minutes. Under normal circumstances, this is an annoyance. On this day, this is infuriating.

Tuesday, circa 7:40pm
Halfway through a run to blow off some steam, about as far as I can possibly get from my apartment, I step into a pothole and sprain my ankle. With no way to call anyone or money for a bus or taxi, I proceed to limp the two miles back home.

Now it's Wednesday. I woke up to an ankle that has ballooned, as if someone inserted a golf ball into it last night. I cannot walk, I cannot put any weight on it. So no work today. Instead it was off to the doctor, who's sending me out for an x-ray, because it could be broken. I'm on Forest Gump-style crutches, and it's pouring outside.

Yeah. Woe is freaking me.

Holy crap, that was fast

When I came here, I figured I'd go some time without a job offer, let alone a job. A month? Probably a tad optimistic. Two months? Sounds about right. Three months? Wouldn't be surprised.

Try two weeks. No. Less than two weeks.

Still have to give the official acceptance, but barring an amazing interview with another agency tomorrow morning (with a very solid offer to boot), I will be a Junior Account Director on Tuesday.

Hot damn, I'm good!

Jobs, meat pies and The W Hotel

Had my first real job day today, with meetings at three recruitment agencies. And it's looking good for work! To be sure, the visa issue makes things more difficult, but everyone I spoke with was fairly optimistic that I'd be able to find employment relatively quickly.

In between the first and second interviews, I spent an hour looking for this meat pie stand outside of The W Hotel that Hannah raved about while I was in LA. In describing this place, Windward School's favorite photography teacher gave me every indication that The W Hotel was in the middle of the city, and even went as far as to say it was on George Street. But after an hour of aimless wandering, I gave up.

After some research back at my place, it turns out that The W Hotel in Sydney is in Woolloomooloo, which is nowhere even close to where Hannah described. (Also, on top of being one of the most ridiculous names ever, I believe Woolloomooloo holds the record for having the most O's in a city name. You know, in case that ever comes up in Trivial Pursuit.) The lesson, as always? When it comes to memory-related issues, never, ever, ever trust Hannah. Draw your own conclusions from this.