Procrastinatin' with some Kleinballs while I curse myself

Well, in case there was ever any doubt, it's now official: I'm an idiot.

Somehow, over the last several weeks, I came under the very erroneous impression that Sam and Sarah were arriving this morning. I mentally circled the date in my head, and all errands and activities this week were planned so that I'd be free today to pick them up from the airport and start our two-week adventure together.

I emailed Sam and Sarah on Wednesday, the day they were gonna head off from New York... that is, if they were to arrive in Sydney on Friday morning. I told them that I couldn't believe they'd be leaving New York "today" and that I'd be waiting for them at the airport on Friday morning. I even provided this link to my post about their visit, in which I clearly say that they'd be coming on Friday morning.

Sam and Sarah responded to my email. Below are some excerpts from each of their emails:

• Email #1, from Sarah: "Still awake haven't slept yet way too pumped."
• Email #2, from Sam: "I'll confirm the flight when I get to work. I can't believe this. 2 weeks in oz baby!!"
• Email #3, from Sarah: "Can't believe we leave tomorrow!!!"

Any mention in these three emails that I was under the very wrong impression of which day they'd arrive on?? NO! In fact, Sarah's first email almost confirms my understanding. Was she so excited that she couldn't sleep two nights before she was scheduled to leave? Because that's the only way to interpret her words.

It wasn't until Sarah's last email, in which she says they'd be leaving "tomorrow" (in response to my email in which I said -- and I quote -- "Holy shit, you guys leave today. TODAY!!!") that I realized something was amiss. For not only did she say that they'd be leaving "tomorrow" (Thursday), but according to my calculations (which were based on my faulty understanding), she should have been about 30,000 feet over Colorado at the time she sent it. So I searched through my old emails, found Sam's original email with their flight info, and there it was: arrive Saturday morning. Yep, I'm an idiot.

ANYWAY.

Now I've been sitting in my apartment all day with nothing to do because I had left my schedule wide open to hang out with them. Now there's nothing. So in an effort to make the day pass, I figure I'd throw a couple of Kleinballs out there.

Man beats up 'kangaroo Jackie Chan' in house. A good and intriguing headline, no doubt, but after reading this story, my lord, the possibilities are endless! Someone get the New York Post on the phone! A few options that I very hastily came up with in about 3.4 seconds:

• Man confuses kangaroo with lunatic ninja, goes Seven Samurai on its ass.
• Kangaroo shreds mans underpants.
• Chef cooks kangaroo, kangaroo's cousin attempts to exact revenge on chef's family.

Okay, I'll be the first to admit that these all could use some work -- I swear I used to be good at writing headlines -- but there are some beautiful tidbits in that article. One thing's for sure: only in Australia.

Peanut butter sales are plummeting. I've had nightmares about this. (Wait, maybe this is a good thing? All the more for me to horde?)

You may remember my Movember adventure from last November, and that for those people who donated on my behalf, I sent out a daily email with pictures of my slow-to-grow moustache. Robert, who will himself be landing here in exactly one week's time -- and don't worry, I'm positive of this date -- put together the following brilliant video that chronicles my 'stache:

This baseball off-season, if the Red Sox had signed CC Sabathia to anything comparable to what the Yankees ultimately signed him for, I would have been furious. Insanely overweight pitchers (and he's the second heaviest in baseball!!!) with huge workloads over the past two seasons (including many starts on three days rest late last year) don't exactly have the best track record one, two or seven years into the future. So I was all for the Yankees signing him to that albatross of a deal: $161 million over seven years. Anyway, I know it's only Spring Training,* but nonetheless, this pleases me to no end. Let the glorious revisionist history begin.

*And of all people, I'm the one to generally put zero stock in how players perform in March.

The National Rugby League here begins its season tonight. And just to make things really interesting in the lead-up to the season, earlier this week, one of the best players on the defending champions was accused of sexually assaulting a 17-year-old girl. As if that's not insane enough, a team executive recently had the tenacity to fault the league's salary cap for creating an atmosphere in which that might happen. Riiiiiiiiight. Anyway, I hadn't even heard of this ridiculous assertion in Australia until it was picked up by an American web site. I'm not even going to try to explain; you can read the absurd logic for yourself.

Along with the beginning of the NRL season comes the beginning of the fantasy leagues, and most of my friends in my neighborhood are all in the same league. I thought I could be bad when watching a game that had implications for me in fantasy baseball, basketball or football. But these guys... yikes. They take it to a whole new level.

I guess it's comforting to know that I'm not the craziest person out there. Just an idiot.

There are cane toads, there are kangaroos... and then there are cassowaries

This is Part Four of my thematic recap of my trip to Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef.



It's been one month since I finished my trip to Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef with John, and this is my fourth of what I was hoping would be many more entries on the trip. So it's time to get on it and combine a few entries, because, well, the details are fading. Fortunately, the one set of memories that will be engrained into my memory for perhaps the rest of my life is night driving on this trip.

We've all driven at night. We've all probably had close calls with animals while driving. We've all driven during rainstorms. And I'm sure we've all done looooong night drives, all the while fighting fatigue.

Combine all of those and you get the drive that John and I did on Christmas Eve into Christmas Day.

You see, we had taken our time driving north our first few days. Noosa was fantastic (and mostly rain-free!) and Rainbow Beach was a compulsory stop because beyond being our gateway to Fraser Island , we found a great campsite right on the water. But after taking our time, we realized we had to get on it. So after spending Christmas Eve Day on Fraser Island , we hit the road at 8, hoping to make it to Airlie Beach (959 kilometers north) by the next morning. After a brief detour through Tin Can Bay (read: we got lost... again), we were back on the main highway and heading north. And pretty quickly, as it became dark, we were blindsided by a cacophony of dangers:

• It began to pour. Not a drizzle, not a steady rain, not heavy rain. No. It was pouring.
• Driving down the road, it quickly became apparent that we weren't alone. Nope, standing on the side of the road every few kilometers was a kangaroo, just waiting to hop on out in front of us.
• And what beings were on the road with us? Hundreds -- nay, thousands -- of cane toads.
• Finally, heading down this two-lane "highway" at 100 kilometers per hour, we had 18-wheelers flying by us in the opposite direction, kicking up water and wind as they flew by.

So there we were, crouched over the wheel, as dusk turned to the pitch black of night, trying to look past the rain-soaked windshield to (a) stay in the left lane (a challenge that was difficult enough in its own right), (b) keep an eye out for kangaroos ready to hop in front of us and (c) trying to keep control of the van as big rigs flew by us.

Fortunately, the one thing we didn't have to worry about were the cane toads, for they absolutely riddle the road (they've completely overrun Queensland and the Northern Territory -- think The Simpsons episode where Bart unleashes them in the country), so there's really no sense in trying to avoid them anyway. Instead, every minute or so, we'd simply make some cane toad pancakes.

Anyway, as the night wore on, the weather calmed down. The roos and cane toads were still out, yes, but at least the visibility was much better. And it being Christmas Eve/Christmas, the roads were pretty much empty. So, in between the many stops for coffee and other artificial products to keep us up and listening to some ungodly talk radio, we started making good time. That is, until about 5am, when the sky opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour the likes of which I've never seen. I thought earlier in the night was bad? Nope, this was bad. And so there I was, on a highway with a speed limit of 110 kph, going maybe 30.

Now, I'm rereading my post up to this point, and it really doesn't do that night justice. So I'll pass on Exhibit B, with photographic evidence. For a few nights later, John and I headed into Mission Beach. And what do you know, but we were facing pretty much the same exact conditions: rain, roos, cane toads and big rigs. But this time, there was a twist. For we were driving through one of the only places in the world where cassowaries are still native. What's a cassowary, you ask? The photo to the left... that's a cassowary. And it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. Honestly, John and I had seen one face to face in a wildlife park only a few weeks before this trip and I had to divert my eyes. It's absolutely huge (some grow to be over six feet!) and has a gigantic bone protruding from its head, a nasty turkey-like wattle and a piercing, intimidating stare.

Oh yeah, and then there's this video and this lovely quote from the Wikipedia entry on cassowaries: A cassowary's three-toed feet have sharp claws; the dagger-like middle claw is 120 mm (5 inches) long. This claw is particularly dangerous since the cassowary can use it to kill an enemy, disembowelling it with a single kick. They can run up to 50 km/h (32 mph) through the dense forest. They can jump up to 1.5 m (5 feet) and they are good swimmers." What the hell is this beast??!? Some sort of a freakish cross between the T-1000 and a velociraptor??!?

So driving down the winding road to Mission Beach, imagine the same scenario again: rain, roos, cane toads and big rigs. But now, thanks to signs like in the picture on the left (!!!), we were all too aware that there was some sort of beast looming in the forest besides us, just waiting to step out onto the road, demolish our van and then disembowel us with a single kick! So there we sat, bracing for what I quickly talked myself into believing was an inevitability.

(Quick sidenote on this last picture. Really? Really??!? You're worried about the cassowaries? I mean, I know they're a protected species, but let's reread this passage from Wikipedia again before we jump to conclusions on who exactly we're protecting.)

Of course, the inevitable did not come to fruition. And after driving probably 20 kph to get into Mission Beach, praise be to whoever the praise is due, we survived without any encounters with (let alone seeing) any cassowaries. For which I am -- and always will be -- supremely thankful.

We ended up staying in Mission Beach for two nights because, during the day, it was frickin' gorgeous. However, come the day we left, we hightailed it out of there in the very light of day. And for the rest of the trip, we never drove at night again.

'Roos Gone Wild!

Australians think it's hilarious that many Americans believe that kangaroos are everywhere in Australia, just hopping around city streets all willy nilly. I can confirm that this just doesn't happen. Except for yesterday:



Oh yeah, I guess there was this one, too: