These are a few of my favourite things…

It’s officially July 2009 and you know what that means!  Colder weather and warm doonas?  The raging and insatiable desire to eat all chocolate within a 1 kilometer radius?  Trying to figure out why “July” still evokes painful memories in me of sweltering Colorado summers, even though I’m in the southern hemisphere?  Well yes, all of these things are correct, but more importantly, July marks my having lived one WHOLE year in Australia!  I’ve learned heaps about this glorious, glorious land in the last 12 months and wanted to share with you some of my discoveries.  So, without further ado, I give you the First Annual Dirt Warrior End of the First Innagural Year of My Landing in Australia List of Things that I Really Like About this Country:

10.  Favourite Live Australian Act: Gurlesque

Formed by duo Sex Intents and Glitta Supernova in…THE YEAR 2000, Gurlesque is a favourite in the queer scene.  With shows that feature a fantastic host of performances, dancing and side-splitting comedy, these monthly acts aren’t to be missed.  I’ve been to two of these shows now and have had a spectacular time at both.

Sex Intents & Glitta Supernova of Sydney's Gurlesque

9.  Favourite Australian Sporting League: Sydney Roller Derby League

So I might be a little biased with this choice, as I am a skating member and I’m doing my research on the sport, but as Sydney’s first all-female flat-track roller derby leauge, the SRDL is fast, frantic and painfully hot.  Lucky for you, tickets for the last bout of the season (July 19th) are still on sale so you won’t miss out!

8.  Favourite Australian Music Groups:  I had a really tough time singling this catagory to a palatable four choices and the mixed results were chosen on how many times I play a certain track by a certain group per day, the “ass-shake” factor of said track (especially while in the car) and how giddy and retarded I get while listening to said artist.

Architecture in Helsinki: Apart from having a HUGE crush on the lady singer of Melbourne-based band Architecture in Helsinki (I think it’s the super sultry way she whispers “can you give me that…” in the single That Beep) my love for AiH stems from the bubbly, sugary-sweet pop/funk/synth energy of the group and the inevitable giddiness that listening to them brings.

Gotye: I was absolutely besotted with Melbourne-based Gotye’s single Heart’s a Mess when I first heard it some 6 months ago, and I still listen to the song once a day.  Haunting, lyrical and evocative of that certain…something, he is an artist that I’m glad I didn’t miss.

The Presets: This Sydney-based dance punk duo came screaming into my life via my girlfriend’s ringtone, as has settled in the cockles of my heart ever since.  Check out “Yippiyo-Ay”, “Talk Like That” and “My People” for some fantastic dance grooves.

Bertie Blackman: I was able to see Bertie Blackman live (and free!) at a hotel in Darling Harbour some time ago and fell in love with her Sia-like (another favourite Aussie artist) rasp and throbbing drum and bass lines.  Getting your hands on her CD outside of Australia (legally) is pretty tough, but worth it if you have the extra cash laying around.

7.  Favourite Australian Festival: Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras

The largest Pride parade in the world, with enough sequins and glitter to bedazzle Oxford street for weeks (I’m still finding glitter in places that glitter ought not be).  Camp and glam aside, the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras is also a well-known platform for political and civil rights for the GLBT community and has gained world-wide fame for bringing hot, pressing GLBT issues to the masses since the late 70’s.

6.  Favourite Australian Pub: The Townhall Hotel, Newtown NSW

Sure it’s a little rough around the edges, the juke-box selections…”unique” and the odds of being racked by a drunkenly mishandled cue stick high, The Townie is still the best pub to be while in Newtown.  Unfortunately many of my more memorable stories of this place are not suitable for public Internet consumption, but I urge you to make your own memories over a schooner or two.  Just make sure to bring your ID, or you might find yourself walking back to St. Peters for it.

5.  Favourite Australian Beer: Coopers Sparkling Ale

Rich, a tad bitter, golden and bottle fermented this tasty little number packs a punch at 5.8% ABV that leaves you (sometimes) a bit groggy in the morning, but fondly recalling every golden minute.  Pairs nicely with pub burgers, roller girls and hot summer evenings.

4.  Favourite Australian Animal: Drop Bears

In Australia, there is a nation-wide inside joke regarding a fictional koala-like marsupial called a “Drop Bear” that is said to haunt the forests of Australia, ready to drop on and savagely maul unsuspecting victims below. Being the gullible dork that I am, I fell for the story for about a week (after, of course, confirming the validity of the story to every Australian that I knew) before taking it upon myself to do a little research.  What did I find?  Well, you’ll never see me walking through the bush without my handy Drop Bear Umbrella ever again!

3.  Favourite Australian Lingo: “Off your tits”

Used primarily as a description for being wildly drunk, this phrase has many an application.  None that I can think if right now mind you, but they’re there.  Trust me.  A close second in this category was this phase (as spoken by an Aussie); “No I don’t know which home is yours!”.

2.  Favourite Suburb in Sydney:  Newtown/St. Peters

Though I did spend the better part of a year in the northern suburb of Marsfield, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for King Street, Newtown and the Inner West.  The Coloradan in me can appreciate the Boulder-esque feel of the throbbing op-shop lined street, thronged with pierced and tattooed students and suited business people alike, while the newly christened gay in me loves the active lesbian nightlife and being able to walk down the street hand-in-hand with my girlfriend without getting funny looks.  Now that I live within a reasonable bike ride from the heart of this great little suburb, I have the feeling I’ll fall in love with it even more.

1.  Favourite Australian:  Ms. B.A.H.

For being lovely in everything that she does, and for possessing infinite amounts of patience with me, even when I’m being a total bastard.  Her kindness and dedication to others, daily inspires me to be a better person.  I would have long since quit and gone home without her support and for that I am eternally grateful.  My dear, if I could offer you the world, I would.

Back to normal?

Means taking a break from coding field notes (30% of which involves compulsively checking Facebook and reading blogs on roller derby erm…I mean, “doing research”) and slapping up some links!  I’ve been rather shocked at the comments I’ve received (offline, you cowards!) from friends and family asking when I’ll be bringing back the “weekly round-up” posts.  Sadly, I’m far too unreliable to do something weekly, but I will do whenever-I-want -to round-ups of stuff that’s caught my eye.

In the “what in the holy hell?!” department we have a couple of doozies, the first (thanks to Nick for passing along this gem) from the Neuticles website.  Admittedly I laughed myself stupid the first time I looked at the web-site and have alternatively scratched my head and peed a little for every subsequent visit.  Call me callous, but really?  Really?!  Does Fido care?  Do we have irrevocable evidence that this sort of procedure helps the psychological damage done to animals by routine neutering?  Is there any psychological damage in the first place?!  Ahh well, at least I have something really fun to look at when the world gets ole’ DW down.  Well, that and the American Cornhole Association site. (Juvenile? Oh yes. Also, pull that stick out of your ass.)

Me too!

The second goes to J&D for the fantastically ingenious bacon lip-balm.  Truly the worlds most amazing cosmetic.

In a world of conflict between differing schools of beauty (and what the hell does that even mean?!) the Adipositivity project shines.  This is taken directly from the sites front page:

The women you see in these images are educators, executives, mothers, musicians, professionals, performers, artists, activists, clerks, and writers. They are perhaps even the women you’ve clucked at on the subway, rolled your eyes at in the market, or joked about with your friends.

I for one think the site is beautifully done and while I don’t necessarily condone a push for all plus-sized models, it is nice to see all shapes and sizes being portrayed in a way that showcases the humanity of the model.  Plus, the photographer is a fan of okonomiyaki and any lover of okonomiyaki is a friend of mine.  In the same vein, Myra Medible of American Sexuality writes a fantastic article on big butts and the sneaky little cultural nuances therein.  I was particularly fond of this gem:

It may well be that America’s butt fling signals a growing acceptance of difference-a desire to broaden the repertoire of acceptable body types and beauty myths. If this celebration of fulsome booty helps women move beyond the self-hatred and anxiety attached to body fat or encourages ethnic pride in women whose bodies have historically been pathologized and denigrated-then power to the butt, indeed.

Indeed!  I wish I would have stumbled upon this article while taking my Commodities and Culture course last semester.  It would have been a riot to research a paper on the commodification of the ass (and by default, fat).  I’m serious.

But really, in the end I’m going to side with Brother Ali (a Muslim, albino rapper) when he said:

Dependin’ on the day, and dependin’ on what I ate,
I’m anywhere from 20 to 35 pounds overweight.
I got red eyes, and one of ‘em’s lazy,
and they both squint when the sun shines so I look crazy.
I’m albino man, I know I’m pink and pale…
I’m not the classic profile of what the ladies want.
You might think I’m depressed as can be,
But when I look in the mirror I see sexy-ass me.
And if that’s somethin’ that you can’t respect then that’s peace.
My life’s better without you actually.
To everyone out there, who’s a little different,
I say, “damn a magazine, these is God’s fingerprints.
You can call me ugly but can’t take nothin’ from me.
I am what I am, doctor, you ain’t gotta love me.”

I’ma be all right, you ain’t gotta be my friend tonight (you ain’t gotta love me).
An’ I’ma be okay, you would probably bore me anyway (you ain’t gotta love me).

Time for sex!  Oh you knew it was coming.  (Word of warning: I’m really not censoring myself in this post, so if snarky comments regarding things of a sexual nature from an adult long beyond the age of consent offend you, you should probably never read my blog again.)

Wendy Atterberry of The Frisky (best. blog. ever) writes a delightfully cheeky response to a Men’s Health article “Make Her Fantasies Come True”. The handful she shoots down are absolutely hilarious (and spot-on) and I decided to follow (read: copy) her lead by creating my own responses:

3. Mow the lawn in jeans and no shirt so I can play desperate housewife from the window.
Then come inside smelling of fresh-cut grass, sweat, and pheromones, and make love to me on the dining-room table.

90% of the men I’m interested in would probably horrify the neighbours by prancing around the front yard with hot-pants and no shirt.  Guys, you can look just a sexy with that sweat-stained t-shirt still on.  Besides, what’s not hot about stripping you out of your clothes?  And what’s not hot about having a woman at you like a rabid drop bear, trying to get said sweaty clothes off of you?  That’s what I thought.

7. Read up on sex.
There are books on boinking that are worth the embarrassment of buying them. Like Ian Kerner’s She Comes First, for example. It’s a guide to giving oral sex so well that your partner will insist on cooking you blueberry pancakes the next morning. Yes, you’re an amazing lover already, but Kerner has a Ph.D. for a reason.

They have a Ph.D. program in oral sex?!  Sign me up for that!  And I can’t cook worth a crap so honey, make your own damn pancakes.

10. Ask to take black-and-white photos of me naked.
I want you to, but I’m not so cocky as to suggest that my body could be a work of art. That’s why I need you to do it for me. Bring it up after we’ve had sex. Tell me that the curve of my hips needs to be immortalized. Then, one rainy Saturday night, produce a bottle of wine and a camera.

It’s gonna take far more than one bottle to convince me to let you take photos of my no-no bits, no matter how many sweet compliments you whisper in my ear.

And so on and so fourth.  I pity the fool who takes these seriously.  Then again, I feel the same sort of head-shaking shame for the women’s magazines that offer the same kind of advice to the tune of “how to please your man in 50 different steps!” one of which will inevitably include circus-worthy contortion performances that only lead to awkward Q&A sessions with your doctor.  And chiropractor.  Moving along.

“Worried about your partner’s bedpost notches?  Get over it!” says John DeVore.  While I tend to agree with this on principle, it’s the aversion to the Itch N’ Scratch out there that does make me worry about a partners notches (that and why they have a knife so close to the bed.  Har har har.)  I did dig this though:

Personally, I love a “slut”, someone who knows what they want, who goes for it, who never apologizes, but who learns from experience. I also appreciate full-disclosure. And anyone who doesn’t live their life like they are making it up on the go is lying to themselves.

I can appreciate the art of self-gratification, so too can the masterminds behind Babeland and the oh-so-sleek SaSi – the Wii/iPod of pleasure-toys.  Not only does this puppy have a sexy little design, it is programmed to remember what you’ve done before, just like a real lover!  Hopefully.  If it wasn’t for the $100+ price tag, I’d be all over this like…well, you get the idea.

Also from The Frisky, Simcha brings us an absolutly fascinating piece on male lesbian sexual fantasy.  The reader comments about bisexuality and the semantics thereof are interesting to say the least.  Really – if you click no other link on this post, click that one.

On that note, one last link for you to chew on (it’s not bacon flavoured though, for shame).  I’m off to adventure.  Or sleep.  Mostly sleep.

Oh, yes and my new digs:

Yeehaw! It’s the Saturday Roundup #1

Holy god, it has been raining like a mother3ucker for over 24-hours now and I’m starting to get a little skittish.  You’d think living in Japan would have cured me of my aversion to water, but apparently it hasn’t.  Not that I don’t enjoy a warm, gentle rain now and again, but this torrential downpour makes me nervous.  I need sun!  And less than 5% humidity!

Whine whine whine.  On to the Saturday roundup!  [insert dueling banjos here]

Today marks my first day of practice with the Sydney Roller Derby League!  I’m terrified that I’ll miss a bus, break an ankle or fart really loud when I fall.  Not that I haven’t already done all of those things at least once in the last week, but a girl has to have goals.

I am a classy lady.

I spent a couple of hours yesterday wandering around Surry Hills/Darlinghurst (probably most famous for holding the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras as well as Sleaze Ball) in Sydney.  I immediately fell in love with the area around Oxford and Crown streets the first time I was rather harshly accosted (in broad daylight) by a couple of drunk men hanging out on the stairs of a local sex club.  (I’m very serious – you don’t get better people watching then Darlinghurst!)  There’s also a riotous assortment of sex clubs, shops and erotic venues which makes Darlo the perfect stop for research in another class of mine, Urban Anthropology, where I’m looking at the construction of erotic space in the Ottoman Empire (something that I have never studied before which is proving to be really, really fun).

...for research.

So, let’s talk about sex.

Karen Dolan at AlterNet (thanks again Mark for showing me the sweetness that is AlterNet) writes a short piece about the importance of sex-ed and contraception for kids. For those who won’t click the link (I know who you are and I’m watching you. Oh yes.) the following blurb nicely sums up her opinion with the added bonus of making me scream “Yes!  YESHHHHH!!!” while banging my fists on my desk:

The idea that once a teenager, deprived of an education which teaches contraception, finds herself pregnant, is then expected to allow the embryo to come to term, to then either give it away or marry the father regardless of who, what or how he is doesn’t rank among my values.

Suck on that whitey!

Also at AlterNet, Dr. Marty Klein discusses “Yet Another Obscenity Trial” and I die a little inside.

Angela Bonavoglia over at On the Issues Magazine poses a provocative (and in my humble opinion) very important question: “Can prostitution be a freely made choice?”. If you have the time, I’d suggest that you take an hour or so to browse through the rest of the content at On the Issues.  They have some fascinating stuff there!

Lisa Wynn at Culture Matters writes a delightfully snarky post (“Rrawr” had me choking on muesli) about the use of erectile dysfunction drugs cross-culturally and also touches on the new ban on female circumcision in Egypt. Both are worth a read!

Condom-free sex replaces the wedding ring? I dunno, Herpes is considerably harder to get rid of then an annoying spouse!

And in my final and completely sexually unrelated article (though it still makes you feel good), FemaleScienceProfessor writes a fantastic post about that oh-so-stupid feeling (not so fresh feeling?) you can sometimes get while working in scientific research.  This one is just for you Mom.

But I NEED it.

This semester I’m taking a fascinating course dealing with the anthropology of commodities and consumption.  I think this course is doubly exciting because I’ve never taken a formal course in economics (because to me economics = numbers and we all know numbers are the devil) and I am being introduced to old anthropological theory in a new way.

Like any good anthropology course, I leave every session with a new way of looking at the world and today’s discussion about shopping was no exception.  What really caught my attention was this idea of “consumer lust” and consumer desire.  The way I understand it (and I might be way out in left field here), this idea of consumer desire is driven by a passionate state of mind that is characterized by an irrational (almost sexual) desire for buying stuff.  I’d like to discuss this.

When I move to a different place (either in the US or abroad) one of the first things I do is find a grocery store and spend an hour or so browsing through the aisles.  Often, I do not buy anything but make mental notes about what they offer and how much certain things cost.  This helps with making a budget for the upcoming months, but also fulfills an immediate need to interact with a new culture in as base a way possible; through consumption.  There’s something soothing and “homey” about buying stuff, especially in a new place.  New crap to put in your new room – little knick-knacks that make a space your own. While I was living in Japan I spent a crazy amount of time at the 100 yen store, buying cheap stuff to outfit my living space.  Normally I’m not a shopper and to this day I hate shopping for clothes, but get me out of my comfort zone and I have to spend, spend spend.  I absolutely experience a burning desire to purchase objects (this is why I stay far, far away from rei.com).  Hell, this month (my first in Australia) I’ve spent more than I have the last two months in the US.  I see something and have to have it.

When I went to my first Australian grocery store, one of the things I immediately noticed was the surprising amount of bacon flavoured products.  Now I’m not going to get into a discussion about the moral, environmental (and safety related?!) concerns floating around the consumption of meat products because, frankly, I’m lazy – but, understand that this is not a criticism of the greasy wonder that is bacon and other meat products.  (Hell, I spent $25 wolfing down a steak (rare) with prawns (had to ask how to eat them) and a pint of Guinness (heaven) when I went into Sydney yesterday. My fellow bar patrons (comprised mostly of construction workers and a couple of businessmen) seemed terribly amused at watching the lone white chick tear into a hunk of meat as big as her head. Hey – sometimes it just needs to be done.)  Now, while Australia has a variety of tasty meat products, I have been sorely disappointed with the lack of beer products at my local super.  I miss micro-brews (which gives me no end of amusement, namely that I’m not homesick for family but for beer). Colorado has a retarded amount of micro-breweries cooking up all manner of delightful, frothy goodness. Granted, some are total crap but many are worth a taste at the very least.

Babies and puppies have nothing on this goodness.

(Random Aside: Mountain Sun in Boulder brews a brilliant Java Porter (on nitro please), Breckenridge Brewery’s Agave Wheat and Oatmeal stout are tasty, Flying Dog has a light German-style Hefeweizen called “In-Heat Wheat” that’s worth a try and Wynkoop’s Chile Beer (I first sampled this brew at the Great American Beer festival last year.  Oh the debauchery…) and Sagebrush Stout are like kisses from Jesus.  But the beer that will forever hold a substantial piece of my heart is Leinenkugel’s Sunset Wheat. Seriously folks, cracking open a bottle of this beer will transport you to a magical land of wonder and goodness, filled with candy streams of chocolate and fluffy rainbow dreams.  Buy buy buy!  Drink drink drink!!!)

But back to the (kinda) original reason for this post.  The irony inherent in my yearning for American brews dovetails nicely with a concept that I learned today, namely that purchasing and consuming goods does more than serve as utility (quenching thirst for example), they also serve as a way to form and shape identity.  That is, being a self-proclaimed beer aficionado plays a role in the creation of my identity, both in this pseudoanonymous blog and in the “real world”.

For example, I don’t like “frilly girly drinks” and am too cheap (especially in Australia, yikes!) to drink hard liquor, so I choose beer 90% of the time.  I would argue however, that my taste for beer is less a product of a biological “taste” (literally.  How many times have you heard someone say “Its an acquired taste” when they first try beer) and more a product of social interaction and bias; namely that I associate “frilly girly drinks” with a high-maintenance “stuck-up” class of people (think Sex in the City, a show that makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs) and beer drinking with lower-class working people with whom I want to identify.  Sort of a “girl-next-door” thing – the cool chick who hangs with the boys after a hockey game, shooting the shit and drinking a cold one.

It should also be noted that beer drinking/consumption plays a huge role in roller derby culture, another group with which I readily identify (both leagues that I’ve skated with were sponsored by at least one brewery).  It would be very weird ordering and drinking a Cosmo or a martini after skating in a bout and I can’t remember a time that a fan/friend bought me anything but beer during derby events.  The closest I’ve come to a “frilly girly drink” is a gin and tonic or a whiskey and coke – both of which, I’d argue, are still in the realm of the working class identity.

One really interesting thing that I’ve noticed here in Australia is that my roommates have a totally different view on what constitutes snooty beer consumption.  My bottles of Coopers Sparkling Ale and James Squire are seen as high end beer, while the Tooheys and Victoria Bitter (Yanks, think Coors and Bud) they consume by the case is considered appropriate for college students looking for a cheap buzz.

This delineation is not something new – microbrews are often associated with young, white, middle-class psudo-intellectuals; the college aged hipsters and the up-and-coming 30-somethings (holy hyphens Batman!) who are not too old to get thrashing drunk but are old enough to have some level of “taste” (which brings up another topic for discussion – status, distinction, education and the upper echelons of society; not going into that now).

I’d also like to note that there are some fascinating implications about gender roles and the masculine and feminine branding in alcohol consumption (the fact that I identified a drink as “girly” and therefore negative is ironic, I know) but I’ll not get into that now.  Must do homework.

Or not.

Ok.  One last thing on consumption.  I’m always interested in the marketing and branding of the female body (and the male body to some degree) in advertisement (thanks mom for dealing with all of my diatribes in high school regarding this very subject) and I am utterly fascinated with the Australian based “Gods of Football” campaign.

Gods of SOMETHING.

This project allows voters to choose male players from both league and Australian rules footy teams for calenders, books, posters and all manner of products that are sold, with some profits given to charitable organizations.  Unfortunately, the official website does not go into the specifics of the charitable support, apart from mentioning the McGrath Foundation and “Naked for a Cause” (oh how my ears perked up to that) and I’m always a little leery when it comes to this sort of thing, especially when celebrities are involved.

This quote taken directly from the website also got me going:

“Gods of Football…is the first brand to market Australia’s best-looking sportsmen in a way which fuses sport, style and and sex to give mass market appeal while at the same time supporting charitable causes.  Only the best-looking players as voted by the public, or former winners of the Sexiest Man in the League competitions are eligible to join Gods of Football.”

Wait – what sport?  The only think sporting about these photos is the assumption that the viewer knows the featured men are rugby players.  There is no sporting equipment or football paraphernalia associated with the photos.  And style?  The guys are naked – the only article of clothing shown is the boxer short placed just so to prevent the consumer from getting what he/she really paid for (har har har).

It's a hard job, but I do it for anthropology.

What is interesting from this consumer’s perspective is that I’m not particularly attracted to hairless muscle-bound hunks.  (They’re too clean for me no matter how much fake dirt you smear on them – I’m all about the snarky goofball.  You know the type, a total goober, decidedly intelligent – think Erik Thomson in Packed to the Rafters). 

My friends tell me I have horrible taste in men.

But I still experience those thrilling little gasps of delight when I see pictures like those featured in Gods of Football and I was $45.00 away from buying a calender (forty.  five.  dollars.) Why?  Am I socially conditioned to become excited when I see idealized male bodies blatantly objectified?  Does the real excitement lie with the novelty of seeing these men?  Or (getting back to the discussion at the beginning of this post) was my mental desire for purchasing inorexibly tied in with the visceral desire for sex that seeing these men generated?

It’s a beautiful marketing ploy – play on both the erotic desires (that is, the purely sexual thrill of seeing hot naked men) of your audience while playing on the idea of consumer lust and desire for the object/purchase itself.  Brilliant.  Hell, I’m a total tight-wad with money and (again) I almost dropped almost $50 on this damn thing.

Terrible.

Well, food for thought.  Drop me a comment and let me know if you think I’m just talking out of my ass.  Because I do that a lot.

[Right.  This post is not really related to Australia or my travelling about Australia.  Unfortunately, I am not nearly as mobile here as I was in Japan and Mongolia so I'm afraid that my posts might not be filled with the photos and descriptions that you're used to.  But I do think these musings about things that related to Australia in some way (ie Gods of Football) are at the very least, interesting for you my awesome readers.]