It's probably Angina. P.S. I'm not a doctor

I've said this many times before, but one more time won't hurt: Things are quite different in Adelaide.  To begin, the time is 4:18pm, a cool 30 minutes behind Sydney, and I'm quite okay with that.  Another thing is Adelaide people call power line poles 'Stobie poles', yet when I was thirsty after a lecture and asked where the nearest bubbler was, all I got from the Adelaidians were peculiar looks as they slowly backed away from me.  They don't know what the hell a bubbler is!  To mention another vocabulary divide: when I say 'That's slack', they don't get it.  They think I'm saying the guy is lazy.

Things are quite different in Adelaide.  But, I must admit, I'm having a good time here.

However, I may or may not be homesick.  I was walking back from uni, and saw a Holden wagon from the distance, and thought to myself: 'Wow...that could be our family car' (nevermind the fact that it is a whopping 1400km from Sydney to Adelaide).  I didn't bother to entertain this impractical hypothesis, 'cos I knew there was no way it was our car.  Okay, fine, maybe I did check the number plate, just in case.  Better safe than sorry.  Stupid wagon, with your stupid numberplate WGE527.  So maybe I'm a little homesick.  Should get one the med students to officially diagnose me.

Speaking of medical diagnoses, apparently the Med students have been focusing on the one heart condition, Angina, over the last few weeks, and this has become a running joke.  Some guy on the road has a cough: 'It's Angina'.  I get a cold last week: 'Bad luck, must be Angina'.  We're watching a war movie in Justin's room, and a guy get's shot in the heart: 'Angina, dayam'.  It will be a day to remember when they can diagnose Angina for someone who is actually suffering Angina, or has appropriate symptoms at least.  I'd buy them a cake.

Also, what's a super yummy cake?  Must get Vish to teach me to make this cake.  I must stop thinking about food when blogging.  Cos now I'm le hungry =(.

Some people in my course went on dent camp over the weekend. Not mentioning any names of the contributors, but they got Fady, a short, gimpy guy who unsettles me, quite epicly drunk.  Clearly not the brightest of chaps, being a first time drinker yet deciding to go shot for shot with Daniel, dishing out some untimely trash-talk 'This is too easy, you [a few choice vulgur words]', minutes before puking it all out.  Then, instead of taking a break, or having some water, he goes right back into the thick of it.

Some vulgar insults from other languages are quite inventive.  Today, Daniel told me of one Serbian insult, which translates to 'Go back into your father's penis'.  Crude, yes; super effective, you bet ya.

I know it's never good to end on vulgar words in any form of conversation, and blog posts are not exempt from this rule.  But I'm out of content to talk about = <.  And I can't even media dump, cos stupid youtube is blocked. 

Sigh.  Be nice to me, I'm still sick =(.  Yes, I'm talking to you, axe-wielding gentlemen in the leftmost aisle seat.  And why do you have an axe?  It doesn't make any sense. 

I promise my next post will not so disappointing.  And hopefully, I'll have more vitality in my post as well.  lololol.

Seeya!

Josh