I'll eat you up! -Max from Where The Wild Things Are Feat. Madeline

^^ The Parcell clan is taking very seriously our mission to find the very best fish and chips shop. So far I have tried Synnot Street, Kippers, and Point Hook. Point Hook is the greasiest, so naturally, it has my vote for first place.

^^ Because just 8 days from now, I'll be at Margaret Court Arena, tapping my foot and screaming my lungs out to every song they sing. Tappings of feet and screamings of lung don't usually go together, but Imagine Dragons beckons from you a certain, fantastical being that you cannot yourself describe to those who haven't had the privilege of being within their presence. They're, like, super cool.

^^ Those are my knees.

You must understand, the word hangry is such a real thing for me. If I am not fed within a reasonable span of time from the last time I ate a snack or meal, I will lose the ability to converse in a civil way with anyone who dares to speak words in my general vicinity. Pure logic escapes me as nothing is as important as me getting food straight into my mouth as soon as humanly possible. If you are in my company or an obstacle in the pathway to food, you will be injured in some form, be it physically or emotionally.

Sunday’s tend to familiarize themselves with my hangry side all too often. Our church is so odd to me sometimes because one week they’ll have FOUR speakers, (Which is just too many. I have a hard time focusing in church, see above hangry, and especially so here because half of the time, if I’m not staring at the speaker with a pure and real intent to decipher every heavily accented word they are saying, I give up and brush them off as they might as well be speaking jibberish), then the next week it’s two speakers and then they shuffle us all into the cultural hall where I find myself held against my will to sit in an uncomfortably silent training meeting where naturally everyone refuses to make comments until the air becomes stale and a hand is finally raised. It’s pure torture to a tired mind and a very hungry lady. Because I am a lady, you know.

The second problem with being hangry, the first being the physical dangers to self and those within close proximity, is that I end up over eating once I finally, miraculously, obtain food. So. As soon as I set foot into my house I walked BRISKLY to the kitchen, made myself some toast, and while that was toasting, since 30 seconds was far too long to wait, I shoved an apple in my mouth. Then the toast was done, I buttered it and slathered it with jam, ate it quickly, then retrieved my hidden gem of salted caramel cheesecake (Just this huge, two inch thick slice, with a nice layer of caramel on top) and shoveled all but two bites in the large hole that is my mouth.

The two bites were left because with three bites remaining I realized that I was almost dead, as I had just consumed so much food in less than .4 seconds, most of it being a dessert very high in sweet calories, and should definitely cease to continue. So obviously I took one more bite and then … we ended things.

Anyways, that was long and pointless story. Congratulations if you’ve made it to the end. I would reward you with a slice of cheesecake but remember how I ate it all? And here I thought I’d be losing all this weight in Australia because they’re food is so much healthier and less processed but where there’s a Costco, there’s a way.

I’m shipping myself back to the city tomorrow, 20 more resumes in hand, ready to fling them at unsuspecting dental offices. Seriously, there’s got to be someone who could use an extra hand, or at the very least tolerate a walking shadow in scrubs for a month or two so I can finish my internship hours. If worst comes to worst (Or is it worse to worse? I can’t check. We don’t have Internet yet. Hasn’t that been fun.) I’ll have to come home in December, with no money and NO PROSPECTS (Ha, name that movie. Pride and Prejudice. Lizzie I need you.) and start at the bottom of the barrel, again, just like freshman year. Not a penny in my pocket and this undying passion to find a husband.

Have I scared you? Are you still skimming through the long paragraphs? Read the last sentence of the paragraph above and make a story out of it. Then email it to me. If I like it I’ll send you a slice of cheesecake. HA. No I won’t. I ate all of it.

Well I’m done talking and writing blog posts makes me think of writing home, and thinking about the necessity to write to home instead of just be there, makes me sad. I think I’ll leave you now.

MP

P.S. Any book recommendations would be happily accepted. Memoirs, biographies, enthralling novels (No sissy stuff. Just good, grab-you-after-the-first-page novels.)

P.P.S. If anyone is an expert on the usage of parenthesis and punctuation/capitalization within them, please enlighten me. I would look it up but I usually can’t understand things that people try to explain on the Internet. I also don’t have the Internet.

P.P.P.S. Somebody please help me.