Aussie Word of the Day.

I love my friends.
I especially love them when they use Aussie colloquialisms in casual conversation. Those little words from my homeland, slipping from the mouth of an American is blissful. I feel like I am propagating little Aussieisms in the boroughs of New York City and when I hear those planted words coming back to me, it lulls my homesickness and cocoons me.
Silly little words that make me feel good.
So, because of the profound effect hearing those little words has on me I have decided to do a thing on my blog devoted to my Motherland Slang.

Fanging, Fangin'

To travel at high speed.
" aw , mate I was fangin' the Monaro down the highway"

If you have read previous posts, you should know what a Monaro is.
If you don't then read the back blogs baby.

What I Saw On Maple Street

I wanted to write about this earlier, as soon as I got in the door from my Thanksgiving getaway, but I was still in shock about it, so I had to wait a few days.
The story goes like this...

I was walking back from the Q train stop, lugging my TG backpack and guitar case. Craving a high colonic and a good lay down.
I love that Q train, it gets me home fast, but I have to walk for a good 10 minutes to get to my door afterwards, but it stil beats the 2 train.
So I am strolling down the big arse avenue sized blocks, its dark but not cold. In front of me is this younger woman with amazingly tight jeans on, they are light blue this has nothing to do with the story but she sticks in my mind, like a thought stutter...cute blue jeans, cute , cute blue, blue blue jeans.
As I am crossing Bedford st, I hear a slapping sound, bare flesh on flesh. Then again it could be someone snapping a belt. Then as I step onto the pavement I realise it is coming from the mini van that is parked in the darkness near a fire hydrant. The door is open, the sliding side door. I walk past it and turn my head to look inside, as you do when you see an open door. There in the shadows of the mini van I see a man on his knees wearing only a undershirt and socks, he is spanking a woman who is positioned over the backseat wearing a blue top and nothing else.
It was over quickly, one quick voyuer stride.
The light blue jeaned woman ahead of me, was obviously having a thought stutter of her own... Bare bums, penis, penis, penis, bum bum bum. Her rhythmic steps have become a confused shuffle. She turns around to see me, I am smiling because I was considering turning back and having a real look.
"Did I just see what I think I saw?"
" Yeah, pretty much" I answer, the woman continues for a few steps thinking outloud.
"Why they be doin' that stuff on the street, damn freaky old people"
Damn Freaky Old People Indeed.
I told my Super about it yesterday and he said
"Dat kind of ting would happen all dah time, make yah art flutter. Sex was evrywhere"
He then looked a bit sad when I asked him what stopped it, his answer was one word
"Guilianni"

Last night I rode my bike back from the Tea Lounge, I would be fibbing if I told you that I didn't look around for that midnight blue Town and Country van. I will continue to do so too, after all they gave me a great story and wrapped up my Thanksgiving in novel way, welcoming me back to brooklyn with bare bums and slapping.
Cheers, you Freaky Old People.