(My husband still gives me dark looks and calls me a heathen when I order an Aussie burger with the lot.
He will eventually be converted.)Much as you may not be able to tell apart a Sydneysider from a Melbournite, we can.
Tom Brady is, on a fundamental level, a pussy, and we are unlikely to be convinced otherwise without a considerable amount of brainwashing.
It's one of the reasons the food's so good — everybody lives there.
Eurovision is an incredibly strange song contest and European tradition that, for some reason, has been utterly beloved by Australians for years. We love it so much we managed to get our own contestant, despite being as far away from Europe as it's possible to be.
It's strange, and several anthropology Ph Ds are probably being written about it, but it's just a thing. If we say we once had one, we're f*cking with you or making fun of your drunken friends.
(Koalas, incidentally, have an incredibly high rate of syphilis and would make very poor pets.) Our wildlife stories will probably be a lot less benign — like that time a kookaburra bashed a snake to death on my terrace, or the summer a possum drowned in my pool. But he wasn't the sensation in Oz that he was in the U. You can't get away with taking us to some sh*tty Chinese joint with gloopy, violent-orange sweet and sour sauce and think we'll be impressed.
Irwin was basically packaged as an American export. S., so we may not have many opinions about him if you bring him up. This edict stretches to most kinds of cuisine: the immigrant community means that we've probably tasted it before it even reached your city in its street-food van.