3am Thinking

Don't Get Your Toga in a Twist

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I'm not ready to die just yet. I have my reasons. Can you imagine the floral arrangements? I read that when NASCAR driver Davey Allison was buried in Alabama there were black carnations in the shape of a race car, a big wheel, and who knows what else. It wouldn't surprise me if someone had made a set of points and plugs out of rose petals.

Thinking about all this one night, I just couldn't fall asleep. It made me wonder: Why was I worried about floral arrangements when I should be concerned about more important things such as who would inherit my Hyundai Accent with the darkest legal tint? And my Wayne Gretsky ice-hockey card?

That started me thinking about where I'd come from and wondering what had happened to the little boy who grew up three doors down from the end of the Canberra airport runway. Believe me, I know I've come a long way. At least now I don't have to pause midsentence every thirty-five seconds to let a plane go overhead.

I also asked some of my family and friends to add their memories, just to keep me honest. They graciously agreed. Then I changed my mind. It wasn't such a good idea. They remembered lots of stuff about me that I had mysteriously forgotten, and when they reminded me of certain incidents, I suddenly remembered why. So what if I once rode a pig bareback? And a goat. Just don't ask to see the pictures.

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Since you're reading this, I'm assuming that you want to come in, kick back, and stay a while. That's fine with me. We're casual here. There are no rules to remember, no obligations, no salesman will come to your door. You don't have to kill or skin or gut anything. (The cane toad hunt comes later and is optional.) The idea is simply to have a good time. If that's not possible, then the idea is to at least get really drunk and think you did.

Either way, I'm hoping that by the time you read the last page, you'll agree that however strange my life sometimes seems, it's really not so strange after all. Whether you're from East London or East Brisbane, I guarantee you'll recognise many funny (okay, disturbing) similarities to your own life, family, and friends. Except for one thing. I'll bet that you've never gotten a gift as weird as the fine home furnishing that my friend in Melbourne recently sent me. Being who I am and hailing from where I do, I knew with absolute certainty that I was the proud recipient of a wonderful and heartfelt tribute. Imagine: a piece of wood that holds paper plates with the phrase "Aussie China Cabinet" carved crudely across the front.

See? I told you it was too early to die.

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