esIt's been raining a lot in Auckland recently, not that I mind. When I talk to people back home and hear that it's 100 degrees outside and the air conditioner is working harder than the pixilation artist on Girls Gone Wild, it doesn't bother me as much. Winter in the Southern Hemisphere ends mid-September. So I'll have two months of glorious Spring before I come back home to find...Winter. So I suppose I successfully ditched Summer and its god awful, scorching Carrie Underwood-levels of hotness. But then again, I'm still pretty pasty and haven't gotten my classic July farmer's tan.
It's actually quite pleasant when you break it down. It rain starts at night, right before I go to bed so the raindrops sing me to sleep. And when I wake up, the world is sunny and dewey, like Malcolm's kid brother. It's the best of both worlds, sleeping through the bad parts. Kind of like falling asleep at a U2 concert when Bono starts sermonizing about Africa and waking up as he hits the high note in "One." Or watching Howie Mandel ask "Deal or No Deal," skipping the annoying delibreation with idiot relatives, and then waking up in time for the models opening the briefcase. Or watching the first five minutes of "House," skipping the pointless half hour in the middle, and then waking up for the dramatic diagnostic reveal. (A lot of references, I know. But I came up with so many good ones that I didn't want to play favorites and deprive you of any).
Clouds and I have had a rocky, Ross and Rachel sort of relationship. I first learned to be wary of them when I saw Winnie the Pooh masquerade as a little black rain cloud in some sort of black-ops mission to siphon off honey from the bees' reserve. Then I became deathly afraid when I realized that aliens could invade earth by coming down in chubby raindrops. And most recently, Mr. Eko got mauled to death by a giant black smoke cloud.
But in New Zealand, I've come to appreciate rain a bit more.
Earlier this semester, I went to Eden Park to see the All Blacks play the Wallabies in a test rugby match. Yes, that was the Facebook photo that many of you mistook for my membership in the Raider Nation. The game wasn't much to write home about (whole lot of running, not a lot of scoring...kind of like a classic Ben Fawkes Saturday night. ZING!). But the atmosphere was insane. You've got a packed stadium in the pouring rain. And I mean driving, gale force, hypothermia-inducing rain that would have caused Steve Carell to start building an ark.
And it seems that everything is a bit more exciting in the rain. Walking home becomes an exercise in not slipping on your ass. Watching a movie inside feels more cozy when you're waiting out a storm. And it simply feels more alive than 24/7 sunshine like in Los Angeles.
Well, every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose.
-MGD
That's what she said of the day:
(After swimming in the ocean)
I need to get this salty taste out of my mouth!
It's actually quite pleasant when you break it down. It rain starts at night, right before I go to bed so the raindrops sing me to sleep. And when I wake up, the world is sunny and dewey, like Malcolm's kid brother. It's the best of both worlds, sleeping through the bad parts. Kind of like falling asleep at a U2 concert when Bono starts sermonizing about Africa and waking up as he hits the high note in "One." Or watching Howie Mandel ask "Deal or No Deal," skipping the annoying delibreation with idiot relatives, and then waking up in time for the models opening the briefcase. Or watching the first five minutes of "House," skipping the pointless half hour in the middle, and then waking up for the dramatic diagnostic reveal. (A lot of references, I know. But I came up with so many good ones that I didn't want to play favorites and deprive you of any).
Clouds and I have had a rocky, Ross and Rachel sort of relationship. I first learned to be wary of them when I saw Winnie the Pooh masquerade as a little black rain cloud in some sort of black-ops mission to siphon off honey from the bees' reserve. Then I became deathly afraid when I realized that aliens could invade earth by coming down in chubby raindrops. And most recently, Mr. Eko got mauled to death by a giant black smoke cloud.
But in New Zealand, I've come to appreciate rain a bit more.
Earlier this semester, I went to Eden Park to see the All Blacks play the Wallabies in a test rugby match. Yes, that was the Facebook photo that many of you mistook for my membership in the Raider Nation. The game wasn't much to write home about (whole lot of running, not a lot of scoring...kind of like a classic Ben Fawkes Saturday night. ZING!). But the atmosphere was insane. You've got a packed stadium in the pouring rain. And I mean driving, gale force, hypothermia-inducing rain that would have caused Steve Carell to start building an ark.
And it seems that everything is a bit more exciting in the rain. Walking home becomes an exercise in not slipping on your ass. Watching a movie inside feels more cozy when you're waiting out a storm. And it simply feels more alive than 24/7 sunshine like in Los Angeles.
Well, every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose.
-MGD
That's what she said of the day:
(After swimming in the ocean)
I need to get this salty taste out of my mouth!
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