La premiere poste

Hello, anyone who may be reading this thing. I don't really get the concept of this, so i will kinda use this as a diary... type... thingy. I apologise in advance for my rambling and if i ever use Aussie words that any of you Americans might not get.
I just want to give you one piece of advice... never trust green utes (do you call them that in America?). Ever. They will inevitably contain MIDGET-BOGANS.
Yes. Midget-bogans. They DO exist.
Okay, so, here's the story. I don't care if you don't want to hear it, because this blog is not interactive.

So me and my family (Dad, Mum, Luce, Doze) were driving back from our friends' farm. We had been there with our very good friends THE MURRAYS. If you have ever met me you will no doubt know who these lovely people are, but if you haven't, I am sorry, for you will not get the fantastic joke that is the Murrays' name said/typed with great emphasis.

Anyhow... we were driving back on some stretch of country road (for those of you who are from WA, i think it was after Williams and after that poor shell of a Gull station, but that's irrelevant). We see a green ute in front of us. Okay. We see an overtaking lane. Okay. The green ute suddenly zooms past us at about 140 kays an hour. Umm, odd. After the overtaking lane, the green ute slows down to about 70km/h. Also, odd. We look to see if there is a man or a woman driving, and we can't see anyone! We manage to get past them at the next overtaking lane, and see these two incredibly short women in the driver and passenger seats. Oh dear, dear, dear. Big green V8 ute with license plat TOY 69... B O G A N.

So the little Kluger that turned off at Jarrahdale and never saw the big bad ute again. And that was the story of the little Kluger that could.

Little bit of Scrubs wisdom: Never play Operation against a surgeon for money.

Au revoir, mes amis!