If I were to wake one morning, take a shower, dry myself in front of the mirror, only to be horrified at the thick, carpet of hair covering the entirety of my back, I would be shocked. Obviously.

If I were to walk down the street only to see a billboard reading, “We buy all thick carpets of back hair for a freakishly huge price” I would say, “This was meant to be.”

I do not like the casual shoulder shrug of a throw away comment like, “Everything happens for a reason.” I hate that phrase. I do. I am the ant who tries to move a rubber tree plant. I do have high hopes. Even though everyone knows an ant CANT move a rubber tree plant. So, when shit falls apart (and shit always falls apart) I believe it probably did happen for a reason. But dont tell me that shit. I hate hearing it. Especially when I gotta a case of the mean reds.

So I won’t say it happened for a reason but I will say that on Wednesday, at 9am I nonchalantly emailed an advertising agency here in perth. Now, I dont have a right to work in OZ and I George Costanza’d the shit out of the email: [[Im going through a weird divorce. I have only my skills. No one can give me a work visa. Probably gonna get deported after court hearing…yaadaa yaaadaaa yaaadaa…]]

By Thursday, I sat in an office that Google would envy. Urban. Gritty. Hip. Awesome. The Company’s philosophy, predominately displayed above the hipster anti-retro retro reception read: “Fuck the Rules”.

Oh, baby.

I George Costanza’d the interview as well. “I pretty much lived on my moms couch till I was 30. I only got a degree thing in Graphic and Web Design to get back at an ex boyfriend who was rubbish….I really only recall Vampire Literature from my online classes…My grammar is no good, if an editor isnt around i might as well not bother writing…..I eat too much chocolate….My husband is cheating on me…. “

45 minutes later: “Right then, start on Monday.”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Das hows I dos. MC8 dont mess around.

Creative Director liked my work. They will get started on trying to get me a work visa. Stoked is my middle name.

A copywriter for an Ad Agency? Hmmmm….dare I draw upon fictional references?

So, in the meantime, I will be interning unpaid since the whole visa thing takes a while. However, I get to get out of the house, keep my skills on point and not get rusty, actually build “REAL AD AGENCY EXPERIENCE” which soooo many jobs ask for, meet people and have somewhat of a life while I learn more about ad agency stuff.

The bad news is that the court situation is dragging on. Obviously this sucks so I really have no arrival back in the states date. I really miss everyone and everything VERY much. I cry sometimes because I miss SD. I do. But let’s be adults here: I could scamper back home, hang out on moms couch, look for work on craigslist and find a less than stellar gig (if any at all) or I could wrap up this husband scene, make crazy loot, gain amazing experience and come back faster, better, stronger, blacker than every before.

The little baby’s all growns up. Im all growns up now. I doubt it will be a year but if it is, it is. I want to be home ASAP but $ talks bullshit walks. And besides, let’s face it, at our old ass ages, one year is NOTHING.

Or— as everything happens for a reason, I may be on a plane next week. Life is proving to throw amazing curveballs at me and i may email you from Norway in a month. Who knows. All I know is I always know where home is and I will be back soon enough to buy everyone a Loveboat Sushi!