Port Macquarie: The Completely Paula Truth.
I was at my granny's place in country town Wauchope, just doing the usual tricks in her sitting room. These 'tricks' consist of eating all her organic peanut butter, terrorising the dog with backward petting and making jokes about how fat it is (but seriously, granny, that dog is reaching oompa loompa status), and eating all of her mandarins. You'd think my life is all about food. Well, let's be completely Paula about it. It pretty much is.
Aaaaaaaanyway, as I was saying, I noticed a little brochure for my hometown, Port Macquarie. It was all promoting all the places to go, things to do and see, and it was presented very elegantly, with that modern feel to it as if it was a monthly magazine.
Port Macquarie? It's kinda great - IF YOU WANT NOTHING TO DO. Still, us locals and those disillusioned tourists we all know and love come here for some reason or another, and we all somehow find things to do to pass the time.
Lucky for you, I am pretty much a god when it comes to making something out of nothing. So I am slowly and surely compiling an "honest, no porky-pies guide to Pazza McYew" over the next few weeks whilst I have shit all to do as I wait for my visa to paradise (actually Paris, the city of love, lights, bread and piss-scented metro stations).
I'll be covering the best eats, sips, hangover cures, tuesday night cheap deals, seats in the cinema, ways to avoid $2 Sheryl (coz face it, that bitch has eaten enough Mickey D's fries), ways to waste a Thursday's dole payout doing mainies in Port Central, places to take a good Instagram photo, chicken schnitty meals, and loads more time-waisting yet time-productive and memory-making adventures in this town that each year manages to have less and less "tourist attractions", and more and more attempts to fluff on about creative arts and random shit that won't keep the attention of people my age who really just want to get blindly drunk, achieve melanoma status under the summer sun or find something to take an off angle photo of with their iPhone, on which to use the Kelvin filter (that's a joke, people, we all know Kelvin Filter is just Instagram's way of punking us. "HAHA DEAL WITH THIS FILTER YOU'LL NEVER USE, ASSHOLES!" I love how much I fit into my own Gen-Y stereotyping. Peace out, brothers).
But honestly, I must come here for a reason. And I manage to find beauty, adventure, and a cup or seventy five of gosh-darn fine tasting coffee. And it's time to put that bullshit about "hey come, it's a great place for all ages because we have dis n' dis n' dis n' dis.... and yep come lol" when really you don't want thousands of scenic walks thrown at you, you want to know where to get the best hangover food or how to avoid school-aged children on their holidays whilst you've got a hangover.* So, stay tuned for a link to the new page I will put up. There will be less of my French for you to pardon (aka, language and allusions to anything disgustingly politically incorrect), and more of a witty attempt at salvaging this town's reputation as "where people go to die". Because let's be honest, our cemetery ain't that big.** And hey, maybe if I get a good enough response, I'll make a Hello Sandwich-inspired little booklet that the Glasshouse can add to their collection of shit-ly put together brochures on the myriads of overpriced attractions PMQ has to offer! Yippeeeeeeee!
*Unfortunately I cannot guarantee a prevention from the hangover, other than stay in and watch reruns of Keenan and Kel (actually, that's a brilliant idea. Genius).
** I'm sorry, I really should behave myself.
Aaaaaaaanyway, as I was saying, I noticed a little brochure for my hometown, Port Macquarie. It was all promoting all the places to go, things to do and see, and it was presented very elegantly, with that modern feel to it as if it was a monthly magazine.
Port Macquarie? It's kinda great - IF YOU WANT NOTHING TO DO. Still, us locals and those disillusioned tourists we all know and love come here for some reason or another, and we all somehow find things to do to pass the time.
Lucky for you, I am pretty much a god when it comes to making something out of nothing. So I am slowly and surely compiling an "honest, no porky-pies guide to Pazza McYew" over the next few weeks whilst I have shit all to do as I wait for my visa to paradise (actually Paris, the city of love, lights, bread and piss-scented metro stations).
I'll be covering the best eats, sips, hangover cures, tuesday night cheap deals, seats in the cinema, ways to avoid $2 Sheryl (coz face it, that bitch has eaten enough Mickey D's fries), ways to waste a Thursday's dole payout doing mainies in Port Central, places to take a good Instagram photo, chicken schnitty meals, and loads more time-waisting yet time-productive and memory-making adventures in this town that each year manages to have less and less "tourist attractions", and more and more attempts to fluff on about creative arts and random shit that won't keep the attention of people my age who really just want to get blindly drunk, achieve melanoma status under the summer sun or find something to take an off angle photo of with their iPhone, on which to use the Kelvin filter (that's a joke, people, we all know Kelvin Filter is just Instagram's way of punking us. "HAHA DEAL WITH THIS FILTER YOU'LL NEVER USE, ASSHOLES!" I love how much I fit into my own Gen-Y stereotyping. Peace out, brothers).
But honestly, I must come here for a reason. And I manage to find beauty, adventure, and a cup or seventy five of gosh-darn fine tasting coffee. And it's time to put that bullshit about "hey come, it's a great place for all ages because we have dis n' dis n' dis n' dis.... and yep come lol" when really you don't want thousands of scenic walks thrown at you, you want to know where to get the best hangover food or how to avoid school-aged children on their holidays whilst you've got a hangover.* So, stay tuned for a link to the new page I will put up. There will be less of my French for you to pardon (aka, language and allusions to anything disgustingly politically incorrect), and more of a witty attempt at salvaging this town's reputation as "where people go to die". Because let's be honest, our cemetery ain't that big.** And hey, maybe if I get a good enough response, I'll make a Hello Sandwich-inspired little booklet that the Glasshouse can add to their collection of shit-ly put together brochures on the myriads of overpriced attractions PMQ has to offer! Yippeeeeeeee!
*Unfortunately I cannot guarantee a prevention from the hangover, other than stay in and watch reruns of Keenan and Kel (actually, that's a brilliant idea. Genius).
** I'm sorry, I really should behave myself.
