A mule...or an ass?

So I recently made up my mind to take the plunge. (No, not that plunge.) After three years of threatening to visit two friends who live in Australia, I decided to take my tax return and purchase a ticket. Now this is no little flight. Oh, no. Just to get to Destination #1, I have to spend 25 hours in three different planes. I'm telling you right now, the only way for me to make it on these long flights is for the flight attendant to keep the wine coming or for me to take loads of Benadryl. I feel like if I don't chemically alter my state of consciousness, I may be hanging from the overhead compartment by my fingernails. Or the other passengers will shove me into one. And I really couldn't blame them.

My two college friends graciously extended invitations for me to stay with them. They pretty much told me that if I could get there, they would give me a place to stay and feed me. Sweet, no? Anyway, my fashion-conscious gay friend decided to use this to his advantage. How you ask?

One afternoon, I arrive home from work to find a package from J. Crew on my kitchen table. Convinced it was for my roommate, I walked away, not the least bit curious. However, upon further contemplation, I realized that she was the one who accepted the package and would have opened it. This needed further investigation. Sure enough! My name was neatly typed above the address. My curiosity peaked and I couldn't wait to see what I didn't remember ordering (because those are the best presents of all!). I fumbled with the mailing tape and peered inside. I was being punked. Surely! Why would I need a men's, size small, cashmere sweater? Then I realized....

Sure enough. My friend is milking this for all it's worth. Apparently clothing is very expensive in OZ and the only solution? Turn the American friend into a clothing mule! Hey. It's safer than drugs. And it's not everyday I get Armani Exchange delivered to my door! His philosophy? He doesn't want to embarrass me by wearing ugly clothing. My thoughts on the matter? I'm going to wear my giant green tutu, tie dye t-shirts,and sandals with socks. Because really? I don't care if we wore a Speedo the whole time. I'm glad to help the guy out.