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A Polar Bear Ate My Head aka How to kill 4 hours of a 15 hour flight

Greetings from downtown New York. We’re finally here and settling in quite nicely. The trip from Sydney to New York was supposed to be broken up with a two night stay in Dallas – it ended up being four nights thanks to a certain superstorm. It hasn’t been an easy road – packing your life into four suitcases (plus an extra 3 boxes to be shipped) is incredibly draining, both physically and emotionally. There were tears (everyone), there was a meltdown (me), and then there were more tears (me again) when I realised someone threw my favourite leather boots in the charity bag and I was going to sub-10 degree temperatures with little more than sneakers. There were also tears when the penny dropped re: those sub-10 degree temperatures. It is f’ing cold over here right now, and we have another big storm on the way. I’m going to be blocking and unfollowing a lot of people on Facebook and Instagram just so I don’t get warm weather envy.

A Polar Bear Ate My Head by Paul Merrill

The flight from Sydney to Dallas was pretty bloody excellent though, especially considering it was 15 hours and I am a terrible flyer (not gonna lie – business class helped A LOT). Just before we boarded I popped into the newsagent and grabbed A Polar Bear Ate My Head by Paul Merrill. I was fortunate enough to work with Paul for a while at ACP Mags, and I heard him speak about the book at Mumbrella360 earlier this year. I started the book as soon as we taxied out and couldn’t put it down for four hours straight. I even read through dinner, which was fairly awkward – tray table + trying to hold book = not a winning combo. The book is laugh out loud hilarious, and I was *that person* sitting there audibly guffawing while everyone around me was being all serious and business class-y. I tried to do that weird silent laugh, but I swear that just made it worse. Picture me, extreme silent laughing, doubled over in stitches after reading about Paul being sprung doing a gin-fueled nudie run around the office late one night. This is a total lads book, and I highly recommend it to anyone who has ever read ZOO Weekly, worked in publishing, knows Paul personally, or just likes to laugh. You won’t be disappointed. I paid $31.77 for the book, which I suspect is some weird airport mark-up price – I also paid $4.40 for a bag of Party Mix from the same newsagent (and am now rationing said Party Mix out a few lollies per day) Moral of the story? If you are coming to NY, bring Party Mix.

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