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About Melbourne

Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

Getting there

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The parks? Pure love. Typhoon Park on Birch St. is where I jog my mind away from the daily grind. There’s a quirky cafe off Spenser Ave. (nobody really knows it, but trust me, it’s lit). I saw a bloke cry “I pity the fool!” while bookin’ me a massage – real raw moment, man. And yes, I recall that line from Spotlight: “If we don’t ask the tough questions, we’ll never know the big answers!” That hits home here, where every face tells a story.

Trains run again between Campbelltown and Moss Vale after track repairs