Things I Miss.

I have been away from the United States for approximately 8 months. For the most part I have really enjoyed my time abroad, but all the same there are certain things a blue-blooded American starts to miss about home that you just can't get anywhere else in the world. Following will be a rambling mess of tear-stained nostalgia that will make most of you who know me wonder who dragged the old Drew out of bed at night and shot him.
The thing I miss the most about America is big vehicles. I can't help but think about how all Australians are, deep down, big pussies because they drive silly little cars. I remember t he big Silveradoes and Tahoes and Suburbans rolling around like tanks on the streets of the homeland and it makes me think that if the U.S. didn't step up and defend against the terrorists, I don't think the little Mazda-driving rest of the planet would be much help in the matter. There isn't even a booming spray-on truck bed liner industry here, which makes me wonder if this is even a democratic country at all.
I also miss big, greasy, carbohydrate-loaded, horse-killing breakfasts. The kind where you get a side of pancakes with a half-pound gravy-covered bacon, sausage, ham, and cheese omelette. A breakfast that will break even the most stalwart of humans and, as I said before, horses. This is the type of American breakfast that would be enough caloric intake for an entire tribal village in Rwanda, but obese families all over Iowa, Texas, and South Carolina will put away a half-dozen of these bad boys after sitting through an hour-long church service on Sunday morning. Nothing builds a hunger in a 300lb. human like sitting for one hour and listening to a preacher talk about how you should feed the poor. I mean, can't that guy speed it up? I've got a cup of sausage gravy to drink.
While traveling one tends to miss the big things, like trucks and breakfasts, and overlook the little things, like crystals of methamphetamines. You just can't get a good tooth-scratching high going in Australia like you can in the trailer parks littered across the great territories of America. I've tried a plethora of replacements but nothing comes close to making me want to steal my girlfriend's car and drive it over spike strips for my next hit like the homegrown stuff does. Oh well, we can't all be happy all the time.