There are lots of benefits to having an Australian boyfriend. One of them is the unfailing funniness of the way he says words like "beer" and "groin" and "shit" - despite his years and years of living abroad and modulating his accent to be comprehensible to Europeans and Canadians, some words, like the three just listed, are said with multiple syllables and vowel sounds that just don't exist in any other mouths I've ever experienced, and it's hilarious. "Beeeeeiiiyaah." Marvellous. (He laughs at the way I say "gazebo", "granola" and "coffee" so it's allowed.)
Another is that being excessively fond of him has made me more interested in the country he comes from, which is interesting in its own right due the bizarre flora and fauna. Take koalas. They're fucking adorable, right? Look at this fucking adorable koala:
Until the F-word started dominating my consciousness I was content to leave it at that - "aw, koalas, adorable" and move my brain along to the next task at hand. But do you know what else about koalas? They're the fucking dregs of society in the classic Daily Mail sense. They spend all day sleeping, getting stoned out of their minds on psychotropic leaves, once in awhile managing to lazily fuck each other without either protection or discretion, and spreading the clap across their population like wildfire. Lazy, venereal disease-ridden junkies. Marvellous. Except it's killing them. And the government isn't going to take it anymore. No special treatment for those nasty little things. Just because everyone adores them doesn't mean they can be filthy decadent hophead sluts and expect the rest of us to clean up after them.
Poor koalas. I still love them.
Well. A nasty little entry about the world's cutest animals dying of the clap was my attempt at an fluffy escape from blogging about how fucked up everything is. Some of you have been sweet enough to worry about me. I'm actually okay, I think - not to worry, at least. We're getting counselling at the office, I have fantastic support from my koala-loving partner, I've been super-touched to have your sweet messages, and this is Belgium, not North America; I can go on stress leave if I need to, and I will if I need to, but right now I don't.
I don't know if it's as morbid as all hell or not, but I worked out that around the time my colleague disappeared, I had this song in my head, and listening to it once every morning, as I'm blogging and getting ready for work, is somehow a massive comfort:
Soon I'll be ready to start thinking about things like the long-term philosophical view about souls over bodies, which gentle Rodelinda, with great emotional delicacy, suggested suggesting. Not yet though. Right now I'll just keep listening to the Final Fantasy song that was stuck in my head when he disappeared, morbid as hell or not.