I'm in Australia and I must say it is quite a headfuck. I'd never understood before what the F-word had tried to explain about how far away you feel from everything. But after spending a week in Singapore, the most exotic place I've ever been and probably in the running for the most exotic place in the world based on how fucking cosmopolitan it is, and then getting off a plane eight hours later in a place that looks like Canada with more money and less cold - well, my head is fucked. The fact that I know more about this continent geologically, environmentally and historically than anywhere I've actually lived probably is making the headfuck more extreme. I'm pretty happy though, or I would if the headcold I'd fought off over the time in Singapore through a religious diet of various kinds of fucking spicy food hadn't kicked in with a vengeance. Oh well.
Anyways, nobody here can tell I'm not American, so I've decided to deal with my head being fucked and my fundamental Canadian anti-Americanism by giving random Australians stories about retarded Americans to take home to their families. For example, this afternoon we went to a bakery and I got a drink, and asked if they happened to have straws. They did, and then I made a big fuss about how Australia has straws, and everybody laughed, except the F-word, who turned bright red. Maybe I should save my idiocy for the moments he's not actually around.
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