mercoledì, febbraio 06, 2013

Twitchies

Every time the F-word and I discuss it, it seems our departure date from Australia moves up a little. Good enough reason to discuss it daily. Last night I had a nightmare that I called my message service and my voice had an Australian accent. Retch.

No matter how soon we move, though, I'm starting to be concerned we won't be able to do it before I succeed in offending everybody. Yesterday evening, I asked a friend who's just sent his kid to a private school (as fully 35% of Australian kids are) how his kid's new Krav Maga school was going (it's actually an Ananda Marga school). I thought I was being hilarious but it turns out I wasn't. And in the case of a anti-immunizer whose little girl had come down with whooping cough, when I saw into him in the street before approaching them, I screamed "is she still contagious?"; I was with Godzilla at the time and though he's been vaccinated the hell I'll risk subjecting him to some fucking avoidable hippie germs no matter how embarassing it may be to others. 

And today, I started visiting daycares - Godzilla'll need a couple of days a week next year, if for no other reason than to firm up his immune system and his ladykilling skills - which was interesting. The one with the enormous waiting list was the hippiest hippie place I'd ever seen. It gave me a super-bad vibe, in that hippie sense. You know how hippies sort of twitch a lot even though they do yoga and are meant to be relaxed? I think perhaps the sort of people who are attracted to that sort of thing have a fuck of a lot of noise going on in their heads to drown out with chanting and contorting and shit, and jogging just seems too disco to them or something. Anyways, all the employees were twitching like that. And they were all too skinny. If ever they gave Godzilla a hug I'm concerned it would hurt him.

So halfway through my visit I realized the waiting list was enormous not because it was objectively awesome (the conditions as described were like the other centres I'd been too, except it was darker and dirtier) but because hippies'd like it. Which I announced to the F-word loudly across the parking lot when he came to pick us up. It's the summer here of course so all of the centre's windows were open. Oh well.

You may be noticing a theme here. Which is that I fucking hate hippies, it turns out. I'd always thought I was one and maybe I am. Maybe I'm engaging in a bit of self-loathing here. Which is something to analyze another time. I've got deadline.