I missed y’all
Okay, So I’ve Been On Holiday. Sue Me
You walk away for five minutes, and the whole shithouse goes up in flames
I was determined that I wouldn’t touch Medium nor that gaslighting husband of a social media app known as Twatter while I was away. And, for the most part, I succeeded.
And look, I know that everyone had nothing better to do for the first ten days of March than walk madly in circles and think,
‘Where the fuck is Frank T Bird? Is HE DEAD?’
If you MUST know, I went to Tasmania
That’s an island off Australia that is technically still part of Australia but is often mistaken for New Zealand by various Australians. It’s like the wild west with a casual mix of psychotic hillbillies, weird-looking birds (Actual feathered birds, not women) and panoramic views that will literally make you shit blood.
My wife and I visited her Mum, who was having surgery. Still, we took our chances to roll around to a few places as well. We ate the shit out of some food. We enjoyed the rather British feeling of Hobart, which included seagulls that sound exactly like British seagulls and ‘British style’ bumblebees rather than the aggressive XXXX drinking, vegemite loving bees found on mainland Australia.
We took a drive up a terrifying mountain
The mountain was much higher than it seemed from the ground — stupidly high. At some point, I asked my wife what the fuck we were doing driving along the edge of a mountain in the motherfucking sky.
I experienced full vertigo for the first time in my life, so that’s another first. Who said people stop discovering new things as they get older?
I also experienced the day ferry, which upfront did not excite me.
In deciding on the ferry, I explained to my wife that, while a plane is riskier, instant death is much more likely in the event of a disaster. And that is a GOOD thing.
You crash on a plane and yer fucked unless,
- You’re Liam Neeson in The Grey and you end up getting chased by wolves
- Or yer Tom Hanks in Castaway, and you end up having a homosexual relationship with a netball.
Still, such events are unlikely.
On a boat, though, you crash, and yer end up floating in the middle of the ocean and getting yer feet bitten off by Jaws.
That’s not my cup of tea. I’d rather headbutt the ground at 200mph thanks.
But Im married, and my wife fears flying, so we took the motherfucking boat for nine hours rather than the forty-minute plane ride. And look, once you’ve crapped yer daks at every clunk and creak for a couple of hours, you get used to it. I don’t understand why the fuck people go on cruises, but still, I would catch the ferry again.
We also drank cider and checked out a few second-hand shops. Please see below.
I got back from Tasmania with my heart filled with joy and my lungs filled with hope.
Inspired to start a new healthier life, I kicked off with a dumbbell session. And sure, 5kg dumbells, low reps, few sets, what can go wrong?
The next day I woke up unable to move my arms and with the pain of a thousand waxed ballsacks in each of my elbows.
Since I have put on weight, wiping my arse has become tremendously hard. But when your arms don’t work, it’s fucking impossible. I yelled at my wife for ridiculing my idea to install a bidet. Then I dosed up on Nurofen and focused on reading rather than writing.
But I walked back into a shitstorm
A glance on Twitter, and I saw a Reuben Salsa and Hogan Torah mud wrestling in bikinis cos Reuben did a satirical piece bagging out shitty men and our shitty ways, and Hogan thought Reuben needed tits and high heels to write it.
I got stuck in and thought to myself, I missed these weird bastards.
I realised this shit ain’t so much about the money for me though it’s nice n’all. It’s about getting to know a few key players.
Medium is social, and I have fuck all friends in real life since I have a habit of ignoring people till they give up being my friend. I also have a habit of dodging anyone I know who I see in public.
It’s why I still wear a mask. I don't give a fuck about COVID, I just don't want to be recognised by Jim Arnold, the strange fucker from that call centre in 2001 where I got sacked for wanking in front of my female supervisor.
I don’t think it’s only me. It’s a 2022 thing. Yep, let’s say it’s a 2022 thing.
Right?
Don’t answer that cos I don’t give a fuck.
Just know It’s good to be back, and between my hectic life trying to wipe my arse and not die from being a fat bastard, I will try and write some shit and read some of yours.
That’s it. In case you were wondering, I’ve been on holiday, but Im back. And now, in the words of Uncle Buck,
“Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face! Good day to you, Madam.”
