Everybody needs holidays. Some of us need them more often than others. If I don't have a holiday every few months at least, I start entertaining thoughts of regicide. Everybody needs sex as well. If I don't have any sex for a few months at least, I start entertaining thoughts about how sexy donkeys are. Neither holidays nor sex have been on the menu since Rachel chose to cook up her own good times on the other side of the country.
Nothings insurmountable when you have a recklessly cavalier attitude towards saving money. Rudd's handout got blown on hangovers. Weekly pay checks routinely suffer the same fate. So now, my sizeable tax return is being waxed on a trip east to ensure the safety of my standing in the community, and that of the monarchy. Who ever thought Bowen would have enough to tempt me back into its humid embrace? I had entertained the idea of returning, proving a disturbing degree of desperation, and doing so now further insinuates a moral decline.
If my iniquitous tendencies needed further demonstration, they were playing on constant loop when two friends returned to Broome to get loose with Pimp Daddy H and his party posse of bunnies. That period was defined by a whole lot of things I can't really remember. The dressing gown made an appearance or two, contradicting the noticeable increase in temperature recently. I passed on my party beret only to be given another, more dapper one soon after. I made an absolute donkey of myself without needing to be seen casting amorous looks in the direction of one.
Thanks to that cancerous ball in the sky, I am forced to remember one thing we did every time I move a muscle. A quick dip in the sea turned into a two hour body surfing fest that made me a red, glowing advertisement for the necessity of sunscreen. Another cheap body board snapped in half under my expanding girth and cannoned me into the ocean floor to disprove all previous claims of competency. Like the cheap crap I snapped in Orbost, this waste of $25 also got used for sand dune surfing. That description would be appropriate if the board hadn't stuck like glue to the dune and given me another chance to perfect my funny face-plant routine.
So I am currently beetroot red and either sunstroke, sand blasting or just my own stupidity is to blame. It makes avoiding gym all the easier, which I haven't needed a reason for in years anyway. The aforementioned expanding waist line required taming lest my next encounter with my girlfriend becomes the last one. A love affair with mixed martial arts, or UFC, had me hoping for a six pack, jaw dropping guns and the ability to kick someone's head clean off within three weeks. That could have been remotely possible if I went to gym more than four times in those three weeks.
Token efforts to exercise aside, I continue to ride my push bike enough to keep a relatively humanoid shape. That fell by the wayside as well when three scooters were hired by various occupants of the house. Scooters are the vehicle of choice for tourists and bored hospital staff alike and are constantly seen or heard zipping around town in 2 stroke surround sound. The number of crashes our house alone was responsible for should have been enough to scare off someone so morbidly afraid of those 2 wheeled, open air coffins. Being able to wind style my afro while preserving beer flavoured calories for the more arduous task of cleaning dishes, the temptation to burn fossil fuels instead was too great to resist. Through absolute paranoia I was able to maintain the scooters vertical orientation the whole time, but a few drivers have good reason to still be cursing some muppet who nonchalantly zig-zagged down the road in front of them.
So I'm about to fly to Darwin and then Cairns to hire a campervan for three weeks. Rachel will be picking melons for most of the time I am there, freeing me up for some quality 'me time' as well. Seeing as it will be the latest of many close encounters with bankruptcy, I'll have to use that time to cook up another method of spectacularly failing to save any money. I have a few more days left to enjoy my Broome based bankruptcy before Bowen's local economy gets a bit of my hardly earned biscuits. I think I'll do that by watching the last half hour of the movie 'Clerks 2' a few more times.
