Furiously Happy (23 page)

We were sent to explore the desert and find out what might want to murder us. After an hour of heat we suspected it was Jessica, who kept pointing out new rocks. It was the same rock. I was no fool. Except that I was out in the desert on a forced walk, seeing imaginary snakes in every twig, so all bets were off.

I never saw any live snakes but apparently Australia is lousy with them, and they have so many that even the lizards are snakes. Please note: If you're a lizard but you don't have legs, you are a snake. That's how snakes work.

“I am not a snake.”
This snake is a dirty liar.

It's never
not
snake season in Australia. In Texas in the winter we at least get a break from the scorpions when they all seem to disappear. I assume they must be hibernating with bears, which is sort of terrifying because imagine waking up a cranky bear and he's dripping with angry scorpions. That would be the worst thing ever and,
now that I think about it
, is probably something that totally exists in Australia.

Laura and I started our walk around the big rock and it was quite enjoyable except for the flies, which followed you in hordes, like an angry entourage intent on setting up house in your nostrils. I just pinched my nose closed at one point and then I accidentally ate two flies. You'd think that would teach the other flies to avoid me, but no. These were stupid, reckless flies following stupid, reckless tourists. We pretty much belonged together.

Uluru was quite cool and a bit mysterious. Laura and I both heard chanting, which we assumed was piped in, but which Jessica assured us was all in our heads. She suspected we were drunk. We weren't, but we appreciated the suggestion and quickly located a pub. We found out that getting drunk in Australia is referred to as “putting on the wobbly boot” and “getting off your face” until you do the “Technicolor yawn,” which I think is the funnest euphemism for vomiting
ever
.

We also learned how to pronounce things with an Australian accent. For example, if you say “Good eye, might” it sounds like “Good day, mate.” Also, “Raise up lights” = “razor blades” and “Dee yoon unduh” = “Down under.” Basically you just clench your teeth like you have TMJ. And drop a lot of “R”s haphazardly. Honestly, Australia is just wasting a lot of its “R”s. It's a little idiculous.

Goal Number 4: Find Out If Kangaroos Really Have Three Vaginas

Did you know that kangaroos have three vaginas? Because they totally do and that's probably why they're always hitting each other. They probably have PMS every damn day of the week. But on the plus side, kangaroos have plenty of places to smuggle things because they have so many holes in their bodies. In fact, they're so full of holes it's sort of shocking that all the kangaroo doesn't just leak out.

Interestingly, female kangaroos have three vaginas, but male kangaroos only have a two-pronged penis. It's like they've started a Darwinian game of one-upmanship and the girls are winning. (Fascinating factoid: Kangaroos also drool on themselves to keep cool [because nothing looks cooler than a drooling kangaroo] but that's helpful to know because when you see them drooling at the mouth it doesn't necessarily mean that they have rabies. It just means they're hot [hot referring to their temperature, not sexiness]. If you find drooling kangaroos sexy you probably need help.)

I wanted to ask the Wild Life Sydney Zoo about whether kangaroos actually do have three vaginas, but they wouldn't even let me touch their koalas so I thought a gynecological exam on a kangaroo was probably out of the question. And also I didn't have my forceps with me. Instead, Laura and I drove into the bush and looked for real, wild kangaroos so I could peer up their bums when they leaned over. I couldn't see anything through the fur, although one of the kangaroos did get an erection. It was pink and not attractive. At least not to me. But then, I'm not a kangaroo. Although I
did
dress like one to put them at ease. Here's a picture of me showing a kangaroo a picture of himself. He was unimpressed. Kangaroos don't understand selfies.

I gave up on my idea of looking at vaginas and I just decided to
be
a kangaroo
better
than a kangaroo. (
Courtesy of Laura Mayes
)

Nailed it.
(
Courtesy of Laura Mayes
)

We also
ate
kangaroo, which I feel a bit bad about. Partially because they're so cute and partially because they taste terrible. Well, maybe not
terrible
, but they taste a lot like blood, because if not served very rare, kangaroo becomes tough as shoe leather. This always seemed a strange analogy to me because when are people eating shoe leather? How do they know what it tastes like? Why not purse leather or pants leather?

Australia is a very strange country because you spend days running around trying to find wild kangaroos so you can see their majesty and then you eat them on a pizza an hour later. Bloody, vampire-friendly pizza. People in Australia really seemed to like kangaroo meat, but the only time I ever had it and didn't hate it was when it was served sliced very thin and drizzled in something alcoholic. I think I only liked it more then because there was so much
less
of it than usual. If they'd sliced it so thin that I could read through it I suspect I'd have liked it even more, and I probably would have even asked for seconds if they'd just waved a fork of kangaroo juice near my lips. Or maybe not. I'm not much of a foodie.

Goal Number 5: Boomerang

We had the opportunity to learn to throw spears in the outback but it was always scheduled right after we'd been drinking. Technically everything was scheduled right after we'd been drinking, but it
was
the outback. There's not a lot to do other than get drunk. I tried a plastic boomerang that was sitting in a bin outside the gift shop but it failed to return and then I realized I'd basically just tossed unpaid merchandise as far as I could throw it. I considered going to get it but then I was concerned that when I picked it up it would be considered shoplifting and it seemed like that would have a stiffer penalty than just throwing merchandise into the desert. So instead I just went inside the gift shop to see if anyone would say anything to me. No one did. Probably because it happens all the time. You can't just leave boomerangs out in the open and expect people not to throw them. It's like Australian entrapment. I thought about paying for the boomerang but then I considered that it didn't come back when I threw it so it was probably broken anyway. If anything I was doing unpaid boomerang testing. Laura didn't entirely agree and thought perhaps my technique was bad, but she'd been in the bathroom at the time so she wasn't really allowed to judge. “Honestly,” I said, “boomerangs are made to make people feel inadequate and unloved. They're supposed to come back but they never do. Boomerangs are like bad, disloyal dogs or hot ex-boyfriends who your mom assures you will return after they realize they've made a terrible mistake in leaving you but they totally don't.”

“I'm pretty sure boomerangs work,” she said, “I've seen them on TV.”

“And I've seen cartoon cats eat an entire pan of lasagna in one bite, but that doesn't mean that you wouldn't kill a real-life cat if you force-fed him that much cheese. Trust me. Boomerangs don't work unless you throw them up.”

Laura stared at me. “Well, there's your problem.”

“No, I mean in the air. Not vomit them up,” I explained.

“Ah.” She nodded. “I was wondering how that would help.”

“
Everything
is a boomerang if you throw it straight up in the air,” I explained.

“Not blimps,” she countered, with surprising speed considering the number of drinks she'd had.

“Touché,” I replied. “I always forget blimps.”

Goal Number 6: Just Get Out the Damn House

This sounds absolutely ridiculous; however, leaving my house was the single hardest part of the whole weird trip. For someone who stays home for weeks at a time and struggles to even have a conversation with the UPS guy, saying yes to leaving my safe place was an achievement. And it was worth it. Sometimes you have to force yourself to leave your house even though every introverted bone in your body wants to secede and make you into a human jellyfish. But I pushed through. And it was amazing. And horrifying. And back to amazing. And weird. And baffling. And fantastic.

We saw dangerous blowholes and hopped with wallabies down the beach and played in tide pools and learned Aboriginal dot painting in the outback and snuggled with camels in the desert. Then we watched six Shakespearean actors simultaneously vomit onstage at the Sydney Opera House. (It was on the small stage though. It was only like, three hundred babies long.)

And it was good.

But I still want to lick David Tennant's face.
1
Get to work on that, England. Australia's in the lead here.

 

Voodoo Vagina

Last week my friend (Kim) mailed me one of her homemade, educational felted vaginas (with a small, felted baby inside of it so children can understand where babies come from). My first thought was that I no longer want to understand where babies come from. My second thought was, “Wait … is this pubic hair real? Because if it is I think I need to wash my hands. Also, isn't that how voodoo dolls are made? I think if you add human hair to a doll it becomes a voodoo doll so logically wouldn't that make this a voodoo vagina? WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING HERE?”

(
Courtesy of
oneclassymotha.com
)

I left the vagina on my desk while I went to get my camera to take a picture of it (because no one would ever believe that I'd gotten a voodoo vagina in the mail and they'd be all, “Pics or it didn't happen”) but when I got back to my desk MY VAGINA WAS MISSING. I mean not
my
vagina. The gifted vagina. (Not that
my
vagina isn't gifted. It's fine.
This isn't a contest.
)