Saturday, 14 August 2010

America, I Salute You.

America, you don't have any burgers left. I ate them all.

I ate them from the Shake Shack and I ate them from Five Guys and I even sniffed them out from the Burger Joint at Le Parker Meridien Hotel over on 56th.


Australia just does not make that caliber of burger. I believe it's a combination of your potatoes (Idaho), your buns (perfect) .... and whatever it is you feed your cows coz the patties are ridiculous. And made to order. Perfection. I've put on five kilos - my tummy jiggles when I walk. Because we're around the corner from fricken Hershey World and M&M Land as well. Dave and I are eating and shopping machines. I hate myself but I just can't stop. You know when you overeat so much that you can't remember what it's like to feel hungry anymore? Yeah, I'm there.


So I wanted to be all Writer Writerly and write amazing vignettes and swooshes of words that amaze and delight, but I can't. I'm too scattered and jittery. And unorganized, driving Dave nuts. It takes a lot of energy to be a burger-guzzling-manic-inducing-tourist. We are SUCH tourists here! Looking up and making people behind us annoyed. Counting money at the till and then people bank up behind us so we just say fuck it and hand over another note, all the shrapnel untouched in our wallets. Gazing stupidly at all the buildings. Running up to random hispanics in burger places saying "Mate! I thought I had the best burger yesterday until I tried THIS. This burger wins my Best Burger Award!"
And they grin and tell me where the toilet is.

So many things have happened. I have learnt that my husband is a *teeny* bit co-dependant. Like, go away so I can miss you hon, PLEASE.

We had a big fight one day, I was crying and so upset. About the same shit we do at home - respect, child minding/domestic issues, who earns what money and at what cost to the other one's career because SOMEONE has to cook and clean and wash and parent and run the holiday houses but that SOMEONE doesn't get actually *paid* for any of that so apparently it doesn't count.

Sorry, where was I?

Oh yeah - NYC baby, all the way. We leave tomorrow. How am I going to say goodbye to her, this most beautiful Manhattan? I have grown accustomed to her face.

It's been a wild, hectic, fucking crazy ride. But I realised something today - I'm not changed forever. I'm still as fucked up as I always was. Still unkempt and sweaty and loud and gluttonous. Still constipated and hairy and not perfect. Not as good as I wish I was.

I guess it'll have to do.


I'm behind on emails, tweets, DMs, and smoke signals. I don't know why I blog. It's fucking strange. i can't think about how much I miss my boys so I try to push them out of my brain because it hurts too much.

Reminds me of Max's first day at school .... I didn't cry dropping him off, but when I picked him up later that afternoon, I bawled like a baby.

We fly out tomorrow ... to Bali. This is after another stopover in San Francisco - hopefully we'll actually *find* the Golden Gate Bridge this time, instead of finding the Bay Bridge and then wondering why it's not golden.

So that makes another four planes to travel on. What are my odds on surviving?

Goodbye. I can't end this properly because Dave is asleep next to me tossing and turning over the clickety of my computer keys while I'm typing....


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