Am I Interrupting Something?

Tomorrow, I’ll be taking a blog hiatus. Its not because I don’t love you, because you know I love you all. No, it’s because of Lamington.

See, most of you have classes where a handful of exams decides your grade. In my case, its about 2 exams decide my grades. And in one instance, a 6 day field trip to a rainforest, and a report worth 75% of my grade.

Lamington is a sub-tropical rainforest in New South Wales. Cold, wet, leafy, and leech-filled. I will be without TV, without computer, without heat or central cooling, and without shower. The final details of my project have yet to be worked out, but I will either be poking Funnelweb spiders with eyebrow tweezers or investigating Wallaby shit with a nightvision scope. No joke.

So, goodbye my treacherous friends. I’ll see you in a week. I didn’t even get the chance to blog about last weeks’ steamy boy-love yet! Don’t you fret, kiddies; my life is not in short supply of fucked-uppedness.

However, I’d be glad to indulge you in one story for the road.

We went up to Noosa today for a class. Something on plants, doesn’t matter. It was however the first time I’d seen the ocean since arriving. The beach was beautiful. The cliff was breathtaking. The water was the cleanest blue I’d ever seen. In fact, the only thing marring this picture was the handful of naked old men flopping about.

Yes, our class took us to a nude beach.

Don’t think this was a good thing. It would be like going to a strip club, but all the strippers are 50+ geriatrics with sagging tits and a vag loose enough to insert a traffic cone without even grazing the clitoris.

I passed the sand, and scampered up the rocks. Eating M&Ms (my alternative to lunch) in the sea spray was refreshing in this irritatingly hot hike. Then, in typical fashion, I went hunting for crabs. Found a handful, but nearly all of them were dead. Just sitting there in a natural pose, no obvious predator hole. I became less trusting of the water.

Behind me, two TAs were sitting on the rocks and talking. I came over, holding two dead crabs, and asked them why they thought they were dead. No idea. I moved on, continuing to dig up crustaceans and crabs, only vaguely aware they were making out next to me.

Afterwards, walking back to the bus, two girls came up to me with icy glares. I couldn’t figure it out. “How could you butt in like that?!” one exclaims. I looked back dumbfounded.

“He asked her to marry him, and you just wander in with crabs? Jerk!” They storm off.

A quick check of the TA’s finger confirms it. Inadvertently, I had interrupted the most romantic moment of this couple’s life to show off dead crabs. But far more importantly, I still don’t know how these crabs died. Romance is irrelevant when there’s a scientific question to be answered. “Will you marry me?” doesn’t count.