Reasons you will hate me

Things that are better in theory.

1. Going to the snow.
In your head - especially if you've grown up in rigidly un-snowy Melbourne - snow is an Enid Blyton-esque powdery blanket that envelops the land, not unlike a soft, fluffy marshmallow cloud. You recall whimsical tales of ruddy-cheeked children catching uniquely-shaped snowdrops on the tip of their tongue before racing inside for hot chocolate and carols.
Then you go for a day trip to Lake Mountain and realise that not only is it just dirty ice, but you're going to spend the entire day dodging fat women in ski overalls who keep tipping over like they're rolling drunk in a Surfers Paradise nightspot.
2. Having sex with a crush for the first time.
You've worked on each other for a few weeks, sodden in a hormonal haze. Not only does he or she get your references to League of Gentlemen , they've also made you a killer mix tape. And then you get naked. It may improve from here on in, but that first one is most always regrettable for many reasons.
3. Spending 'quality time' with a three year-old.
People who are 'good with kids' always seem like the most genuine, good-hearted folk. When you see them 'connecting' with some little tyke in an I'm-a-grown-up-but-hey-I'm-on-your-level type of way, you think to yourself: 'Now there's someone who knows how to get their hands dirty'. You want to be like that so you insist on a little one-on-one with a knee-high yourself. But after about an hour you realise that not only are you awkward and stiff around people who can't pronounce the letter 'r' or the word 'chocolate', you're also an unimaginative fuck who finds crawling around on your hands and knees degrading. And you are a bad person for this reason.
4. Going to a theatre restaurant.
I took my beloved friend television's Kynan Barker to Hunchbax for his 21st birthday (past shows: 'Forrest Hump', 'Bravehump', 'Raiders of the Lost Hump' and 'The Full Humpy'. Currently showing: 'Hump-erectomy'). My, how we nudged each other when the show began, rolling our eyes and basking in our intellectual superiority. What ironic fun was this!
That is, for the first hour or so. Then the show keeps going. And going. And going. And then there's cocktails afterwards. And a disco. And coffee and dessert. And your 'let's have a laugh or two' evening finishes at 1am with your life about four hours shorter.
5. Having a baby.
Sure, you're all roly poly and 'glowing' for nine months. You paint a room and everyone touches you. Then you come home from hospital with a screaming shit-machine. I'd call that an anticlimax.
6. Road trip.
You're not freedom fighters on the edge of oblivion. You're bickering over the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack and a CC's packet.

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