Quokka bubble bath party
I’m home from New Orleans, a town that has shown me how badly I fail at being a degenerate. For five straight days, I conferenced with a degree of seriousness that I’m sure balances on inappropriate. Many full nights of sleep were had. I’m ashamed to admit that I only fell victim to inferior sazeracs on one occasion. Once my friends arrived and I was allegedly ready to party, it still wasn’t exactly The Hangover. We didn’t steal a tiger and we locked arms walking down Bourbon Street. We ate some fucking fantastic meals.
I know, I’m a terrible disappointment. Kristina and Sarah probably are too.
We definitely should have jumped on that neon party trailer with fake L’il Wayne and his aunt.
Bumpin’ at 5mph #squadgoals
But even though NOLA is super interesting and eventually I stopped conferencing with overwhelming sincerity and PASSION FOR STRUCTURED CONTENT (because my friends arrived and they give zero fucks for content passion), I don’t want to do a trip report. I want to talk about quokkas.
Specifically,
How they are the cutest marsupial I’d never heard of… until NAO!
How I need a crocheted quokka.
How I wouldn’t be able to get anything done if I had a crocheted quokka (except staring at said crocheted quokka).
How my friends and I are so spellbound by the crocheted quokka that we might have translated that passion into a suggestion that Robert procure a crocheted horse head… because bitches stole his template and that is NOT cool.
How quokka cute is so powerful that it might induce us to throw a hot tub bubble bath party for them (despite the fact that they all have scabies).
How the only acceptable way to refer to a group of quokkas must be “a hug.” And if it isn’t, we’re fixing that right now. A hug of quokkas. Can you imagine?!
How we might need to plan a girls trip to Australia to snuggle quokkas. And possibly so Robert can take care of some questionable business that made me ponder geometry and which somehow made Valkyrie blanch. (Kudos! I’d never thought I’d see the day!)
I like ordered lists, but I also like context. Fans of this blog—all five of you— know that I also like posting random text messages from my friends. Now is the perfect opportunity to combine all of these concepts. With permission from my buddies, I’m going to give you a rare view into my creative process. (AKA how I get random text messages and then turn them into ordered lists).
Birches, I’m gonna go to that screenshot place!
Because who doesn’t want to relive my crocheted quokka discovery? Immediate declarations that I would do anything for them? New and totally superior scientific naming of multiple quokkas?! And… finally… the moment when we realized this tiny bundle of furry cute might be worth organizing a group trip to Australia. Did you see him?!!
This conversation happened a few nights ago and I’m still thinking about quokkas.
Setting the stage
First, there was this text from Robert to Valkyrie. It’s hard for me to express the level of want that I felt.
(Valkyrie did a pretty good job of expressing it with her use of all caps and her willingness to stalk a fake marsupial.)
Note: There might have been a bit in the middle when we (as a group) decided that some assholes that Robert works with deserve to receive a crocheted horse head in the mail… and another part where Robert listed a few other compelling but NSFW reasons why he needs to go back to Australia. But the rest was definitely about adorable rodents with pouches.
Just add science… and hot tubs
Then Robert brought the unpleasant parasite and STD science. We decided that scabies would not stop us from taking an army of quokkas in. And clearly, any marsupial with scabies could benefit from a bubble bath. The plan comes together.
Take a dinner break and then continue fixating
At this point I went to dinner with David and we had chi-chi hamburgers. I paired mine with a delicious prohibition-era cocktail called the last word. It was good to catch up. However, hours later, I was STILL thinking about the cute rodent. And how they need a bubble bath. And how that bubble bath should happen in a hot tub.
This is Silicon Valley. We should be able to crowdsource this shit or get venture capital funding. Robert feeds us photos of himself in Australia with quokkas. He’s a jerk—flaunting his first person experience and telling us about how he bought them drinks and learned about their super secret dating apps.
{Obligatory nod to narwhal denial}
Go to Australia and marry Valkyrie
We can celebrate our mutual commitment to quokkas as part of the ceremony. I’ve found a use for my collection of oversized purses. Things escalated quickly.
Confuse your (limited) readership and live out Carmen San Diego fantasies
I’m sure this is all crystal clear now and totally worth a blog post. If I disappear, you might know where I’ve gone. Although, I admit that a red herring might place me in South America. Was this Facebook message from the other night meant to lead you astray? Perhaps that’s what I wanted! {mwahahahahahahah}
This is the part where Carole asks again if I ever work….
But if I disappear and I’m not in Lima with Jane and Robert, then I’m probably snuggling a tiny marsupial with Robert and Valkyrie. And if I’m still around but seem to be really into “planning,” you might take that to mean that Robert procured a few crocheted quokkas *and* that we might be designing an elaborate quokka simulation involving hot tubs, bubbles, and a noted absence of marsupial parasites.
Maybe.
Apologize
I know that I promised that this post would be called “Book 3 better be sexy,” but alack, I haven’t completed my read of Lady Sherlock book 3 (The Hollow of Fear) and cannot, yet, speak to the sexiness (or diabolical cleverness) of said novel. Probably because I’m absolutely taken with another series of romance novels by Sarah MacLean and because, before that, I was taken with The Essex Serpent, by Sarah Perry and An Unkindness of Magicians, by Kat Howard.
