Chapter 23 Fucking Australia

Chapter 23

Fucking Australia

Growing up, Joshua got the most sexually charged from the sandy covered navel of Elle The Body MacPherson on the cover of Sports Illustrated, before the magazine started sporting Muslim models in Burkini’s, screaming, “Stayed focused on my Kathy Ireland eyes Infidel.” For a native New Yorker, Australian accents never sounded too intrusive in public like some stuffy, mole faced Brit was sticking their tongue down your throat without granting them permission. Still, Joshua would always bust his brother-in-law’s balls, he grew up in Australia for a bit, for his tendency to revert back to his Aussie heavy accent whenever he hit on girls before getting married, because without revitalizing the accent of old, he had zero pick up game around woman whatsoever. Citing your time in San Diego, working as a video game tester, didn’t inspire fetching beauties in the gas light district, to mount his uncircumcised flap of mound on the spot. But Joshua would give credit where credit is earned, especially, when his now official brother in law, made a comment at his wedding, stating, “I never knew anyone who could love my sister as much as Joshua does.” Now, you can also interpret that statement as a backhanded compliment, implying, I never found the bitch too lovable to begin with. Instead, Joshua interpreted the warm-hearted homage, as a moving testament, to the power of love. Also, when Joshua had announced to his future in-laws, at a restaurant in Park Slope, Brooklyn about being engaged to their Aussie reared daughter, before the family was uprooted to Greenville, Delaware, known for it’s state slogan, “Your Nazi Gold is safe with us”, you could hear the empty bottle of poison drop after Hitler and Eva Braun croaked on a serving of self-defeat, no longer feeling so masterful against the dying of the light. Still, in spite of the prolonged period of never ending, infuriating building silence, Anna’s younger brother, showcased his inner mensch, raising his wine glass, to toast the announcement. Later, he took a friendly bonding stroll with Joshua through the bucolic, Brownstone dominated streets of Park Slope north of 6th Avenue toward Prospect Park, Frederick Olmsted’s favorite park creation even more so than Central Park for all those Ken Burns suck him off wannabes at home. Anna’s younger brother even commented on the relief their union brought him saying, “Falling in love with his sister was great for her because of her being deep into the raver scene prior.” Again, Joshua thought this was a very classy touch, knowing the love of his life, had a younger brother, who cared about her well being and overall happiness, more than he normally would make you believe.

Joshua loved the tour group he met during his trip to the Great Barrier Reef on his honeymoon, after they erupted in laughter from his old bit about them wanting to get married in Australia but making a compromise, stating, “Babe, assuming we have a boy together one day, instead of hiring a Moyle for the circumcision, will hire Crocodile Dundee, just so we can hear a room full of Jews, say, now that’s a knife. You can chop it all off with that thing.”

Before Joshua, took a recent trip to London for the 1st time, with Anna he reached out to Jim Jefferies manager, accessing his email address on good old IMDB Pro and emoted about the incredible body of masterful comedic work, they’ve amassed together, inspiring Joshua to exploit his own catchphrase, “unhuggable cunt”, for all it was worth, considering the Aussie funny man’s fondness for his serially unapologetic, consistently hilarious use of the word himself for profitable gain. If a wannabe, funny man, resistor Twitter twat, couldn’t handle sticking to being a poor man’s, woke Bill Simmons, at Deadspin like Drew Magary and actually exuded more impactful, jealous inducing, ha, ha inducing prose or palpable, likeable gravitas of any kind, Joshua would feel compelled to call him an unhuggable cunt also. Jim Jefferie’s manager gave Joshua a very warm response, offering to send his demo stand up reel to the gate keeper in charge of the Edinburgh comedy festival, where Dennis Leary launched his famed comedy career back in the day, before he started fashioning himself as a political comic, you should give 2 shits about like a lesser, Nick Di Paolo minus the millennial fan base catering slobbering placation.

When Joshua went to Australia on his honeymoon with his pregnant wife Anna, he swears by hearing the hum of the universe as he floated on his back in a brook among the great, Daintree Rainforest near, Port Douglas, tapping into a deep, holy, lost in time when the Dinosaurs roamed there back in the day vibrations. Joshua struggled with summoning enough faithful courage to stop fighting against the unnatural act of breathing out of a fucking snorkeling breathing device, to prevent you from drowning to death, as he showed a spec of manhood and took a mini plunge into the pristine, clear blue waters of the Great Barrier Reef, taking in a Kaleidoscope of God’s most colorful fishes and finest finger painting handy work down under. Similar to when Joshua drove cross country to California his senior year of college for his last semester of school, he didn’t want his time immersed in such awe inspiring, God decorated, mind blowing, soul soothing beauty to end.

Joshua will never forget an encounter he had with an older than dirt car driver on his Honeymoon in Victoria, during their stay at a gorgeous, Victorian Chalet as Joshua relished reading books in their study from the highly readable, English writer, DH Lawrence, who wrote with actual flowy, accessible, expressive felt feeling. Joshua and Anna were off to some vineyard for lunch and the writer driver got a tad huffy, confrontational with him during their short drive, saying in so many words, you’ll never make it as a successful writer, I wrote a couple of novels and I’m driving you around fucking Victoria in a monkey suit to pay my alimony payments as I fight the temptation to drive straight into Mother’s Beach right now, and take the 2 of you love birds with me. But Joshua was a New Yorker, born and raised, and wasn’t going to let any fucking hack Australian dictate what he’d achieve in this world because most Americans don’t even know who Jim Jefferies is, case closed, let alone Jon Safran, the erudite, never been accused of raping his daughter Aussie, alternative, Yeshiva schooled, version of Woody Allen, who Joshua was more impressed with funny man, thought wise, if he had to choose.