White Deathly Turf

The continuous attempts I make throughout my life to pretend to be normal, and in some extreme cases, even civilised or sophisticated, have lead me to some weird places. This weekend for instance I've been to San Moritz, home to the world´s smallest gene pool. The lakes freeze in the winter only to ensure the locals don't get too used to swimming with their webbed feet and take permanently to the water, to form some superior sub-human species capable of taking us on in planetary war fare.

I've been skiing, mercifully without significant internal bleeding or loss of any limb or appendige I'm overly attached to. In fact I seem to feel more and more comfortable on skis. So much so that returning to this god forsaken 'walking' business feels like a backward step. I might as well travel home on a horse and cart, shooting any Frenchman on sight. On refelection, I guess some things don't work out for the best in the long run.

After surviving skiing I felt confident enough in the continuation of all the best genes my balls could muster. So I felt ok starting sledging. I felt ok that is , until after a brief, brisk burst down the run, I exceeded my minimal comfort limit and crashed spectacularly into a solid bank of ice. The initial impact, atomic though it was, seemed to cause no serious damage. I gingerly checked myself and seeing there was no spinal fluid running freely from my ears, mouth or nose, mentally thanked the god I know doesn't exist.

This was where my secondary problem started. Having given such orgasmic clearance to the fact that I wasn´t going to be having my girlfriend wipe my bum for the rest of my pathetic life, I had forgotten that I was lying horizontially in the middle of a fucking sledge run. This blissful spell was gloriously broken with the dramatic entrance of a member of cool runnings, steaming head first into the rest of what seemed like my very short life.

Luckily, the driver of this harbringe of death took my mental connection and realised that self sacrifice was the only way foward. To avoid me, she would have to go over the barrier and never see her kids again. Frankly, at that point, fuck her kids.

She survived. Beers were bought in hearty recompense. Each realising that this went in no way to balance what had happened. Me, not giving a shit.