So it hit me today, as I knew it would.
The homesickness dear blogadytes. Dear sweet monkey the homesickness.
Even though it was too expensive, too tricky to schedule, too damned un-doable, I've still spent the day kicking my own ass for not buying a ticket home for Turkey Day.
Poop.
And you'd think getting free stuff would warm the cockles of the Sma's wrinkled lonely little heart, but no. See, the nice rich people who run this city have decided that they can't pay the teachers and school employees bonuses (as they have done for the cops and day-care workers, and will likely soon do for the nurses) due to "the contract", so they'll give us all kinds of cards (to the pool, which I already have, to museums, which are already free on Wednesdays, to the "zoo" and "family park", which is a waste for me, not having kids) and some extra money for gym memberships (which we still have to pay income tax on) and a pot of cash that the administrators of each school can decide how to use in order to thank us for all our hard and ridiculously underpaid work.
We got a ticket for two to the National Theatre.
Whooopdyfuckindoo!
I'd have much more appreciated a gift-certificate to Bónus, or Hákaup, or Krónan, (even though their all run by price-gauging crooks) hell, even Europrís (the Walmart of Europe). I'd have taken kindly to a nice catered party, or a certificate for a dinner, or one I could redeem at a book store. Hell, a month's worth of bus fares would be fine.
I don't go to the theatre much, mainly because I'm not so fond of plays. I like movies, but on stage I prefer stand-up, or musicals, cabaret, or Shakespeare, all things in short supply at the national theatre which tends to put on rather depressing offerings of pseudo-pomo art-fag angst or older Icelandic plays which for all their cultural significance, mean jack shit to me.
Don't even get me started on how deeply I despise Icelandic "stage-comedies".
Seriously, don't.
But hey, at least they tried.
At least they tried.
