After watching The Amazing Race last night, I was reminded of something I’d buried deep within my subconscious: I hate hippies. I really do. All of them: from Jerry Garcia to that waiter at your favourite vegan restaurant. It’s not nice of me, I know, but it’s a fact.
The Amazing Race is back to form, and while I haven’t figured out which teams I’m rooting for yet, I sure as hell know that I don’t want the filthy hippies to win. I’m told that BJ and Tyler are fun and that they make a good team. This information comes from Sarah, who watched minus the crimson veil of rage I was wearing. I tried to like them, I did, but then in their profile they were shown perched on the edge of some structure, playing what must have been a ukulele, and swinging their dirty, bare feet over the edge, and that was it. The dirty feet. My blood pressure: skyrocketing. My fists: swinging in the air at nothing.
In the interest of full disclosure, this prejudice can be traced back to my third year of University. We had a good location and my housemates were great, but the house next door was bursting at the seems with hippies—as if they were constantly breeding and somehow giving birth to long-haired, patchouli-smelling adults. I didn’t hate them right away. I’ll admit now through clenched teeth that some of them were sort of cool. What soured it all for me was finals. At the end of the semester, we hit a stretch where the weather was to-the-degree perfect for over a week—which unfortunately coincided with exams. I got outdoors for maybe an hour a day, but mostly I was bunkered down in my bedroom in the basement from sunup to sundown. The hippies though: on their porch or on their front lawn for the entire stretch. They were all students so far as I know, but somehow not one of them had a single commitment for seven days. Every time I looked out the window, they were there: playing hacky sack, working the barbeque, riding their bikes (in their dirty hippie feet), and once, playing a game of soccer that (I don’t think I’m exaggerating here) went on for three days.
Worse still, they stole my boxing gloves. (Why did I even have boxing gloves? I'll never tell. If you want to imagine I was manly, you go ahead and do that.) We had a box of miscellaneous sports equipment in our house that the neighbours made liberal use of (because hippies don’t own things), and at some point during the year the gloves went AWOL. By the time I’d even realized they were gone, the year was over and the hippies had abandoned their shanty town, on the way to Burning Man, I guess. Occasionally, I imagine that the commune is still together, and that they still have my boxing gloves, and that once a night they draw straws to see who takes the ritualistic beating. It’s cold comfort, but it’s still comfort.
The Amazing Race is back to form, and while I haven’t figured out which teams I’m rooting for yet, I sure as hell know that I don’t want the filthy hippies to win. I’m told that BJ and Tyler are fun and that they make a good team. This information comes from Sarah, who watched minus the crimson veil of rage I was wearing. I tried to like them, I did, but then in their profile they were shown perched on the edge of some structure, playing what must have been a ukulele, and swinging their dirty, bare feet over the edge, and that was it. The dirty feet. My blood pressure: skyrocketing. My fists: swinging in the air at nothing.
In the interest of full disclosure, this prejudice can be traced back to my third year of University. We had a good location and my housemates were great, but the house next door was bursting at the seems with hippies—as if they were constantly breeding and somehow giving birth to long-haired, patchouli-smelling adults. I didn’t hate them right away. I’ll admit now through clenched teeth that some of them were sort of cool. What soured it all for me was finals. At the end of the semester, we hit a stretch where the weather was to-the-degree perfect for over a week—which unfortunately coincided with exams. I got outdoors for maybe an hour a day, but mostly I was bunkered down in my bedroom in the basement from sunup to sundown. The hippies though: on their porch or on their front lawn for the entire stretch. They were all students so far as I know, but somehow not one of them had a single commitment for seven days. Every time I looked out the window, they were there: playing hacky sack, working the barbeque, riding their bikes (in their dirty hippie feet), and once, playing a game of soccer that (I don’t think I’m exaggerating here) went on for three days.
Worse still, they stole my boxing gloves. (Why did I even have boxing gloves? I'll never tell. If you want to imagine I was manly, you go ahead and do that.) We had a box of miscellaneous sports equipment in our house that the neighbours made liberal use of (because hippies don’t own things), and at some point during the year the gloves went AWOL. By the time I’d even realized they were gone, the year was over and the hippies had abandoned their shanty town, on the way to Burning Man, I guess. Occasionally, I imagine that the commune is still together, and that they still have my boxing gloves, and that once a night they draw straws to see who takes the ritualistic beating. It’s cold comfort, but it’s still comfort.
Comments
The Glamazons can leave now, as well. They weren't bad until they started shrieking about everything all... the fucking... time.
Also toss out that one blonde pouty girl who looks like she's about to cry all the time and that irritating-as-all-hell dentist guy with his Southern Belle wife. She's not so bad, but he needs slapping.
And what, may I ask, is with the token black couple? It may seem a bit of a jump to label them so, but I believe they only had one black couple two seasons ago, and then one black family in this past season's ill-fated family edition (named, amusingly, the Black family). So, fair or no, they're tokens.
Speaking of whom, I thought that guy was gonna go apeshit on the Brazilians whistling at his woman while they were putting the motorcycle together. For my money, he either didn't understand what they were saying (and opted to overlook the whistles) or was told by the camera guy that attacking people in a hosting city went against the contract he signed, or something.
Whatever the case, looks like a decent season being set up, overall. Glad they opted to go back to the normal format instead of the All Family/All U.S. Travel theme of last time. ("They're in Washington now? No way! What exotic and interesting culture they have to deal with now!")
Bah.
Meanwhile, I should get to work on my Bring Anderson Cooper Back For The Mole! buttons.
Best... host... ever.
Best line in this episode: "Are you seriously about to cry right now?" Joseph to Monica, about 10 minutes into the show. I mean, they haven't even made it out of the country yet and she's already in tears? Give me a break. You're going to do well in this competition, honey.
Eric and Jeremy will win adoring females fans everywhere for their references to women as "bitches" and "hos", that's my prediction.
"Lifelong Friends" = "Gay Boyfriends"...call a spade a spade, I say! Well, they're gone anyways.
I like older couples because they serve as great examples of how relationships should work, how teams should function, and how essential communication skills and not holding grudges are to working well together. Unfortunately the older ones tend to get the boot early on.
My favourite competitor is Desiree, because, for someone so young, she seems really grounded and able to keep her mother in check. I hope they last a while.
I should watch it sometime - but then I would have another reason to sit on my ass and watch TV, which is not what I'm going for this year.
Just so everyone knows, I hate diet and exercise. I do.
Seriously, I, too, tend to not like Hippies.
It's the whole "non-materialism" thing they have going on.
Which means that inevitably, they will borrow shit from you.
Freeloaders are jackasses, because they live an enviable life on the shoulders of hardworking people.
But then, you can also blame everyone for thinking that they are cool in the first place.
It's like the time when some starry-eyed 20-something girl told me how awesome Keanu Reeves was due to the fact that he had given up everything except his bass and his motorcycle and was going on the road to play gigs in small venues with his band.
Yeah.
Easy to do that when you have several million dollars accessible with your bank card at any given time.
It's the callous disregard for the privacy of others that bothers me.
Beth - Thanks for the warning. Is that the place where the waiters are high and constantly dropping things, and where Justin got the pizza that takes like socks?
Isha - Teams should not be able to nickname each other or especially themselves. That should only ever be the domain of Television Without Pity.
Courtney - Check it. It's very good.
Jorge - Hippies stole your gi, didn't they?
Yes, yes and yes. But it's not the place where he got the chicken sandwich that tasted like cake.
"Herc! Herc! What do we do now? What do we do now?"
You will take away her powers that way!