Day 86
This morning was rather uneventful except that I realized two things:
1. I find inspiration while in the shower which leads to me standing in my own puddle, writing. Maybe I should get that brightly colored soap that you can use to write on yourself and the tub. Which reminds me of those capsules that turn into animal-shaped sponges. I am not sure how they are really all that inspiring but I wonder what would happened if you swallowed one like a pill. Would you become pregnant with a sponge T-Rex. Hmm, that would be soooo much cooler than a real baby.
2. That I have an unnatural obsession with Eleanor Roosevelt. The stuff that came pouring out of that woman's mouth is damn astounding. She was so brilliant that I am wondering why she wasn't president. Oh yeah because we couldn't handle a woman president. I wonder how many wars could have been prevented had the world listened to just a few quotes from this woman. Anyway, I am so excited because I am devoting tomorrow afternoon to stalking her in the library. Hey, I finally have a hobby that doesn't involve facebook: stalking Mrs. Roosevelt (cause you know she's not on facebook). Perhaps I should set up a buddy system (translation: a team of goons I fear) in case I start thinking I am Mrs. Roosevelt. If I marry my father's fifth cousin and pop out five children, it may be time to haul me in, especially if I start wearing hats.
After waiting on a whole bunch of drunk ass lawyers-to-be my bodyguard and I went out to a birthday party for a friend. (Sorry, got to admit I was reading about Eleanor for the last half hour). Anyway, the party was to begin at a Japanese restaurant. I hate Japanese food. But, going to the restaurant was infinitely better than waiting on young lawyers with free drink tickets. Here are a couple of highlights from the Japanese food-athon:
-Apparently, you have to take off your shoes to eat. As it is polite, I just can't figure out how it is polite.
-They give you wet hot towels to clean your hands with. But, they are also supposed to be used as napkins. So, whatever shit you wipe from your hands you will inevitably wipe on your mouth anyhow. How is this helping anything?
-A lot of Japanese food comes on little plates and skewers.
-Sake isn't so bad. Well, I guess any sort of liquor isn't so bad. But, I did learn that despite it being served in shot-like glasses you aren't supposed to shoot it.
-Hot cherry tomatoes stuck on a stick with salt and pepper is just a plain ripoff.
-I would never want to be a dishwasher at a Japanese restaurant.
-What does it mean when your friends are embarrassed by your existence in front of their other friends and they say, "Oh, she's American," and the friends of friends nod in understanding? Who should you hate and why exactly should you hate them?
-I wonder what the nastiest used hot towel looked like.
-The best part of the meal was the fried chicken that came with mayo. Every thing else tasted a lot like slugs feel in your hand.
-I got a blow job lesson from the guy across from me as he used an edamame as a tiny, fake cock. It was way hotter than it sounds.
Other than all of that it was kinda boring except when I thought about how I should go into Japanese restaurants and steal shoes from dining customers. But, I wear a very uncommon size and would thus end up with a ton of useless shoes. It would be more productive to steal handbags but I may get deported. Nah, it's Canada.
After the Japanese-athon we went to sing karaoke. We went to someplace where you rent out a room from a fuckload of Asian men. The room itself looked like a backroom at a low rate strip club. In one corner was an old school huge screen TV with a slit in the screen. The songs were cued up by typing in numbers on a giant remote that was covered in plastic wrap. Dirty. They were set to run with a montage of Asian film footage that made no sense with the theme of the songs. Anyway, we belted out a few nasty ballads, a classmate of mine somehow ended up with her crotch on my head singing Bon Jovi and the boyfriend of the birthday girl sang a song in a fabulous falsetto. Just as my bodyguard and a friend were starting to sing David Bowie a stern-looking Asian man entered the room and ordered us out of the building. The song continued acapella for quite sometime which made it much harder to fake the words. But, I realized something tonight even if we all fail as writers we could always form a choir and try to make money that way, somehow. And if we failed at both writing and choir-singing at least we could get cool matching robes to mill around in while we ask, "Would you like to supersize that?"
Usually when we go out late downtown it takes a million years to get home as we miss late night buses, walk forever, and take cabs. But, tonight was special. Turns out a friend of ours has a car! Not just any car either a boxy 1989 Toyota. She had named the car Trooper but I promptly renamed it Elaine. She piled everyone in and we cruised around singing Elton John while dumping out people. I wanted to ride in Elaine forever. Maybe I'll buy that Taurus from the German and and name it Eleanor and Elaine would have a less cool friend. Nah, then I'd have to stay sober.
-Canadian Castaway
Later, in the afternoon I learned about Canadian lawyers to be as I had to work a function for a party they had at the college.
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