Day 74
I woke up to find the fever I had was replaced by a head cold. Which meant that I had the strength to get out of bed which meant I could play on facebook all day but also, that I was conscious enough to realize that I was living in squalor. After schlepping around putting trash in trash bags and washing every single dish I own I started facebook chatting and checking my notification area like a junkie determined to find the last vial that they think they may have hid two days ago.
Somewhat luckily my illness coincided with a day where I was supposed to go out for sushi. I FUCKING HATE SUSHI! I announced to all of my friends that I was gonna tough it out and go as it was part of my friend's birthday celebration only to retract that comment twenty minutes later with a "I am too sick" comment. Something that got me much sympathy and well wishes this morning. I wonder what my friends will think when all day I have posted whiny "I'm so sick" status updates and I show up for class tomorrow.
Anyway, I drank a couple pots of tea and a friend came over for dinner. I dragged my sweatsuited, unmakeuped ass to the dining hall with her and that's when I started to feel better. We got our trays and sat down at a lone table and was soon joined by several others including a guy who never shuts up about anything ever, a South African guy who likes to seem proper but secretly loves mischief and a dorky mama's boy movie buff. (Isn't it fun to compartmentalize?) So there we were making small talk about hockey and movies and other things and I asked the movie buff the name of his first crush. He immediately responded with her full name (Sarah something) and told us that he was in Grade 3 when he liked her. (in Canada they turn around the number and the grade, weirdos)
This led to a perfect example of the nerd level my residence. The loud mouth guy whipped out his I-phone and started searching this first crush while movie buff blushed and South Africa snickered. Movie Buff described her for us stating at one point that she was, "A big girl but she could move." We talked about her interest in field hockey and how it may mean she was/is a lesbian. We talked about her older sister. We talked about how she got less hot in high school but couldn't really figure as to why. Someone offered that she may have just been going through and ugly faze.
Then we spent the next 15 minutes searching for this long lost Sara. It got to the point where an email address for her was identified through a listserve of an organization. That email address was then put into facebook and showed no results. We all sighed and then started to make guesses about how maybe her email address had changed. Someone offered that she may have gotten married. Some offered that it may be that she changed jobs and thus got a new email or that she just used a different email for facebook or she wasn't on facebook (unlikely). I offered that she probably switched from hotmail to gmail because that's what everyone is doing these days. I stopped and thought on this entire dining hall scene for a minute and thought we are actually spending our time thinking about how a girl we don't know, whose email address we don't know belongs to her would maybe change her email address and why she would do it. I grinned to myself and thought, 'I am finally a geek!'
After dinner I couldn't believe how much better I felt and started to wonder if I was feeling sick only because I sat in my room all day thinking about how sick I was. I spent the rest of the evening gossiping with a friend about boys. It's awesome because when we hang out it is just like Junior High (but we aren't virgins and are in Grad School). We bitched about guys we liked but shouldn't, guys we were supposed to like. She understood what it is like to check the facebook page of the guy you like 28 times per day. And, I understood her attraction to the bad guys. It was all wonderful but got even better when we took to the internet.
Side by side we scrolled across facebook pages of guys and left ridiculous remarks on them.
Like on movie buff's high school photo we wrote the following:
Dear _____,
Is this really you? How could Sara not love you?
Love, Two Big Girls Who Can Move
To a Persian friend of ours playing chess we wrote:
Dear ______,
Just so you know those are chess pieces not our hearts so stop playing with them. Thank you.
Love, Your favorite white girls
To another Persian friend (god, we really have an overabundance) we wrote:
Dear ____,
You are waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better looking in real life and this picture sucks and we are sick of looking at it please change. And, don't be a whore.
Love, Your favorite white girls
We wrote on a few more pictures. One was of a friend with his shirt off we asked him why he ever wore a shirt. Another was on an old pic of a friend of ours we told him his hair was waaaaay better in the picture than in real life.
Anyway, all of this naughtiness somehow seemed to cure my cold. I think when you start worrying about going to hell you forget tiny ailments. However, you don't forget how the guy you like doesn't write to you to ask if you are okay. But, you realize that since there is the miracle of the internet you could write a nasty officious comment on a photo of his and seek your revenge. Well, you could if you hadn't banned yourself from sending him messages because it seems to be getting out of hand and you don't want to smother him and FUCK this consciousness thing. I wanna be bad.
-Canadian Castaway
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