Day 84
Apologies for not posting yesterday. Who knew that going out for a beer after class would take until 3:30 am. Not me. But, I am not at all surprised. So, here's a quick re-cap of what I can remember of yesterday:
Before Class:
So, naturally I spent the morning doing some "work" but, mostly, I browsed around on facebook spying on people. After I had finished milling around the conversations of people I normally talk to, I typed in the names of random people from high school. As I was browsing around the pages of people who have stayed near my hometown, I found as the most common thing was how many of them have horrible addictions to facebook games, particularly things that end in, "ville." Every time the given person from high school gets to a new level or has a cow wander off they publish it in a status update. Here is a list of the facebook game updates found on just one of those people's pages: Mafia Wars, Farmville, Roller Coaster Kingdom, (Lil) Farm Life, and Vampire Wars. When do they have time to raise their 4 kids, have sex with their husbands, and work jobs when they have to harvest crops, kick ass, and suck blood all the damn time?
After I am thoroughly bored with facebook I check my email. As I live in a residence many of my emails are from fellow residents announcing soccer practice or asking to borrow scanners or some such shit. I clicked into one of them yesterday to find the following message, verbatim:
"Hello Everyone,
Just a quick question, does anyone has a spared mouse and/or umbrella that I can buy off from your hand?"
If that wasn't bad enough they signed the thing with their name plus the following credentials: Ph.D Student, Special Education. No wonder Special Ed is so fucked. And just think this is a Ph.D student!
During Class:
So, last week I was forced to sit right near the instructor in my favorite class. I was terrified as he is an amazing writer and in my mind I have built him up to a mythic-like status. I didn't want to sit so near him that I find out that he has hair in his ears just like everyone else. But, I did and he does and it wasn't so bad. So, I sat right next to him again yesterday. The class was supposed to be all of us reading pitch letters, which sounded quite boring but little did I remember that this class is never boring. The instructor of this class always goes off on rants, but usually just one per class period. This is unfortunate because these rants are extremely entertaining and have nothing to do with our coursework. I almost can't wait for him to go senile. I am gonna have to move to Canada in 10 years when this happens and buy the house next to his.
Anyway, yesterday not only did he go on a rant he went on two rants. Here they are:
1. The history of the proper etiquette of waving on a motorcycle. My fav instructor has been "motorcycling" for 40 years, which would explain why he always wears a leather vest, even though I think he takes ferry to get to school. This rant took quite sometime as there are many rules about who you can and can't wave to based on biker vs. motorcylist (bikers don't wave), how many cc's a bike has (Don't wave at anything under 500?), and what type of road you are riding on (city street vs. highway vs. freeway). There are also different kind of waves that have evolved/de-evolved over time. Currently, it is appropriate and expected to wag a gloved pinkie but it used to be that you'd take your hand off the grip.
2. A guy named Tom who built a giant ship in the prairies of Canada like 100 years ago. Apparently, my instructor wrote a book about this after he went to the town to interview people about this Tom. The only person alive at the time Tom was building the ship was the cop who hauled Tom in to the insane asylum and he really didn't remember much. We heard all about how to "cold roll" weld as part of this rant. And, we learned that prairie men who tried to reconstruct the boat didn't know shit about shipbuilding.
All in all, it was a wonderful class.
After Class:
After class we went to a pub on campus like we normally do but this time the adventure didn't end around 7 pm or so, it continued on until 3 am. Much of it is a foggy, fragmented memory (that's what happens after you drink the equivalent of 4 pitchers of beer) here are just a couple things that I can sort of remember:
-Talk about bad kissing.
-Stalking hot Nordic men online.
-Me kissing a guy at the bar and running out the door. (I tried for the lips, but got him on the cheek)
-Doing a shot with a bartender who was interchanging hats from: fez to cowboy hat to winged Hermes hat.
-Deliberately sucking down secondhand smoke. Dirty.
-The Czech girl tripped and fell on the sidewalk and I told her to, "Knock it off!"
-Walking home a friend of ours, going into her apartment kitchen and getting yelled at for not taking off my shoes. I still didn't take them off.
-Waiting for the bus, forever. Whining to my bodyguard, "We're gonna die here and I'll never get laid again." He said, "Yeah, me either."
-Half-sleeping on his shoulder, wishing he were fatter so his shoulder bones weren't jabbing into my eye.
Moving on to today:
I woke up at 2:20, realized that I had promised to go DVD shopping with a friend. I didn't go with him. Did he really need me there to see him buy Star Trek and hear me whine about being downtown? After a good hour of frantically thinking I wasted my entire day (i.e. not doing anything) I braved the torrential rain with a ridiculous umbrella that flipped inside out every ten feet. I am sure this was hilarious--to other people. I made it as far as the Student Union, went in and bought a sandwich for myself and a cookie for my bodyguard.
I walked back in the wind and rain, this time with my mother on the phone. Somehow, bitching to her the whole walk back made it more bearable--for me. I went over to my bodyguard's building and sent him a text that read, "Come downstairs if you are home. If you are not home let me know so I can leave." Before he replied I snuck in with a couple Asian girls and got on the elevator. I got off on the wrong floor and got back on to the right floor. Just as the door opened my bodyguard was starting to get on. Here's the scene that followed:
"Your building is not secure."
"What's going on?"
I threw my wet umbrella and backpack on the ground and started rummaging.
"It's your lucky day. I brought you a goddamn cookie."
I produce a cookie.
"Here, take it, it's for you."'
"No, you should eat it."
"What the fuck?! I buy you a cookie and come over here in the goddamn fucking rainstorm and now you are telling me to eat it! Jesus Christ. Take the cookie!"
He took the cookie and said, "Thanks." And, I said, "I gotta go."
I finally do something nice for someone and they barely let me do it. This is ridiculous. Anyway, I got back on the elevator and went one floor down to my friend's place. I barged in, unannounced and started eating my sandwich and talking to her about how many people we've each made out with (she actually had a typed list of names on her computer), while she poured me sparkling apple cider and I realized that not only was I crazed with PMS hormones, but I also hadn't eaten in 24 hours. Then I thought, God, does my bodyguard not realize that I was taking care of him before myself even! See if I ever buy him a cookie again. And then, when I finally got home with my broken umbrella dragging behind me I flip on my facebook to see this, "That cookie was actually very delicious." All I could write was, "Duh!" and then, despite being pissed off I added a, ":)" God, those smiley faces are like a disease. I swear sometimes I don't even know I am making them.
Let's see, not much else happened after that except at supper the guy who I was supposed to go DVD shopping with admitted to me that he has never seen Clerks. "I mean, it's in black and white. Come on." FYI smartass, I will NEVER go DVD shopping with you. And, don't even tell me how much you enjoyed Clerks 2 you shouldn't even be able to watch it! Fucking Canadian know-it-all big budget film whore.
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment