Day 80
So, before I begin I just want to say that I didn't enjoy the jello shots that came out of a petri dish but they were necessary, I think. So, back up before the petri shots I had a full day of doing nothing productive. Here's the review:
I made breakfast with a group of people who told me I wasn't invited to anything that was going on. I tried to get an invite but was rejected. Then I wondered why I tried to get an invite in the first place.
After that I bought a plane ticket home for Christmas and then made a mental list of what I was gonna do when I got back to American soil. Things like;
Hug my mom.
Drive a car.
Watch Dawson's Creek.
Get annoyed by my parents.
Sing karaoke with two blonde (Aryian?) people that I don't really talk to.
Makeout with hockey fans.
Shop at Target, Walmart, Kmart, and ShopKo.
See my brother's fancy apartment (be secretly jealous of my brother's fancy apartment).
Get drunk and go to church.
Just a few of the normal things.
After that my bodyguard, me and our friend got a bus to go to a thriftstore. While on the bus my bodyguard threw a huge scene as there was a baby on board. Most of the time when a child is on the bus there is a tiny comment like, "Cute kid." But, when my bodyguard is on the bus it's like he's a commentator for the goddamn Macy's Day Parade. He is on a constant comment track with, "Look at the fat cheeks!" "It just moved it's head." "Look at those legs, so fat and healthy." "CUTE!" "Look! It's looking at the bald guy." "It looks like a little alien." "Look at its cute little baby suit." "It's still looking at the bald guy." And, it didn't help that our friend was encouraging him with lines like, "I want to just gnaw on those cheeks!" "Just put them in my mouth." I told them to tone it down a little that the kid's mother might hear, to which my bodyguard said, "So? She would be proud." Yeah, I thought, proud that some lanky gawker and hit cheek-biting cohort were staring at her kid.
At the thriftstore we found the following things:
A bus driver-ish jacket that was blue plastic meets a garbage bag.
A puppet with human-like teeth (despite it being a horse) and a wet inside.
12 boxes of some kind of plastic bra for $6.99 a pop.
A Hebrew version of "The Giving Tree."
A homemade purse with dozens of naked guys on it and green faux fur.
A plastic rat.
A furry tiger.
47 blazers.
A book called, "2002 Romantic Gestures." Example: "Sweep her off her feet."
Elmo (somehow after the Tickle Me thing he got creepy).
St. Elmo's Fire soundtrack (not creepy).
A guy dressed in biker-ish leather gear buying like 16 wooden hangers, hockey skates AND a silver glittery eyeglasses case.
Tonight was a residence hall night. We had a room crawl (translation: stupid games, booze and allegedly good times). Let me take you on a tour:
Clueless: My group's room was designed around the Clue game with a murder and hidden clues. There was gin (from a Kool-aid pitcher, kinda creepy) and Amaretto (disgusting). I had a drink, played around with an English accent and kicked the person playing the body before retreating to my room for wine and facebooking.
STDS: The next stop was a room full of people holding glasses with clear liquor in them. You were supposed to pass them to someone and drink from the same cup. Everyone was chanting, "Exchange bodily fluids" and then the Chemistry geek would pour something into the glasses and tell you what sort of STD you got. Gross! (speaking of STDs, I had a dream the other night where I had sex with Billie Joe Armstrong in a hospital, maybe I should get tested) If all of this weren't enough they played a game where people had to put a condom on a banana and pass the protected banana from between their legs to the next person and it always ended with a baby anyhow and that "baby" had to eat the sexed up banana. It all reminded me of a high school pep rally type game situation but in high school I would leave and go smoke pot. Damn, I miss high school.
Mile High Club: The next stop had my favorite big fat gay Hawaiian at it pretending to be the head flight attendant. The best line was when he said, "Your seat cushions can be used as floatation devices. If you do not have a seat cushion you can use a female flight attendant." They played a game where you had to stand in a line and pass a rope under your clothes and to the next person and they would do the same and whoever got through every person in line first won. Maybe they should've tested for STD's after this activity instead of before. Oh well, surprises keep life exciting.
H1N1 Clinic: The next stop was at a "clinic" for H1N1 where there were cough syrupy cups handed out with shots that tasted like shitty Robitussin. Too bad, it wasn't Robitussin the last time I drank a bottle of that I had a ton of fun but of course I was driving and it was 4 am. Anyway, after that they walked around with syringes and injected the shit into people's mouths and handed out petri dishes filled with jello shots topped with whipped cream. Wouldn't it be sort of ironic if we all got swine flu at this clinic?
Finally, the night ended (at least I think it ended, I left) with a disco party. The leader of this group was a nasty Quebec dude who had a grind dance contest declaring, "If the crotch of one person leaves the ass of the other you are disqualified." The few people drunk enough to grind limboed under a nasty bed sheet while the Francophile danced, the buttons on his polyester shirt reached near popping off. And, I left. I didn't want to see what was under that shirt.
Well, that pretty much wraps it up for today. Fairly uneventful.
-Canadian Castaway
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