Day 68
What happened today? Well, I went to class and it was so horribly boring that I was forced to talk to my seatmate whom I don't even like and write an entire stream of consciousness page left-handed. Maybe next time I will try the old wear sunglasses and sleep behind the lenses trick. You know that is a fine way to coast through class in high school but in college it is just a very expensive way to take unnecessary naps.
Today, I was mostly reminded that I will never be as awesome as my mother.
I got an envelope from my mother today and it had the following for contents:
-an article about an underground library (boring)
-a picture of the matching sweatsuit set my mother ordered for my grandmother out of the newspaper which was in Cranberry not Iris (color that is or colour if you are Canadian). Turns out it was only $19.99!
-a picture cut out from the newspaper anniversary section of a couple who was married back in like 1939. This was labeled on the bottom, by my mother, with the names: Elmer and June.
-$20 in cash, well $5 in Canadian and the other $15 in U.S. dollars.
-and, a one page letter which is mostly a whole bunch of details that she made up about the now wrinkle ranched couple. Like, "notice June's glasses. She still wears them today. Some hair style and Pepsident smile too. Elmer doesn't smile..teeth rotted out early in infancy, I guess."
What a flair for storytelling, eh? (Apologies for the horrid Canadian 'eh') I guess I have to tell myself she has a knack for storytelling otherwise she'd just be a nut. The rest of the letter is fairly coherent, I guess. Maybe it's just the red wine her doctor is telling her to drink. Well, that's the reason she says she's taken to drinking.
Tonight I picked up a shift at the bar for the Indian guy I always hit on. I wonder if he chose to give it to me because I am always hanging on him. I really am a slut--a slut who doesn't get anything but moneymaking shifts. Not too bad, but if I was a prostitute I would be getting paid more and have to work less hours.
Anyway, I filled in for the Indian dude which was great except I usually bartend and he works the floor. I have no idea what floor person is supposed to do. I thought about whether or not to fake it but I decided the best way to go about it was to tell people to boss me around (which they didn't ) so, I pretty much got my co-workers to tell me stories. I listened to the tale of the 80-person fight that left bartenders wounded and ended in a worker pulling the fire alarm to break it up while protecting herself with a pool cue. The fire department showed up and actually got mad at her for having called.
I heard about the regular customer who is a white guy wannabe rapstar who took the ugliest girl alive in for a night of passion and screamed at her, "Say my name!" in the middle of sex and she responded, "I don't know." Later the same guy was hanging out with his buddies and they were discussing the fact that they didn't go down on women they didn't know because they were afraid of getting herpes. The guy then washed out his mouth with antibacterial hand gel. I heard about how there has been multiple times when a slight, young female floorperson has caught men on the patio pissing (including last week when she was dressed as Cleopatra for Halloween) she marches up to them commanded they stop urinating in 2 seconds and throws them out. I heard stories about people puking in the bar and how the rule is that the person who pukes always has to clean it up. All of these stories thrown around all night and the craziest shit that actually happened was that the open mike-ish setup had some dude soloing on the bass guitar singing John Mayer.
So, after we ushered the drunk non-puking, non-fighting, non-rapstar wannabes out of the pub we all sat down together and had a beer, so much for grounding myself from drinking. I still made it one whole day, that' s good enough, right?
-Canadian Castaway
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