Day 100
Hooray, I made it 100 days. I don't know why this is more significant than day 99 or 37 but it's something I guess. I need a little excitement every now and again. It's not like I am getting laid or anything, nevermind.
Anyway, today was horribly boring. I wonder if it would've been different had I known it was DAY 100 (imagine ominous voice saying that). The most exciting thing that happened is that I did laundry. Well, it wasn't exactly the laundry that was exciting but the thunk I heard in the washer when I was removing my sheets. It was my cellphone. You know the day is going to be generally horrible after such a thing happens. But, the idea of mediocre really gets pounded into your brain when you feel excitement from vacuuming your floor.
Other quasi-exciting things happened though like I went to the bank and waited in line forever secretly eavesdropping on some boring rich girl freshman talking to some boy in shorts and thong sandals. The only thing I remember about the experience (and this tells you how boring rich girls are) is that I had on my headphones as a decoy. I even bobbed my head a little to look more secretive. I was the spy queen of the world in that bank line, until...Hussein the short man who wears a suit to the bank everyday and stands behind an inexplicable podium saw me. Him and I have not been speaking (well, I haven't been speaking to him) since about a month ago when he got really pushy about me using the ATM machine to deposit checks. I told him that I didn't trust it and he didn't give up on trying to convince me for another 10 minutes. So, just as I saw him approach he says in a regular indoor voice, "Hi, how are you?" Without thinking that this was something a girl actually listening to headphones enough to make her head bob along would hear I said, "Fine, thanks." And with that my cover was blown, but no one seemed to notice.
After snarfing down a pita filled with vegetables and calories I chatted with my brother on facebook. He told me that he has a new job prospect with some sort of real estate franchise. He wrote about it and I wrote back things like, "B-O-R-I-N-G." And yet I was quite surprised when he wrote something like, "Thanks for being excited for me." (Not! being the implied subtext) It hit me, why would anyone take career advice from someone who wants to write stories for a living? Really, wtf? I mentioned this to him and all he wrote was, "hahahaha." I think we made amends and he'll go off and make money and continue to be able to say, "hahahaha."
After that advice-athon confessional I went out to meet up with my bodyguard for a final goodbye before I head back to the U.S. for a silly long break (like 26 days). I met him at a cafe and we bullshitted for awhile. We talked about what he will one day name the bulldog or boxer he will own. He said names like, "Gnome" or "Goblin" or "Monster." I mentioned, "Fang" thinking it was cool. He told me it was generic. We talked some more and before he left I said, "You better hug me in case I die in a plane crash." He smiled and drew me in a for nice hug, our ears touched and held. "You paranoid woman," he uttered like it was a wonderful thing and not a curse, goddamn he is growing on me.
And then there was the double shift. I had told a fellow bar employee who allegedly has the flu that I could cover for him even though I was already working a shift today. Good deeds, I can be a sucker, especially when there are tips and free Monster drink involved. I told my fellow floor staff that he was kinda boring compared to my other co-worker, a bullshit line mostly to flirt with him. He took it as an invitation for a competition of my love. So, in an effort to win and get fucked up he stole airplane-sized bottles of Cinnamon whiskey from the liquor room and we each carried around the little bottles in our front pockets. I wonder if anyone saw how many times I went to the bathroom?
If the little bottles weren't bad enough the evening head bartender came in and I had to hide my tipsiness since he takes his work seriously (fool). But, later on in the shift he made a shot for all of the workers which we took in secret and while trying to not throw up (this was like my 7th shot of the day) I somehow faked like he was doing something really bad ass and cool and shocking. Sucker.
Anyway, it is approaching 3 am and I have a lot of packing to do tomorrow for the trip home. More on that tomorrow evening.
-Canadian Castaway
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