Day 114
Today started off with me trying on every shirt I own and being completely shocked that they don't make me thin. I do this every week or so and am always amazed and disgusted. If I am not listening to death metal while this occurs I feel moody and bloated the rest of the day. Today I didn't find any King Diamond, Sabbath, or Dio to play but I did find and upload my Aqua CD that I owned in 8th grade. There's nothing like a little Barbie Girl on repeat. I wish they'd join back together and write a tune about those freakish big-headed ghetto Bratz dolls.
Yesterday was much more exciting than today. After a morning of listening to Conservative talk radio with my father during which he screamed at me (he thinks if you are uploading CDs in your I-Tunes it somehow gets charged to his high speed internet bill) I went two towns over to get a haircut. My regular hair stylist (a gorgeous big-tattooed hottie named Michael) was no longer with the salon so I had to chose someone else. As it turns out the woman I chose was quite pleasant and while she wasn't hounding me to get highlights or buy mousse we spoke about The New Kids on the Block and her boyfriend and kids. After she cut up my hair I thought about her kids. If I were a stylist I would totally milk the shit out of that. What a good way to make tips. Is that unethical? Nah, if you have to sit and bullshit with someone the whole time you are doing your job they would surely come up, right? If it were me I would tell the customer that they really want a robo-raptor for Christmas but I thought they were pretty expensive. Shit, I should be doing that when I bartend, nobody'll know I don't have kids. Sometimes you have to make your own Christmas bonus.
After the hair salon I popped into Target (what I miss most when I am in Canada, sorry Mom and Dad but you can't offer those kind of sales in such a welcoming environment). While in Target I found a few items and overheard a kid reading a joke from what may have been a Laffy Taffy wrapper. He said, "What do cats read every day?" His parents made lame guesses like, "The Kitty Paper." The little boy smiled and said, "The mews." I want to meet the person who made up this joke.
I went to grab a coffee at my favorite coffeeshop which, as you may have read, is now filled with creeper old men. But, while I was there a young couple was sitting behind me. They must both attend one of the two exclusive private schools in town. The girl was gabbing on and on peppering her sentences with 9 too many likes. She spoke of all the money her grandfather was giving her in a trust and about a recent vacation to Florida, "Universal Studios is like soooo boring, seriously." The boy just sat there and listened. She said, "So like I was thinking the other day how there is chocolate cheesecake right?" No response. "And, like I was wondering what if there was like chocolate cheese?" No response. "That's just like how my brain works." I prayed for them to be replaced by a horde of creepers.
This afternoon I remembered that I promised a friend that I would spend Christmas break writing a story about a merkin dealer. I've decided to place our main character in a flea market and have rednecked, toothless fools come up and ask what a merkin is. I think it could work and if not it could be a future career opportunity for me.
Well, my bloated ass is off to watch a little Muppet Christmas Carol and think about how much I miss the great North country. You know, if they got a few Target stores up there I just may apply for citizenship well, assuming I could find a coffeeshop filled with rich idiot undergrads and creepers.
-Canadian (U.S.) Castaway
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