Day 117
Until a few days ago there was only one reason to eat cookies: the frosting. This was all fine with me I especially when the frosting was twice as thick at the cookie. But, when you are finished with the cookie (as no matter how much willpower you think you have you always finish it) all you have is a sinking fatty feeling and a faded memory of the good times you had. This used to be the case until just a mere two days ago I discovered the importance of cameras and cookies. First you go out and buy the giant Santa cookie loaded with frosting, second you take out your digital camera and after every couple of bites you snap a photo, making sure to save the eyes of your Santa until the end. After all of that you scroll through the life of your cookie and post it on facebook to show your friends who don't comment on it and then repeat.
I am a freakshow who is constantly trying to improve her act and audition for new ones.
A friend and I were sitting in a bar playing with our laptops yesterday, she doing important legal homework and I was diddling around on facebook. "He just popped up chat as soon as I got on facebook," I said. "He's like totally stalking me." My friend looked over our nest of HP computer screens and said, "But you are the one watching for him to come onto chat so you are stalking him." Awhile later after he and I were chatting a pause went by after I asked, "What are you doing?" so I added, "Besides ignoring me." And he then wrote me a message that read, "I would never ignore u !" I told my friend what he had written and she said, "Ask him if he's stalking you. Ask him right now." "No," I mumbled. "Why?" "Because I kind of like that he's stalking me." Or am I stalking him? I need to wikipedia stalking.
So, I have been absent for a few days from the blog, whatever I am sort of on a vacation. Well, visiting your parents is usually more like a punishment which is reason number 38 of why I miss Canada. Anyway, I have been doing exciting things like going to supper and attending Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles birthday parties and going to Taco Bell.
One of my suppers involved my niece, her brother and her mother. My niece is a lovely little 5 year old creature. She calls me an "Underwearhead" and loves to make me take her to the bathroom and then hold my hand on the way back to the seat making sure that the wetness of her undried hand dampens my own hand. And when I let go in protest she chases me through the restaurant trying to touch me. Her mother is never amused by this which makes me want to take out my niece and bring her back with a sugar high.
Another supper I had involved huge pre-planning, it was a year in the making. It involved going with a friend of mine who is mentally challenged (PC?). When I yelled at my father for asking if he was "like retarded" he apologized saying that he doesn't know "the proper term for it these days" and proceeded to ask, "Well, is he a twit then?" Anyway, this friend of mine (who is waaay less challenged than me or my father) got into his head that this waiter at the Olive Garden who I said was a hot (a year ago) is my lover and I should ask him to marry me.
So, we all piled in the car to seek out this waiter, let's call him Trick. On the car ride there my friend suggested that I go to Target and buy Trick a wedding ring. I remember Trick being quite cute and if I had any money that may have been an option. I got kind of excited to be embarrassed by my friend's in front of Trick, thinking of it as a movie plot where two lovers meet. Anyway, we ate our entire meal and kept our eyes out for Trick as he wasn't waiting on us. There was no Trick in fact there was only one man working in the entire place. And according to our waitress Trick doesn't even work there anymore. I guess it's a good thing that I didn't go to Target and pick out a wedding ring.
My large friend hates cologne. But, when I pulled out a sample given to me earlier in the day for the hot guy pictured on the front she whipped around in the driver's seat and seized it. She immediately started to bellyache about the odor until she saw what the perfume was. She grinned and said, "I have to get me some of that." She sniffed. "The one for men?" "Yep." Why?" " Because..." she proceed to tell us that she was in love with the guy promoting the fragrance on TV. When we finally guessed who the guy was she said, "Yep, Matthew. I gotta get some of that and spray it." "Where?" I asked. "Everywhere I need to." If all it took for sexual gratification was scenting up your cootchie with perfume the world would be a much happier place.
The final supper I had out was at Taco Bell. This was after the Olive Garden and an opportunity to consume my second supper of the evening. I declined, but my friend was hungry. We went inside as the window of the car I am driving doesn't roll down. We walked in and were met with glaring florescent lighting, a confusing color scheme, and a man with horrible teeth, a mustache, and nasty fingernails. And after I asked this creature what exactly is in an Enchirito I realized I had found who I wanted to become my new best friend. He knew exactly what is in an Enchirito and described it like he was doing a voice over for a commercial on it. He also gave us coupons to try some sort of Cinnamon Twist and didn't show any signs of irritability when we took over 10 minutes to figure out what to order.
He gave us some sort of phone number to call so that we have a chance to win like 1000 bucks. There was something downright mystical in his description of how you never know when you could just call up and be a winner. This was all fine but there was something about the way he said, "Somebody up in the cities won it last year and I'd like to see someone closer to here win it this year." Who would ever have thought that not going through the drive thru would change your life. I wonder if it'd be weird to call and get his work schedule.
Which brings us to today. My friend and I spent most of our time shopping in a nearby town flitting from shop to shop and looking at expensive bobbles and owl-shapped handbags in fancy boutiques. Most of the items we purchased though came from K-mart. You just can't beat a cheaply made purse for 10 bucks and if it's made in China or Bangledesh it's imported, right?
No matter how much I should like to play Scrabble I will always hate it. I will always think that I should be a better player that I should find bigger words than my opponents and get bingos. Instead I play words like tit and try for laughs while clenching my teeth at my spoiled potential. The only difference (at least according to home video evidence) betweeen me at 5 and me at 26 is that at 5 I cried and refused to play the games that made me feel like a loser. Well, at least I was being honest then and flailing around your arms is fun. I sense a return to my former self coming on. Hopefully I will get to wear ugly party dresses with bows on the ass and lace-bottomed panties again.
More adventuring tomorrow.
-Canadian (U.S.) Castaway
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