Day 123 (aka the day we ran out of mixers for the Malibu)
So, here we are again. I really wasn't going to write anything tonight. For an entire hour I tried to remember what happened yesterday and nothing at all came to mind. Finally, I remembered that yesterday was the day that my mother really did kick me out. It started off all nice and sweet with a, "Why don't you get out of the house for awhile." But it ended with, "And don't worry about coming back."
This was a few hours into cleaning out her pantry. This was quite the excursion for example: there was food in there that expired in 1999. There were also bugs. Not the scary alive ones but the scary dead ones. Seriously, we should've left everything the way it was and brought in school buses of elementary kids to show them a museum of every plague of house pest from the past 12 years. The worst part of all was that my mother insisted on keeping 128 pieces of Tupperware. Sure she stacked them all together to try and make it look like she wasn't keeping all that much but, I knew better. I tried to make her pledge to me that she would never, ever purchase anymore Gladware. Her response was in the form of a sneer. I went back to bug carcass identification and was eventually kicked out.
On the road I blasted classic rock and called my friends to tell them how my mother told me not to come back home. I was thrilled that my mother no longer wanted me around and thrilled that I had already put 11 miles between me and mother and her Tupperware and that was when the car died. I limped it back to the gas station a mile back down the road and my parents came to switch cars with me. When I told them that I would follow them in the broken car they insisted that I take the good car and get the hell out of town. Never in my life have I loved them more.
The rest of the night is kind of a blur of trying not to obviously stare at the cute-ish guy writing a script in the coffeeshop and stopping by to see my friend where we had a discussion on how to properly groom our pubic hair. According to her it's all about "maintenance." This is the same friend I visited this evening. She invited me to a dinner which she made but I made a velveeta cheese sandwich instead and it was incredible. It was the type of sandwich that made you want to get high just so you could eat it and prove that it was just as incredible as you'd originally thought.
So today was pretty much a repeat of yesterday except I kicked myself out and drove a working car as a getaway and there was no hot guy to oogle at the coffeeshop and I miss Canada slightly more than yesterday. For the past few weeks I have been trying to identify why I miss the great north so much. I toiled over the answer as though it were my excuse for not spending my time producing writing and reading books. I have finally came to the answer and it's a simple one: Canada is not here. Pretty boring, huh? That makes writing about dead bug removal seem like The Return of the King.
The other main difference between today and yesterday was that today I ate salami. My life has forever changed. For years I was a vegetarian. I wasn't the annoying sort of vegetarian who decides not to eat meat as some sort of political statement though, I just did it mostly to piss off my father (it totally worked). Seven years later I finally have gone back to the meat. But, it wasn't until today that I discovered the reason why we eat meat. It's not about the protein or any of that garbage, no. The reason we eat meat is so that we can eat salami. The king of all meats. I asked my parents what the salami is made from and they had no idea. But, that's not what is important, in fact, don't even look at it or think of calories just let it mingle with your saliva glands in the space under your tongue and next to your teeth and you can throw out all of your dildos and never have to buy batteries again.
Anyway, tomorrow I will be interviewing the candy man in St. Paul (my chocolate smore dealer). So maybe there will be more exciting news. Until then I will hang out on facebook hoping that my suitor will chat with me and dreaming of my arrival back to my (dare, I say) homeland. I will imagine a thousand people cheering me on as I get off the plane while they wave Canadian Flags and I will be dressed as a giant, red maple leaf doing the princess parade wave to my welcome back committee. Oh, Canada...
-Canadian (U.S.) Castaway
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