Day 98
It's funny how one can spend the entire day watching TV shows and movies and eating and not really feel all that guilty about it. Maybe I'm just turning into my father. I did speak with him today on the phone shortly after my mother put me on hold to wipe her ass he got on the line. He told me that he was, "counting down the days" until I returned home. And, after two minutes of conversation curtly said, "Alright well, I've had enough talking to you."
After I hung up I realized that if I was turning into my father it would be alright--he says and does hilarious things. But now I wonder, does he think it's funny, too? Does he realize what he is saying comes of as silly? I think the answer to that is: probably not. I had better change my ways. Maybe it's too late. I mean we already have so much in common like candy and a general disdain for people and taking out our nonsensical emotional outbursts on the wrong people. Plus, what started out as me mocking his sayings has faded into his sayings becoming part of my daily vocabulary. Yeah well...(shit, he says that)
So earlier today my bodyguard showed up to go with me to lunch. As soon as I walked out to meet him he started going on a tirade about how the night before he was so drunk that he put on someone elses "overcoat" at the bar. We walked to the bar to investigate the situation. The entire time he whined about how he didn't like this "overcoat," he asked my opinion and I told him that it looked funny. He whined that he would have to replace his "overcoat" or get used to this one. He said "overcoat" 26 times during the 5 block walk to the bar. He spent 2 blocks whining, 1 block convincing himself that this new "overcoat" wasn't so bad, that he could get used to it. The fourth block he dug into the pockets looking for clues. He found a airline ticket stub with the name of a professor of our program on it in the pocket, a professor he happens to work for. The final block was a mix of laughter at finding the owner so easily and dread that his coat wouldn't be at the pub.
Of course his coat was at the pub. We returned the other one and instead of getting fired the professor declared that he was giving him a five dollar per hour raise. Which is funny seeing as the coat didn't really matter to the professor as he had only walked two blocks in the cold last night before passing out in our building being too drunk to get home. Anyway, we finally got on the bus to go to brunch. On the bus ride, before our mutual bitching about being hungry, a guy and 5 trash bags full of bottles and cans got on. I was just telling my bodyguard that I was thinking about switching my writing focus to nonfiction, that there was just too much brilliant shit going on in real life that I couldn't make up anything that would be better. The entire time the can guy rearranged his bags of cans and bottles behind our heads and blew his nose into a never ending supply of brown paper towels. In a pause in conversation my bodyguard turned to me and said, "It smells like beer on here." I pointed to the cans behind our heads. He smiled.
We got to the restaurant where I met the place's namesake and nearly curled into a ball on the floor due to her celebrity. My friends took the opportunity to make fun of me for this display. My friends do not aspire to be cafe owners who are cute little old ladies that still greet customers. We sat near the kitchen so as for me to have a view of the delicious cooks. I sang and ate and freaked out about silverware scraping on teeth. All in all it was quite wonderful but, the owner of the cafe kept her distance. Does that make me a creep or was she just busy? I don't want to know. All I know for sure is that when I become a little old lady cafe owner I should wear green dresses and have white hair.
After dinner my bodyguard and I went to the candystore where he didn't buy anything. He never does. That didn't stop him for asking for candy as soon as we got out the door. He even specified which type of gummy he wanted, refusing the fangs that I offered and opting for the soda bottles. But, I must admit that I was grateful for him on the bus ride home. Eating Pop Rocks alone isn't nearly as fun as putting your ear up to a friend's mouth to hear the crackle while a group of high class teenagers watches, making mental notes of snarky remarks to say to each other about how ridiculous we were as soon as they got off the bus. They're just jealous.
The rest of my day was spent watching Paris Hilton is My New BFF, a movie called Stay Tuned, and Gilmore Girls episodes. Come on, I'm in the writing program it's called, "Research." I love grad school. This morning I visited a friend I hadn't seen in quite some time. I asked how she was doing and she gave me a long list of papers and exams that she needs to complete and she asked me what I had been up to. I said, "Oh you know, going to parties and I think today I will just lounge." She gave me a hard look and said something to the effect of, "That must be nice." And I realized yeah it ain't so bad, except Onch was eliminated from Paris Hilton is My BFF.
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment