Day 103
My apologies about not posting yesterday. Most of the day was spent commuting to the airport and then on the plane to get here. Where am I you ask? I am finally back in the hick town where I came from and yesterday I had no car, no cellphone, and no internet. Today I have no car or cellphone. Hopefully tomorrow will get progressively better even though I already appended my name on facebook to show a status that reads, "misses Canada." The only solace thus far has been that I hooked up a TV in my old room and watched some Roseanne and Dawson's Creek (whatever, it's a good drama, sorta). By the way since my parents refused to get wireless internet I am typing this on a computer that is from 1993 (the same year as the Chevy Cavalier I had that had a fire under the hood, maybe this Dell will have the same fate).
So yesterday I woke up at 7:30 after closing down the pub and miraculously remembered to throw out my bag of fresh carrots before I left (well, they weren't that fresh really, I have good intentions with produce but candy tastes better). I got on a bus and then a train and then a plane. After sitting in the airport for quite sometime sneakily studying the people around me: pacing white-haired man, group of meathead men who probably drive Yukons, and a woman whose was fairly pretty except that she had a GIANT second chin on her face, I decided to play Chuzzle on my laptop for an hour.
The plane ride was awesome as I had a row to myself. I stretched out and knit for awhile hoping someone would comment on it, nobody did. I wrote a letter to my aunt and snuck peeks at the Asian dude kitty corner to my seat and wondered why he was staring at me (duh, cause I was staring at him, this didn't occur to me). Finally, I got off the plane, walked the equivalent of seven blocks to retrieve my baggage and went out to the curb to wait for my friend to pick me up. I waited and WAITED. I felt the cold air paralyze my lungs and thought about finding a phone to call a cab and cursed and asked strangers for the time like I was assaulting them. I saw my friend's car whiz past after 20 minutes of waiting and I took my giant bag and sprinted for another four blocks to get it. I flung open the door and screamed, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Maybe I should go back to cigarettes or start kickboxing.
We went straight to Taco Bell. After two 7 layer burritos and a soda I was all better. The car ride was an hour long to get home which was not enough time for my friend to spill all the details about what I had missed at the restaurant back home. But, my favorite story was not about people at the restaurant it was an exhibit of my driver's laziness. She told me that she never cooks and that two days ago she had decided that she wanted chicken wings and had found some at the store that she could make in the microwave. She brought them home and they fell in the crack between her stove and her counter. She bent over the counter and grabbed at them and tried to stab the bag with a broom handle and failed so there is a bag of used-to-be-frozen chicken wings rotting in her kitchen.
When we made it home she flung open my parents door and turned the football game on the TV plopped down in my dad's lazy boy and ate my parents pickles out of the jar without using a fork (I thought my father would die). Did I mention that she's only been in my parents' house twice. I love her. During half time she demanded a piece of paper so she could map out what she called a "tenative schedule" for my entire visit home. I think today I was supposed to get my haircut.
Later on that night my parents had a fight about stuffed animals. My dad told me I was to help him bag up the stuffed animals in the basement to give away. My mother promptly told him that she didn't want him to do this without her consent because he may give away stuffed objects that she wants to keep (even though she hasn't been down to the basement to see these creatures in 10 years). He told her that he would take care of it that she wasn't around to help and that he had to do everything regarding getting rid of stuff. I pointed out that they have had this exact argument in the past but with reversed roles. They did not find this humorous and really didn't find the fact that I was tearing up from laughter funny either.
Since my brother is using my parents extra car and my dad doesn't work we got to spend the day together. By the time I got up he was listening to Dr. Laura on the radio and smoking cigarettes in the house (a habit that he said he didn't do anymore). He pointed to the ancient computer which I am now typing on and declared that they now have the internet (literally, for the first time ever).
I laughed and said, "Dad, you are the only person I know who doesn't have an email account. You gonna get one now?" "Nope, and let me tell you why..." And then he launched into this story about how everybody has an email account and all those people do all day is sit around emailing everyone they know. "And, they expect you to reply," he said. Then he told me that this was all these people (everyone?) did all day long instead of living. I guess sitting around smoking cigarettes and listening to Dr. Laura is living then? I couldn't take it anymore, this was rich material, so I started to write down his words especially after he said, "I went to the car show at a nudist colony." He saw what I was doing and said, "I was gonna tell you that story but I'm not going to anymore. You'll probably just put it on the internet. Don't put any information about me on the friggin internet." hehehe.
This evening my mother came home and took me to the next town over to go to Wal-mart. We milled around looking at cheap crap and later we went to the grocery store. I noticed two things about the town 1. It smelled like raw sewage. And, 2. Every person we encountered had at least one child and/or was wearing pajamas. All had unkempt ratty hair. No wonder that guy said hello to me at the grocery store I am the hottest chick in that town. Huh, maybe I should move there.
Well, I am held captive here for 20 some more days. I will try to keep this blog updated secretly at night unless I run off with grocery store guy.
-Canadian (US) Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment