Day 152
Tater tot Monday continues along with the tots comes eggs, along with the eggs comes bacon. I noticed 3 things this morning pertaining to bacon: 1. There is nobody monitoring it. and 2. I am not ashamed to take six slices, eat them and wish I had more. 3. If all truly goes to shit in my life I will never be truly unhappy (unless some health freak stops the production of bacon).
Tonight I found myself singing in my room around midnight. You know just a little Rilo Kiley and Lisa Loeb, nothing fancy. Then I remembered the other day how when I left my I-tunes running at a medium volume I could hear it clearly in the hallway. I stopped singing for a moment. Well, until I realized that I always sing in my room. Then, I had an epiphany: if no one has ever come to complain or said any passive aggressive comments at the dinner table it must mean that I am a spectacular singer. Or, there are a touch too many polite Canadians around here. (But, I am pretty sure my neighbor is from Spain.)
What does it mean if I actually like Avril Lavigne? Would this raise my Canada cred? Or have Canadians disowned her. Is it better or worse to like Alanis (which I do)? What about Celine (still bitter about hearing that effing Titanic song like 348 times)? Whatever, I am still gonna kick it with Avril. I mean they should have her picture on the Canadian flag she not only has recorded 3 albums she even wrote the songs herself. They should be proud. But, as I am trying to think of something specific Canadians show pride about I am coming up with nothing. But they do have tons of apparel emblazoned with the flag or reading, "CANADA" so does that mean they are proud of their country or just super good at merchandising?
A friend came over tonight and told me that not only do I have severe ADD I am also turning Canadian. She said that I was starting to say, about as a-boot. I was truly insulted. I managed to avoid saying about altogether but more often than anyone would imagine I used the word: out. This word in my mother dialect sounds like, "oww-t" in Canadian it sounds like "aoo-t." I am turning Canadian. Just then a Canadian came by and remarked that I am saying, "I'm sorry" a lot more than when he first met me. I gasped, how could this be happening? I am a traitor. I've since decided to ease up on myself but when I start pronouncing been as bean and process not as prah-cess but PRO-cess I am deporting myself. Sorry, Canada you can't have this girl, but I will say there are some very attractive Canadian men running around--I'll consider dual citizenship but I am still not saying bean or PRO-cess.
Derby Training Day #4:
So, I was getting down on myself for not having the courage to skate outside of my room as I think I suck and must look like a traveling freakshow on wheels. I didn't even put my skates on nearly all day they just sat there and oogled me from the floor, radiating energy that said, 'you paid 160 dollars for us, sucker.' My friend dropped by (see Canadian-ness allegations above) and tried them on. She sort of flopped around on them much like I do and it made me feel amazing. For a minute I was truly grateful to call her my friend well, until she farted on my bed--she'll say she didn't but I know what the 'I just let one rip' face looks like. At least she gave me a watermelon Airhead (well, part of one). Anyway, I got back on the skates for about 10 minutes.
The real plan though is to hit the parking ramp next door on Saturday with a rollerblader friend of mine. I guess if I break my neck from falling off the six floor or smacking into the bumper of a Hummer I could sue the ramp owner. Unless we get caught and thrown out you say--don't be silly this is Canada they won't kick you out unless you insulted hockey--shit, you could go in there with an armed militia and they would not only let you stay but apologize for not being more accommodating. (sorry, Canada now that I am allegedly one of you I must dole out more hatred because everyone knows that humor comes from hating oneself--ehh fuck that, I am just a bitchy, hurtful, pride-filled American girl)
Tip of the Day: Plain light rye Wasa crackers will never, under no amount of imagining, taste even remotely like Nacho Cheese Doritos, ever.
-Canadian Castaway
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