Day 132
Today after I got my pastrami sandwich (which, just so happened to be the special of the day) and chocolate milk I went to class. As we workshopped some articles the same old shit happened: the same three people spoke and I was bored. At one point though the instructor looked at me and said, "What do you think?" The article being workshopped was about a technique used for better posture and it's writer had pitched the idea to the class before writing the piece. Anyway, he repeats, "What do you think?" I said, "Remember when she (the writer) pitched this piece to the class and she said that after she herself started practicing the technique her husband found her sexier?" Everyone gave me blank, open-mouthed stares. "I just wanted to know why that wasn't in the article? Where is the sexy?" The instructor, after unscrunching his face said, "Okay, moving on."
So, before I went to work at the pub tonight I whined to my mother on the phone about how I didn't want to go. Then she told me that I could stand to lose a hundred pounds and then she told me that when I get to work I should just repeat over and over, "I am so excited to be at work." I had a wine cooler instead. But wouldn't you know it I had an exciting evening. And here are a few reasons why:
I got an umbrella back that was stolen from me months ago by a co-worker. And to think I was about to buy a new one as the one I had stolen broke.
My favorite cook was working and he beat me in darts and one-upped me on a joke. Normally, I would not appreciate such acts but I have an enormous soft spot for Brazilian men who invite me to their home countries.
A group of about 8 19 year old men came in. When I was checking one of their IDs his friends informed me that it was his birthday. I looked at the group and asked, "Is this your birthday party." He said, "Sort of, I guess." I looked around the table of young, presumably straight, men and back to the birthday boy and said, "There are no girls at your party, huh?"
A group of Germans came in. I don't know what it is about Germans but I like having them in a bar. They give off a warm beery glow.
My friend came to visit and left a handprint on my shoulder from where she smacked me. Apparently, the origin of her nickname wasn't all that appealing to her.
The big creeper guy I work with noticed a bottle of pink nailpolish someone had left behind and started to apply it. We joked, thinking that he wouldn't continue. And before I knew it his left hand was already painted and I was painting his right hand. An hour later he was whining that he didn't have a wig to wear or a dress.
I got to play cats cradle. You know that yarn game. Me and four friends played it for quite some time. The four of us were all from different countries and yet everyone knew how to play. It hit me, cats cradle should be used in international relations. You don't even need to know another language to play.
Moving on (well, to an earlier part of the evening, oops), tonight the girl I don't like sat by me for dinner and asked me all kinds of questions about how I was doing. I am taking the space below to write a letter to her.
Dear Girl who tries to be so effing polite that she thinks jokes aren't funny,
If I declined to be your friend on facebook and I don't speak to you when you are around why is it that you would feel compelled to interact with me? Oh wait, because you are delusional enough to think that everybody needs to be friends. Alright back up, I did answer your inquiries. Was I egging you on? Or do you get a thrill out of knowing that in an effort to not be rude I must answer? Clever. Well, next time you feel compelled to sit by me and ask me personal questions maybe I won't say anything at all. Huh? Then what?
Love, your nemesis
Alright, I must make a confession. I just stalked the Brazilian online and found his facebook page. I wrote him a note and requested to be his friend. This is all fine and whatever but, I sorta hinted that the reason I did it was because I'd "had a cocktail." Okay, so I did have a cocktail like an hour ago but am nowhere near drunk. But, I used the lie of being drunk to make it okay for me to be stalking him online. Is that terrible or genius or creepy?
-Canadian Castaway
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