Day 138
Today I stabbed myself and not in the everything-sucks-I-want-to-see-myself-bleed-to-know that-I-am-alive way it was more the don't-cut-toward-yourself-or-you-are-gonna-hurt-yourself way. What can I say it's hard to keep a fat girl out of her cheese supply. Perhaps I ought to pen a letter regarding proper/safe packaging to the cheese companies. Vacuum-sealed is too tough and fuck those zipper packs too sometimes one must turn the knife on a stubborn one of those as well. I want velcro. Nobody ever stabbed themselves trying to bust into velcro...that I know of.
Promptly after the stabbing I went to buy a coke out of the French-operated machine, you know the one that instead of having the cozy familiar red and white soda labels, that have been time-tested to be effective in brand recognition and associated with quality it sports hand-written on lined notebook paper the French words for soda and "diete" soda. Hey guy who runs the soda machine, Quebec called and nobody could understand what it said because we don't speak French here. Wait, is that being intolerant? Wait, I am not Canadian, I don't care whether or not I am being impolite. But, I will admit I am constantly mumbling "sorry" like it were a reflex. As if to mock my anti-Quebec mentality (that was put into place by one, Olivier-skeezy Quebecois that wears short shorts and cheats on his girlfriend) the machine ate my twoonie.
Is it evil to crochet the ugliest yarn you can find into an afghan to put on your bed so that when people come over and they see this hideous thing you can judge them as a human being based on how they respond to it?
So I can't decide which part of the day was better? 1. Having my TV series pitch picked apart by a crowd of freshmen who are mostly writing zombie shows. Gee, what great times. 2. Putting what is called, "Raw food" into my mouth. It looked dark green and chunky and tasted like compost smells. Hard to pick. Ohh wait, stabbing myself and then promptly losing 2 bucks tops both.
So, the guy who only talks to me online told me today that I am a goddess to him and that I remind him of the Hindi goddess, May Bhavani. Is this a good thing? Am I supposed to be flattered or creeped out? Let me tell you it's hard to find out because when you search that name on wikipedia you find an entry for a goddess but it looks amorphously fat and like it has no head in one of its renditions. I asked my suitor via our facebook chat who she was and he said, "I will tell you later." This coming from the man who can't be in the same room with me, in person that is. I should've asked whether or not he would tell me or type me, but I already know the answer to that.
Tip of the Day: When your friend offers you gifts from Nepal decline on the prayer flag because once you get it to your room you realize that it's not really your thing but you never know when he may stop by for a visit and an inquisition.
-Canadian Castaway
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