Day 148
So the illness continues in that disgusting I only have toilet paper to wipe the snot out of my hair kinda way. Somehow this didn't stop me from getting a pita and being a whiny bitch. Instead of locking myself in to my own misery I ventured out (no one to hear me whine inside) to prove that being sick doesn't mean that you won't spend all of your money on rollerskates and gear. At least the woman who sold them to me had faith that I would make it in the derby world, after trying on every pair of XL kneepads in the store and finding them all too small my faith wained.
To get the skates a friend of mine picked me up in his car. He let me play The Clash on shuffle and we cruised and it was then I learned something horrible about this wonderful Canadian city: there are no friggin freeways through town. Seriously should it take 35 minutes to put across town? When we were stuck for like 34 kilometers (no idea what a kilometer is) behind a tiny white-haired woman in a red hat and shit car I was proud to be an American. If this were in my homelands we'd fly past the broad on a proper road where you can go 80 mph (230 kph?). Mother effing Canada.
Tonight, despite my illness, I went to work. I was scheduled to work what is called a Graduate Student Society Council Meeting: a fancy phrase for a formal event where people get to eat buffet food and get smashed on free beer while they decide how Grad school should be run. The first half hour was me serving beer when I wasn't supposed to. Apparently, someone realized that getting annihilated is a bad thing when choosing how to govern a "Society." Instead of telling me to stop giving out beer the "President" (useless title for a guy who can't make decisions but looks good in a suit) said, "Well, the beer seems to make them happier so keep serving it."
At the council meeting was the guy that I kissed when I was drunk before I learned from The Girls of Hedsor Hall how to be a lady with self respect (not working out too well so far). He is also known as the man with gorgeous thighs. Anyway, the day after the kiss he went to India for 2 months. So he comes up to me and orders a beer and I look at his thighs and his puffy lips and dark eyes and am rather enjoying the awkwardness of him standing near me trying to find something to say when his friend shows up. His friend with a low English voice and a cute smile. Thigh guy introduced the Englishman as his friend perhaps as a way to scope me out to see if I am worthwhile. But, what ended up happening was that I fell for the Englishman. Moral: Don't introduce your English-accented friends to the girl you like to get their opinion of her unless your thighs are in view.
Misc. Sick-headed thoughts (translation: the shit I think between blowing my nose on toilet paper and coughs):
What does it say about a person if she'd rather bitch and moan about her microwave oatmeal consistency than get a measuring cup?
Why is Vanilla Ice wearing a "University of Miami" sweatshirt in the Ice Ice Baby video? Why do I know that? I'd blame it on cold medicine had I taken any.
Were MC Hammer's glass cool back in the day? And how did I not know that Can't Touch This has the same rhythm of Superfreak?
Would I like the songs from Pretty in Pink if I had not seen the movie?
Jedward is a little frightening in the do I find this twosome of 14 year olds hot or not...what does it mean if I do?
Seriously, this is all I've got today. Maybe I ought to take that cold medicine afterall it might make things more exciting or help me to sleep through the boring parts.
-Canadian Castaway
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