Day 137
You know people read your blog when: They are ahead of you in the supper line and you ask them what is for dinner and they respond, "VAFN." I wasn't that shocked that my friend knew that VAFN means vaguely asian food night but, as always, I was shocked that it was VAFN night, AGAIN. This happens entirely too much. At least tonight I declined the greens that they usually pile on my plate. They taste like boiled fake hosta plants. When I said, "No thanks," the smiley cook asked me, "Why don't you like the greens?" At least I found out I wasn't a dead soul when I didn't tell him that they tasted like boiled plastic and rubber shaped vaguely like leaves I just said, "I just don't care for them." Geez, maybe I am becoming more Canadian. The only shitty part is that nobody popped out with a ribbon to place on my chest saying, "Politeness Award" so chances are next time I might spill the truth on Mr. Toothy Grin who likes to torture me with VAFN and reclaim my American-ness.
You know your day is boring when you chat online all day on facebook but you know your day is super boring when you watch country music videos for an hour when you can't stand country music. Okay, so my friend in Nashville has a crush on one of the guys in the band that she met the other day at her high profile country music job. But, it only takes a few minutes of a country music video to check out what a guy looks like. What I was more interested in was the not-so-pretty guy in the band. After I watched all of their music videos I watched the "making of" video of their video. The not-so-pretty guy turns out to be not-so-bright guy as well. He was breathing cliched phrases about his experience on the video for 4 minutes and 15 seconds of their 7 minute video. It was around this time that I almost started re-watching their videos but somehow (my neighbor came over) stopped myself.
The rest of the day was spent plotting sitcoms. Translation: making caricatures of my family for the purpose of mass entertainment. And, going to the library. I have decided that I cannot study at the library until I find antibacterial wipes to carry in my backpack as every surface of the place is stained with miscellaneous/unidentifiable liquids which totally sucks because it is always fun to add to the ridiculous graffiti in the carrels. I had a book on reserve though, so I had to go in. I checked out the book and left not realizing that the bringing home books from that pit of a library is probably just as bad as laying your homework on the unidentifiable liquids, maybe worse.
Anyway, so the book I checked out is a YA novel about girls growing up in a polygamist sect. Since the scandal in Texas when they raided Warren Jeff's hood and I first saw the women and children with their creepy hair and long skirts I have been intrigued. Entire days would go buy with me reading about this stuff on the Internet. I bought memoirs about it. I watched video online and read follow ups to the raid like they were sustenance. After starting to read this latest book I feel it coming on again and I am finally ready to admit: I am a polygamy addict. Reading about polygamy is my crack. Well, at least I can openly admit it. Maybe there are others out there. I thought about starting a support group for polygamist media junkies but then realized that I don't want to meet the types of people who are addicted to it. There are many things I want to know but I think I finally found where to draw the line.
So, after supper I once again saw Whip It. Actually, I ditched out of the potluck so that I might see Whip It again. Then all night long I talked about skating and looked up skates online. But I wonder, how bad is it that you would rather see a movie for the second time in a row than hang out with your friends who are offering you food? Shit, another addiction: roller derby. Pretty soon I will have to quit grad school just to tend to my eccentric (polite word for crazed) hobbies.
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment