Day 134
Today I went back yet again to the bookstore and couldn't make it in the door as it was stuffed with undergrads who walk at a Night of the Living Dead-type zombie pace. How the hell did those humans let all of those slow-moving corpses kill them? Those dumb asses deserved it. Anyway, I went in, saw the serpentine line of around 75 people and started back out the door, due to zombies this took 15 minutes and I still don't have a notebook or folder for my classes. I am using the same notebook for everything which is tiny and Christmas-colored bearing the word, "Naughty" in bold red letters. The friend who gave me the damn thing after she no doubt fished it out of a dollar bin at Target said something to the effect of, "They had one that said, "Nice" but I didn't think that was appropriate."
After I huffed it uphill four blocks down and up the stairs to the bookstore walked another 4 blocks at a quickened pace (those bastard zombies made me late) and limped up four flights of stairs to my department I staggered into the lounge and between gasps said, "I am going to die. We all are going to die. Everyone." Nobody seemed impressed or asked if I was alright. One girl called me "mean" and my bodyguard agreed. How the fuck do you get into a grad program for writing when you can't even read? I am "naughty."
The first and only class of the day was about how to write for radio. This course allegedly teaches you how to write radio dramas (whatever the hell they are). This class, like my writing for TV class, has undergrads in it. This group however, unlike the TV group, are good looking. But, that doesn't mean they are not annoying. The most flamboyant of the bunch (the guy wearing silver shoes and had a hair sweep) was reading a book about how to get your boyfriend to pop the question. He tells the other undergrads what's it's about and the girl across from him exploded, "Why doesn't the woman just ask him?" She let a tiny pause go by before exploding with, "I am not a feminist, don't get me wrong." She said the word "feminist" like it was "I do not have scabies!" There was a more awkward pause before she said, "If my boyfriend doesn't ask me to marry him I am going to punch him in the head!" While this was amusing I found another girl's deadpan answer to how to get your boyfriend to marry you much more amusing. She said, "Just get pregnant."
While I was working at the pub tonight a table of guys guzzled down many pitchers of beer. They remained overly polite but I noticed that they got louder, much louder. I was wiping down the table next to theirs when the big guy started shouting out a story. Normally, I would roll my eyes and get inwardly pissed off at him and all drunks and guys in general but not tonight. Tonight I tried a new tactic and it worked. Here is what you do: loom near him, make eye contact, and then put your hand up and pretend like you are turning an invisible volume nob down. Not only does this work but it makes him go on and on about how he screwed up, which is kind of funny until it gets annoying but you can walk away.
Tip of the Day: If you bite your lip until it bleeds eat sour candy carefully.
-Canadian Castaway
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