Day 161
Today instead of doing homework I complied my blog entries from the Emily Papers thus far and put them all into a Word document. Turns out I have like 240 pages of a Word doc. My first thought was, "Wow, now I can tell all those people who don't really think I am writing that much that I am writing a lot." My second thought was, "My life over the past couple months was so exciting that the re-telling of it warranted 240 pages?! That's insane." I feel special in both the extraordinary way and the Special Ed. kinda way. The nuttiest thing is that I know of one person for sure who has read this blog nearly every damn day. To that person I say thank you and get a life! (But, don't get a life too much because then I wouldn't have anyone to hang out with except cyber people, but I am not sure that they will interact with me by throwing rocks at my window and there is something I particularly enjoy about people who throw rocks at my window).
This was after I paid tuition and realized that I have no money and after I thought about joining a pyramid scheme or becoming a clown. Eventually all of these thoughts led to me getting another job. I went to the Career Centre on campus and found out that Canada will let you have healthcare (if you pay 50 bucks a month for it) but will not let you work a job if you haven't lived here for six months, filled out a lengthy questionnaire and submitted it with 150 bucks and waited 8 weeks for them to maybe decide you can work here. But, for some reason I am allowed to work on campus. But Emily, I thought you work at the pub. Isn't that off campus, you say. Well no, see Canada is like the parents that had the booze fridge outside, unlocked when you were 14 and camping in your friend's yard. Not only does mother Canada allow its children to drink at a young age (19) she also gives them a bar on campus.
Anyway, so the lady at the front desk of the Career Centre was wonderful and helpful. She told me of a great program for international students where they can find jobs on campus and gave me an email address to contact the person who knows about the program. I thanked the kind woman, went home, and sent an email. Within an hour I was sent a response stating that I could not qualify for the program as I am a graduate student and the program is for undergrads only. This made me want to do 2 things: 1. Go and marry a Canadian so I could save 150 bucks because then I wouldn't have to apply for a work permit. and, 2. Go back to the Career Centre and hug the woman who thought I was young and stupid-looking enough to be an undergrad.
In other news, I had lamb for the first time in my life. Conclusion: It was chewy. The greatest part about lamb is having the following conversation with your seatmate:
You: "What do you think this lamb looked like when it was alive?"
Unsuspecting Canadian-type: I don't know. White and fluffy?"
You: "Have you ever been to a farm where they raise lambs?"
Unsuspecting Canadian: "No."
You: "Well, I have and let me tell you, lambs are dirty, disgusting creatures.
Tonight I worked at the pub with the Dirty Bingo addict man. The one who tells me to diet and always thinks I am mad at him. I spent most of the night avoiding him. There was a good solid hour when I didn't feel like reading the boring Sasquatch story I have to read for class but I stared at the words anyway so I wouldn't have to interact with Bingo man. He is a roundish, older man (40s) with a sexual predator-esque voice. Anyway, I noticed that a female customer was talking to him animatedly and I didn't think she was even drunk. She asked his name and where he was from and giggled throughout. He seemed somewhat oblivious and when she finally walked away I had the following conversation with him:
"So, she was like totally into you."
"There are many women who like me."
And, the rest is just me laughing.
Tip of the Day: Want to get back at your boss for sending you a ton of hatful emails? Then steal 8 tea bags from work. But, be careful not to feel guilty all the way home. (Hell, even if you do feel guilty, you'll get over it.)
-Canadian Castaway
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