Day 159
I have no skillz. I turn into Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed or Mary Katherine Gallagher in Superstar whenever a boy I like approaches. I am so bad that I know that I can't blame having watched these movies a million times as an excuse for it: it's part of who I am. Case in point, a cute guy I am crushing on walks up beside me today and I do a double take and let out a scream and then say, "Oh, I know you." He gives me a blank look. I say, "What?" He said, "Do I scare you?" "No, you are just tall," I say (really giddy and fast without eye contact). He looks confused. "I am just scared of everything that is taller than me," I say (not true). "Oh, I just normally don't get that reaction when people see me." "Well I guess that's a good thing because then that means that they are not scared of you being tall. hahaha." He didn't laugh and I didn't cry (amazingly). Later I added myself to his small legion of fans on facebook (of course, he's a fucking musician, 2 years of Rock and Roll school and you would think I would learn my lesson) and immediately wanted to undo my fandom, afraid that he may write and ask who I am and I would have to say, "The girl who screamed at you and said it was because you are tall but actually I screamed because I have never been that close to you and I think you are cute."
So I have been accused of treating undergrads as peons just because I do not take the time to learn their names. Today I spent a good half an hour creeping an undergrad from the program online Note: I know his name--how could I not it's the same name as one of the Seven Dwarves? The best part about the creep is that I had a trusted gal pal by my side encouraging me and having fake organisms and arguments about whether the guy in question looked better with long hair or short (short, I conceded). Who said I don't like undergrads? And I realized something internet stalking doesn't have to be creepy at all. Actually, when stalking with friends it can be quite enjoyable. In fact, I am even thinking about making it a sport. It takes talent and endurance to find someone with a Seven Dwarf name as your only clue.
After a grueling morning workshop that began with a student arguing with a teacher over formatting and ended 15 minutes late that also included a good bashing of the old lady in my story (seriously, who beats an old woman) and after I got a pep talk from a classmate assuring me I am not an idiot (Note: she has had mental health issues in the past) and that I just need to believe in myself and all that jazz I was ready for some good old American-style therapy: TV (sorry, that was the longest sentence I have ever written). I can't really tell if it's the pleasure of being in command as you press the channel buttons, the way that you are deliberately going against everything by wasting time or the fact that half of the people on TV are stupid and ridiculous but something about it makes it work better than Xanax and booze combined.
I started off my night of television alone watching the final episodes of Taking the Stage. And just when I feared that I may have to get a life and start doing my homework (I had reached the end of season 1) a friend showed up. She and I raided the snack machine--the best party was when we couldn't decide what kind of chips to buy and when we were both standing there is our chubby glory 2 skinnies walked by and stared. Then we set to work watching first MTV's The Buried Life where we were both biting our nails to see if one of the guys would actually ask out the girl of his dreams (he didn't) but that was nothing compared to what we watched next...Ultimate Cake Off.
My channel flicking stopped when I saw the word, "cake" on the screen. My fellow fatty and I settled in judging the wedding cakes as though we were experts (let's face it we sorta are). Much to our disappointment the cake with the gaudy plastic beads on it took the 10,000 bucks. Then my friend pointed out two things:
1. "What do they do with the leftover cake?"
2. "There's another one (cake contest) coming on next."
We settled in with our food wrappers and sodas. Little did we know what we had gotten ourselves into as the best Ultimate Cake Off ever recorded came on next--Legoland theme. We made our guesses of who would win, gave a running commentary, and gripped the couch cushions when the cakes started to tilt. We were so into it that when my friend told me to, "Shut up" I did without protest. She was right, this was too serious a matter to talk through. In the end the clean cut cake won and we were ultimately happy for the winner but more happy that none of the cakes fell over. But, the question remains, "What do they do with the leftover cake?"
Favorite Facebook status update of the Day: "Why is Prince Harry falling off his horse newsworthy?" Duh, because he's a prince and you know that horse is definitely going to be sued or at the very minimum beheaded. And, was the prince drunk on the horse? Was he nude? Was he on a saddle or bare back? I am interested in these topics I think it's way more newsworthy than who was best dressed at the Grammy's (but, not more newsworthy than who was worst dressed).
Tip of the Day: Candles that are supposed to be scented like "Clean Laundry" don't smell like clean laundry, they smell more like chemical spills.
-Canadian Castaway
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