Day 215
Today was the day of two workshops. It all began with mushy tater tots and three pieces of bacon. I went to class fully expecting a beating. During a class where you are workshopped, your peers that have read the piece you wrote and make comments aloud on it and there is a discussion that you aren't supposed to be a part of. This is why I came to Canada, to get harassed. Smart, eh? (note the Canadian inflection) I guess this is called learning.
The first workshop went well, for me, but a classmate of mine got nitpicked about the style of his piece. Me and another student stood up for him. This resulted in a fight about each other not getting the story and that it doesn't have to be logical and blah. That ended with an odd girl in class making a funny joke about indenting paragraphs (yeah, we laugh at shit like that). Although the war ended without blood shed, I still wonder if my friend and I could've taken on the loud mouth girl and the entire rest of the class including our sexy substitute prof. Maybe, he'd join our side. Instead of actually fighting each other though I just pushed the button my dinosaur pen to make it roar. Nobody understood this to be a war cry so class was dismissed and we got sandwiches.
The second workshop of the day was for TV class. I was all drama, though I am writing a comedy. (lame joke) Anyway, the teacher asked the same questions as she asked me last draft, "What is out of balance for these characters? What is this series about?" I answered her questions and she made a "not good enough" sound. And then, I lost it. I said, "You said that last time, and I worked really hard on this rewrite. I spent many, many hours figuring this shit out. And, I still don't get it. What the fuck do I need to do, huh? I am willing to do it. I am going to keep writing this show until I get it right or until I die." Okay, so I didn't notice that was dramatic until the entire class refused to comment on my script, at all.
Here is an inventory of shit one should do when they are overcome with PMS and feeling sorry for themselves:
-nearly cry at dinner, twice.
-watch "Charlie bit me" and "Numa Numa" videos over and over, laugh hysterically
-put a pathetic poor-me update on Facebook
-Watch all (3) episodes of "My Life As Liz" even though it kinda sucks and makes you feel like a less cool loser than the "loser" girl on the show.
-listen to the Geto Boys, "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta"
-try to convince people via chat that you are a ninja.
-drink one glass of wine and 5 glasses of chai tea.
-watch the first episode of Carnivale and wonder who that fucking preacher is and how that woman got so many coins in her mouth.
-think about the boy you can't have waaaaaaaaaaaay to much, so much that you hate yourself for it, but you can't hate him no matter how hard you try, and thus, you hate yourself a little more.
-talk to your friend on skype. Well, listen to him bitch about how he is echoing and say that he will hang out with you except you have to pay him.
-make plans to go to Wal-mart to buy mustache combs, silly string, super soakers, Preparation H, diapers, and Nascar t-shirts for the hell of it.
-make plans to watch Pippi Longstocking and do whiskey shots.
-remember that the last time you watched Pippi Longstocking you got high.
-put a picture of Aragorn as your desktop background.
And finally,
-blog about all of the shit you did and pretend like it was all a joke and know it wasn't.
So, my friend made a video for my bodyguard, a five second deal with her saying something that he says a lot. He told me on chat that he thought it was "adorable." Then, I read what he commented on the actual video. He said, "Hahaha that is also possibly the most adorable thing you've ever done." And, it made me want to puke and delete him from my contacts on chat and unfriend him. I imagine them going out and him using me to pursue her. Sounds a little like a PMS freakout, huh? Well, he did once tell her all about this dream where they were making love and in it he like took off her boots with his mouth or some such bullshit. Just a dream, right? Well, in 3rd grade I made up a dream about kissing a boy named Ethan, and then I told it to him so that he may think about it, and thus kiss me. Which, he did, seven times. But, it wasn't until after I convinced my friend to help me organize a game of spin the bottle that this occurred. I don't want to be the friend who gets roped into organizing a game of spin the bottle.
Tip of the Day: Taking up LARPing is an option in trying to find a prince charming, but you may have to take a foam axe to the face to get there.
-Canadian Castaway
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