Day 195
I learned something at the breakfast table today. I learned that if you say you don't have any friends in a group of people at least one of them will volunteer to be your friend. But, it'll probably be the guy who talks over you and gives lectures about Jesus at the dinner table. But, if you turn your life over to Jesus and never say anything when your new friend is talking you will have a friend for life. But, I'd rather make friends on World of Warcraft.
My dad is a hick. This used to be troublesome and cause fights, now I find his bombastic ignorance endearing and wonderful. This mornings exhibit via our telephone conversation went like this:
"So, what's your friend got his bachelor's degree in?"
"I think, Philosophy and French, Dad."
"French?!"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell kind of degree is French? What's he gonna do with that two-bit degree? Become a part of the French Foreign Legion? A degree in French, ha!"
Note: He said nothing of the Philosophy degree.
Today I went to what is called a "brown bag" meeting. I had no idea what it was all about. Later, I spent over half an hour with a girl I had just met typing up the mission statement, position descriptions, and budget for a new student advocacy group where I may become the lead chair person. All of that happened and yet, I didn't even get a brown bag lunch. I would rather have taken whatever was in a brown bag over typing up positions and figuring out salaries.
There were two amazing things that happened in class today. 1. I ate soy nuts. They are fucking awful, but I am addicted. Well, mostly addicted to the way I bitch about them while choking them down. But today was special, my professor also ate the soy nuts, just like we were all kids at the lunch table. He said, "I think they are pretty good." 2. My friend, let's call him Hank, told me that he was allergic to soy nuts. So I said, "Does this mean we can't make out." He said, "Not until you brush your teeth." I asked, "What day is it?" "Ahh, Tuesday. Why?" "Because I only brush my teeth on Thursdays." "Then we could make out all weekend," he said. I chuckled. Then he said, "I've been practicing." That was when things got weird. He started working his mouth in circles, vigorously and sticking out and pulling in his tongue. I don't think I want to make out with him, but I can see how his mouth lessons could come in handy elsewhere and I could still eat soy nuts and not have to brush my teeth.
Today I went to a German going away party at a German restaurant. Here's a few things that happened:
1. I discovered that schnitzel is amazing and makes me regret ever having been a vegetarian. When I decided to become a vegetarian I knew I probably wouldn't be one forever. I never imagined that I would spend so much time after coming out of it hating myself for all of the meat I didn't eat. I can't think of many things that are better than a huge slab of breaded pork at least my religion permits the eating of it, or I'd have to renounce my religion to eat delicious little pigs. Plus, I would feel guilty for not having been a vegetariang plus, I would feel guilty for a life time spent without the joys of pork.
2. I asked the guy I like if he thinks there is a specific age when men start tucking in their shirts and we spent the next 1/2 hour looking at strange men's waistlines. Conclusion: Old men tuck in their shirt, always. Younger men tuck in their shirts, if they are nerds, always. Guy I like is cute, always.
3. Old people playing games never, ever want me to join in the fun. Seriously, how do I prove myself to them? Do I really have to learn how to play some odd Swiss game or Whist? I am willing to learn. Wouldn't it be fun to teach a young person a new game? Can they sense my unnatural addiction to all things old person?
4. I learned that running around in circles around a tall Norwegian man is tons of fun while waiting for the bus.
5. I learned that no matter how long you wait after eating a giant plate of schnitzel, getting a McFlurry afterwards will make you feel like a fat ass. Try not to talk about how much creamier the ice cream is, because no matter how delicious it is you are still killing yourself and it won't make you feel better. It's just like people talking about the quality of their cigarettes or scotch, you can't really put a classification on taste other than, "It tastes like slow, delicious (or horrid) death." But, when you see ice cream on your pants, turn to your friend and say, "I put my hand in my lap and there was a puddle there," you realize it's all worth it.
5. On the walk home embrace the fact that you have a little extra love areas by teaching your English as a Third Language friend the word gunt. In case you should be unaware of the term gunt it means the area on some bigger ladies that is a gut a top a cunt (gut+cunt=gunt). You know, the area where your McFlurries go to die.
Tip of the Day: Never question the mushroom sauce.
-Canadian Castaway
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