Today I bought a mom-erator. A mom-eartor is five dollar, 1970s-looking vibrator. What can I say? I like history? I'll buy anything for 5 bucks? While we were buying cheap vibrators at the campus Health and Wellness Center I also picked up a couple condoms, one was a nicely-wrapped Trojan. This I gave to my awkward friend Bill at school. He took it from me and said, "Thanks Emily, when I use it I will think of you." I have never read anywhere how to respond to something like that. So I said, "Thank you." And we smiled at each other, and it wasn't too weird.
A second year student, an undergrad who asks tons of questions, and myself busted into the writing faculty meeting to propose that we have a student association, and that they should give us money to have the association. The scattered faculty looked like 14 year olds being having to follow along in a textbook when they'd rather be carving their initials into a desktop. I wonder what other faculty meetings are like? Does the chair of the department wear a gray hoodie when say the Chemistry faculty meets? We were invited to come and sit in at any time. One instructor noted that students from the past used to come by quite often. I asked why that stopped, and one of the glassy-eyed teachers piped up, "Because they are boring as hell."
Today will go down as the day that I became a full-blown Anti-Canadian racist. I don't care how educated you are as a Canadian, there are just some things you will NEVER understand about American culture. For example, when a Non-Fiction American student writes a satirical essay in which he assumes the position of old Republican/young-people-suck it's funny as hell because it is a clear impression of every male member over 30 in my (and many other people's) extended family who hates young people and that they know best. The Canadians on the other hand thought that he was being ohh, so judgemental. Certainly, all older people don't think like that. Duh. One of them went so far as to say that there were certainly many Republican politicians who were kind and caring people. What the fuck do they teach these people? Old people wouldn't say sons of bitches (they say) or the phrase, "Fuck 'em" when it pertains to the younger generation the Canadians said. Really? Do I need to bring my dad to class? And, for the love of God do you not get satire? It's like parody, but only more effective. Jesus, get a goddamn clue, or a Lenny Bruce record. (okay, sure I seem upset, and I was, but it is ohh so fun to tell the know-it-all Canadians they don't know shit. Almost as much fun as it must be for old Republican men telling young liberals they don't know shit and they don't need universal healthcare.)
There is nothing like a frisbee to cure the angry blues of wanting to kill Canadian classmates. What's even better is a good laugh (what's even better is good sex, I hear). When my friends and I got in from playing frisbee in the courtyard of my building I received an email message with the subject, "Quieter." Here is what the first line said: "I know you are pissed off with me for some reason. I dont care why.. But if you aren't already, you should be by the end of this email."This email was from the same dicklicker who got upset over a picture on facebook a few months back. The picture contained both him and I. The "you are a nerd!" comments were directed at me. But, he didn't get it. He sent out an email claiming that he was the butt of cruel jokes. Ha! To be honest I was a little jealous that one didn't grace my inbox. But, today I was lucky, today it was directed at me. I am not sure what his deal is, I mean, just because I stopped saying "Hi" to him at supper he thinks I am pissed off. He must think I think a lot of him. Anyway, today's email was about the volume of my voice and how he had a headache and that I should think of other's before I have fun and be loud outside. I should write him back and thank him for making me laugh so hard. But, I think it would be more fun to have a conversation on my cellphone outside his door at 3 am. Ohh, and I unfriended him.
So, for many months I have had a horrible mould (Canadian spelling) smell coming from my bathroom. Tonight, I finally realized the solution to this problem: cleaning. I know, crazy, right? I started wiping things down, only to discover an enormous amount of brown sludge hidden under the shower door. Surely, this must be the source of the smell. I wonder if I should keep telling the office of my building that it smells like mould anyhow so they have someone come and clean the vents. God, it'd be nice to have some clean vents, and workmen.
Tip of the Day: Don't tell anyone when you find a baggie in the street.
-Canadian Castaway
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