Day 246
In the book that Diablo Cody wrote about stripping she said that one of her gigs was to work "The Dollhouse" which was basically a room in a sex shop where people would pass by and pick out women to bring into separate rooms for dances with themes of their choice. When I open the blinds to my bedroom I feel like I am that woman in The Dollhouse behind the window that doesn't get anyone tapping on the glass for more. That's okay, I can't afford the costumes and the toys for it anyhow.
This morning I woke up from a dream about being felt up by my bodyguard, only to shut off the alarm and go back to sleep, not to rise again until noon. As I was waking up and trying to start my day, the buzzer for my doorphone rang. My friend wanted to come and eat her yogurt in my room and then we had an Oprah moment when she saw me without makeup for the first time. Her response, "You look better than I do without makeup." My response, "What are you some kind of monster or something?" Later, after she finished rinsing out her yogurt container she held it up and said, "Hey, look at this! You know what this is?" I mumbled a response, something to the effect of, "that's more trash you are gonna leave in my room." She beamed and said, "Sandcastle!"
This afternoon I was in one of my favorite neighborhoods waiting for my co-teacher to pick me up. When I arrived at the location we were meeting at I ran into the hottest boy in the Creative Writing program who just so happened to be wearing his hottest jacket--think somewhere between Johnnny Depp and Heath Ledger. I am not gonna lie, I pretended like he was my boyfriend for a moment. Later, after my friend picked me up, she said that when she was approaching our table she wondered who the hot guy I was talking to was, until she saw it was our friend.
Later on a crowded bus, I was standing within the arms of many cute men who were holding the pole I was next to and wanted to lean back into their arms like an idiot. When a seat finally opened up, I sat down and was joined by a wonderful giant of a man (I have a thing for giants) who was eating an apple. I listened to him crunch on his apple and realized that it sounded just like every cartoon dinosaur that had ever eaten leaves on a screen before, and then he turned into some sort of brontosaurus and became even hotter. Geez, I'm in heat.
Once again I went to a high school this afternoon to "teach" high schoolers how to write. Translation: Bullshitting with them about books, making fun of their English teacher for not knowing what manga is, writing a story, and giving them suckers to make me even more popular. Yeah, I'm not above baiting them to make me seem cool. The best part was the creation of the story. The kids wanted to play a writing game, so I suggested that we each write a sentence and pass it on. They modified that we would not peek at the previous sentences and at the end we'd unfold the papers and read what we'd gotten. When we read all the stories we'd created I realized that the most effed up sentences came from the English teacher himself and that I was the only one vicious enough to write a sentence about anyone in the group. I wrote, "(my co-teacher's name) is a doo doo head!" Why am I surprised that in a room of teenagers I'm still the youngest?
After supper I was invited by some South Africans to play some cricket. Being an American I grew up with a baseball bat in my hand. I had never even seen a cricket bat until this evening. Somehow, not knowing how to play meant that I needed to be a wicketkeeper. To me this meant, throw the ball if it comes at me and make remarks about how, "wicketkeeper" sounds like something out of Harry Potter. Apparently, this was wrong, as I was moved out into the field after just a few minutes. Being in the field was awesome, it was all heckling and little effort, two things I have tried to master in my 26 years. We played for quite sometime and without fully understanding the game still, I went up to be a "bowler" which just means, dopey version of a pitcher. It was then that I found my true calling in life: to pitch for a cricket team.
This evening I responded to an email that someone sent out to the list of residents in my rez hall that said she was trying to sell a bike. Little did I know that this would involve holding a rusted-out bike frame for a half an hour while she fiddled with the chain that will never be able to go back on with freakish fingernails, some were long and some were short, but all were yellow. Finally, I told her I had to leave, luckily I didn't say, "I have to leave because watching you try to put that chain on is like watching a six-year old repeatedly chicken out at getting their ears pierced."
Status of Hank (the plant I won at drag queen bingo): So, I was pretty concerned that the drag queens killed my new plant Hank. I was so concerned that I had a plant expert come in to take a gander. Turns out, Hank is doing really well, his flowers are dying because it was their time to die and he will flower again someday. I hope he's a metaphor.
Tip of the Day: Just because you made your first two pitchers of Iced Tea for this summer, doesn't mean you have to drink them both in one day.
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment