Day 232
Alright, so it's 2 am and I am already feeling hungover. This is the part that I would like to sleep through. So, I will be brief. Here's an overview:
Morning (translation: after 10:30 am):
I pretty much wasted the morning chatting online with a friend about which courses she was taking next year. I suppose I should've been sad as these will be probably the last courses I will ever take. But, I wasn't.
After the chat session and after I listened to my dad tell me that he is going to buy a soccer mom van, I went to work at the post office. I learned a few valuable lessons about surviving the post office as a workplace. Here is my survival guide thus far:
Show up a few minutes late. No one will notice, and every little bit of avoiding work helps.
Go to the bathroom during your shift. Make sure to go to a bathroom on a different floor of the building and take your time. When you come back make a jibe about how long the line always is when you go to the toilet.
Eat, alot. You won't actually be able to avoid working while you eat, but your search for food will get you out of helping customers for awhile. Once again, complain about the lines. If you are super smart share your food. Your co-workers will love you for it, and won't mind so much if you pretend that you cannot help someone due to your mouth being full.
Volunteer to wash the floor. Not only will you not have to assist customers, you will be able to use the super cool Swiffer Wet Jet mop. I don't know what can be more fun than pushing a button and having a machine squirt out cleaning product.
Joke around with your co-workers, this will both make you popular and less bored.
Volunteer to read the booklet on money laundering. It may be repetitive and boring, except for the part where they say that drug dealers spend their money on "jewellery, boats, and expensive real estate," but at least you can sit down and avoid telling lies to people that ask you how long it will take for a package to get to Finland. Seriously? Who can say?
And most importantly: Let your boss go on and on about her hair salon. Let her tell you the history of how she cuts her hair and how the place she goes to is filled with Japanese girls learning to cut hair, and once you finally find stylist you like she will go back to Japan forever.
Evening:
This evening I had to attend a reading. Apparently, when you are a Creative Writing MFA student you must go to these sort of events. This particular one took place in a bookstore where the owner sells cans of hard cider and beer without a license. Other than that it is pretty much an adult version of story hour. The only differences being that you don't have to sit on the floor, there are no pictures, no snack, and you usually have to listen to terrible poetry. Here's a few highlights from the reading:
I accidentally hit on one of the guys selling beer. My pick-up line: "I really like your glasses, they look like Sally Jessy Raphael's."
There was a pirate theme, so one of the hosts threw out gold coins. And, when you looked at them up close you realized that they were foil-wrapped chocolates and when you looked even closer at them you realized that they were loony-inspired golden chocolate coins.
Not only did the dippy grad secretary show up, she wore a full pirate outfit and came in shooting up the place with a plastic antique-looking revolver.
Since the reading takes place in the storefront of a bookstore next to a bar, people walk by on the street and look into the windows. One of these people was a drunk Asian kid who danced in front of the window and lingered, winking at me and all of the other females.
Night:
After all the excitement from the reading my fellow writers and I headed to a Foreign Legion bar. These bars are much the same as the American Legion bars I go to back home except here you actually have to sign in when you walk in the door. I signed in as "Barbara Boiles."
Highlights:
While we were all drinking I got a lecture on how judging a person's character based on their zodiac sign is being prejudiced. Apparently, calling Capricorns pussies is akin to hating all white people.
I was ethnically profiled by two writers in my program. The first instance being that one of the other writers had a spliff in his pocket and, according to my bodyguard, only the Americans joined him in smoking it. Not true. I refrained. The second instance was when I met someone I hadn't met before and we laughed and joked around until he found out I was an American. Then he refused to be nice and banter with me. I bet he's a Taurus. (tee hee hee)
So, I went to pay for my drink and realized I was missing one of my loonies. But, me saying, "I can't find enough money" only caused one of my profs to purchase my drink, which made me look like a total loser.
But, when we were all waiting for the bus my friend mooned me and for a second I forgot about being a total loser. Apparently, in my mind, being moon-able is being not loser-y. Weird.
Tip of the Day: Do not drink a ton of hard cider and beer and then come home to eat tons of salami, it is not that good.
-Canadian Castaway
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