Day 226
Today was mostly spent by me lamenting my own popularity. How fucked is it that I was actually whining because people wanted to hang out with me? Apparently, when you tell people on facebook that you are going to go to the coffeeshop they will join you. Betches. I am self-imposing an Emily Seclusion starting tomorrow. Shit, I have to go to a birthday party, damn this popularity.
After the coffeeshop fiasco me and the friends who joined me decided to fit in a little shopping before the improv show we were going to. Gee, there is nothing more fun than someone trying to include the fat girl in clothes shopping by holding up a dress that would not even fit over my head and saying, "You should totally try this on, it would be soooooo cute on you!" Then you will say, "That's way to small for me." Then for some unknown reason they will insist, "No, really it will!"
I am starting to wonder what came first the group of writers or the group of writers getting drunk together. Seriously, can we all sit at a table, besides in class, without it being littered with beer/mojito pitchers? Would we have run out of things to say to each other had we not started this whole drinking thing? A lot of times I get bored with us when we are wasted, I can't imagine us sobering up. What would we do if we weren't passing a flask under a table? This does not sound like the road to happiness or lasting friendship. But, at least we won't have to take the impending sadness and fleeting friendships while we are sober.
Tonight as I deleted my "Recent Activity" section on Facebook I wondered if everyone looks deletes their "Recent Activity" list when it gets long. Who wants to look like they spend all of their time commenting on other people's walls and photos or declaring that you just played fucking Farkle. Seriously, they should rename it, "Recent Evidence That You Are Wasting Your Life."
The best part of my day was having a Filet 'O Fish value meal with my fellow fatty. The meal was okay, but the game we played was the best. This was the game where you rate every male that you can see. 10 being: hot as hell 5 being: Eh, I'd fuck him, 3 being: I'd kiss him, and 0 being: John McCain. A few weeks ago my friend wrote an essay about abusive and harassing men she and her friends have encountered. The portion of the essay that the author relayed about her own life involved a bunch of guys playing this exact same game. I didn't tell her I was also a sexual harasser.
Anyway, we actually saw a 10. No shit, a gorgeous basketball player-type. We saw many 2-4s after that. Finally I looked around the crowded McDonald's and declared, "There is a whole lot of ugly in here." Standing directly in my sight line was a Canadian boy wearing a "Canadian Tuxedo" since I have moved here I had thought that Canadians actually wearing "Canadian Tuxedos" were a myth. This particular boy had shoulder-length brown hair and was carrying a Holy Bible and was trying to tell his friend, "You should be a Protestant, really, I will take you to my church." He was a 0, but I if there was a I Want to Follow You Around For a Day scale he would've been a 10.
Tip of the Day: As my friend said tonight when I offered to split a McFlurry with her, "If you are only eating half of it you are punishing yourself." I can't remember exactly what this means, but I do know that if you take the McFlurry cup that had the bottom half of the McFlurry in it, you will not get nearly as much Oreo chunks.
-Canadian Castaway
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