Day 218
At breakfast this morning I was eating shitty cottage cheese alongside a close friend. I asked him, "What's new?" He said, "I don't know how to say this, so I am just gonna say it: my girlfriend missed her period." Immediately, I started to give him advice, and felt a wave of anxiety. He talked about their studies and the time in their lives right now. I told him that they have a wonderful relationship no matter what happens. I told him to wait it out a few days. I told him everything was going to be okay. I reassured him that a pregnancy test would be a good idea. Only now do I realize that all of my advice was sort of conflicting and didn't really make sense. I need to prepare a speech for this sort of thing. Then I tried to change the subject to the fact that it is April Fool's Day, to lighten the mood. I started to tell him the story of my greatest April Fool's Day prank of all time, which was the complete wrong thing to say, as the best prank I ever pulled was convincing my mother that my brother had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. Did I mention my mother is a heart patient? During the re-telling I figured it may not be the best time for this anecdote. I said, "It was really stupid, just an April Fool's Day prank. He said, "Yeah, kind of like the one I am pulling on you now."
The worst part of the whole debacle was that another friend of ours joined us and he started to pull it on her. Immediately and genuinely she said, "That's great news!" She went on and on about how wonderful it is that they may be having a child. She hugged him and said, "It's going to be wonderful, don't you worry." He told her that she was an April Fool. She laughed and laughed and punched his arm. I had to admit it was quite funny seeing it pulled on someone else. But, the real killer is that she said everything perfectly. Why didn't I think of the positive babies-are-awesome approach? Damnit.
After my morning prank I went to interview for a job. A job at the nearest post office branch. When I got there I sat on the footstool in the back office that was stacked floor to ceiling with mail that was clearly not going places (possibly where packages of mine came to rest forever lost). Across from me sat a woman who made it known, many times, that she had worked for the post office for ten years. The interview started out with her talking about herself, and ended with her talking about herself. But the thing was, was that it didn't seem boring to me. It seemed more like she had waited 10 years to find someone who would sit in the back office and listen to her troubles for 20 minutes. I felt important, welcome, and wanted. I was her salvation. I wanted to take this low-paying job just to help her out, not just because I secretly want to spend all day mailing packages and letters for people all day, imagining what they envelopes and boxes contain. I have found my purpose, and that is to save the post office lady and listen to her talk, it just sucks that it's not more than 9 bucks an hour to do it.
I went in to get my first ever Canadian haircut today. The lady who was to cut my hair had just quit smoking, was my exact age, and said, "You'd look sexy with some bangs." I looked wonderful and I told her about how chewing mandarin orange-flavored gum helped me quit smoking. I bought a ridiculously expensive bottle of hair thickening spray (as if a liquid could make my hair thicker). I went out on the town afterward and everyone loved my hair. Then, I took a shower a couple hours ago, and my hair didn't look so nice anymore. As usual, if my hair looks pretty after a salon trip, I cannot recreate its prettiness, and it will always be ugly when I am left to style it on my own. Now, I am wondering if I got it cut in an ugly fashion, would it then become prettier when I try to do it myself?
In celebration of landing the post office gig, a new haircut, and because my friend desperately needed birth control that I was in possession of, I went out to the local diner. The local diner is run and owned by it's namesake who is a fantastic little old lady. When I met her I acted as though she was a celebrity. I fawned over her, and nearly attacked her with joy. She took it in all gracefully before retreating to the kitchen. I have never seen her since. But today, I found a little old lady who is much, much better. She walked in the door, tiny and hunched and everyone who worked at the cafe greeted her. Someone brought her a glass of wine and she said, "Ahh, my medicine," before she started to scrawl "Palm Readings" on a paper placemat with a green crayon she pulled out of a wooden box. I was too in awe to talk to her, but she turned to my friend as we were paying our bill and said to her, "Next time you come in stop by, I read palms." I have never been so jealous in my entire life. Why wasn't it me she talked to? I have a palm.
This afternoon I went to the clinic to have this thing on my arm looked at. I am not sure exactly what it is, but after looking at pictures of spider bites for over an hour online I was quite sure whatever it was could kill me and blow up into a million, puss-filled blisters of doom and my arm would surely be amputated--other than that I was cool with it. Anyhow, I get to the clinic and need to pee. After this little Asian man showed me where the bathroom was, and I stole like 9 condoms, and went back to the waiting room, I was called by the same little Asian man to come back into the examination room, turns out he's a doctor. After looking at my arm, and being afraid to touch the area he said it was probably just a little infection. I tried from my arsenal of jokes to relate to him about freaking out about spider bites. He didn't think any of it was funny and he looked at me like he knew that I had stolen more than my share of condoms. I said, "You know, I just wanted to get it checked out, it kinda hurts." Then he shot me a look and said in the most condescending of tones, "It's a skin infection, of course it's going to hurt." I wonder what he would've done if I would've called him a meanie and stuck out my tongue. Or, what the hell would he have done if I would've snake-bit his arm and when he cried out in pain I said, "It's a snake bite, it's supposed to hurt."
This evening I was forced to go to a Japanese restaurant. I have nothing against Japanese people, but when you food looks more like artwork than food and is so compact that eating just a couple little appetizer-ish rolls makes you unbearably full I am going to stay far, far away. Seriously, if I am going to be that full I want to have eaten an entire plate of food that doesn't look like toys. Anyway, I had to go to the restaurant to meet up with the editorial board of my department's magazine. Apparently, I have agreed to become a part of this editorial board, but who cares it was a chance to show off my pretty hair before I killed it.
My friends and I started talking, and everything was fine. My bodyguard was there, but I easily avoided talking or even looking at him the entire time. Did I mention I am horribly mad at him? Yeah, pretty much found out yesterday that I think he is a good friend to me, and he thinks other people are good friends to him, other people meaning, not me. Anyway, I left early, leaving the group that was heading out for an after party, which meant: ice cream. On the way home I called up my mother and as I was talking and walking wouldn't you know it my fucking bodyguard showed up. I kept on the phone, thinking it was a great excuse to not have to talk to him, and it was, until my mother hung up on me. Then my bodyguard came near me and told me that he liked my hair. I was like, "Thanks." I asked him, "Why didn't you go with the others?" "I am kind of broke," he said. Then he added, "but, if they were going for drinks I'd go, even though I have no money." I walked on in silence. Was I supposed to be proud of him for being an alcoholic? Idiot. Then, as we approached my building, he stopped, and hugged me for like 15 seconds too long. I made a little grunting sound that sounded like pleasure, not repulsion. I need to work on my hug noises. "Sleep well," he said. I didn't respond because I was thinking: how do you tell someone that your hug noise needs to be reversed?
Tip of the Day: If the most exciting thing in your life is going to Wal-Mart--well, at least you have a most exciting thing.
-Canadian Castaway
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