Day 252
Today was one of those days when you woke up, it was beautiful outside, but you were being punished and then you realized that you weren't actually being punished, you were just assuming the role of adult. This role sucks. I always forget I am a grown up, until I realize that I have to manage and obtain money and worry about money and do all sorts of things like vacuum and wash clothes and take out trash. My parents treated me and my brother like little slave robots when it came to making chore lists. We treated chore lists like they didn't exist and associated them with grown up tendencies. The only good part about being a grown up is that sometimes you can go to breakfast and have a conversation about who was the hottest Backstreet Boy and how awesome it was to play Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis was (well, was until your brother learned all the codes and killed you all the time). But, there is no getting out of chore lists when you are a grown up.
When I worked at the place that shall not be mentioned today (the post office) three things of interest occurred:
1. A guy came in with a giant, ripped plastic bag of random things to send to Brazil. I told him he'd better get a box to put them in, when he returned twenty minutes later, we weighed his package. As he was filling out the forms and paying $124 he said, "It's just a bunch of stuff that some girl left at my house."
2. The post office I work in is located in a Student Union Building that is full of food places and some offices. This morning my supervisor got an email from the food services group in the building requesting that every department send a person to the loading dock to learn how to bale cardboard. I was that lucky person. While I was down there (this was my first time near this area,we never go down there) I saw tons of beer kegs and an old woman smoking on the dock, she chose to sit on milkcrates and not any of the 13 chairs that were scattered out there. The man that lead the demonstration was called, "Jock." I gotta admit watching him operate a cardboard baler and watching the old lady smoke was way more fun than lying to customers about when their packages will get to China.
3. There was a cute blonde man with gorgeous hands sending off a package and when I looked to check the postal code I realized that it was going to my home state. I was so excited I held up his package (dirty) and showed it to my co-workers declaring that it was going to my home state. I was smiling like a fool. Finally, I turned to the blonde guy and said, "Thank you, that's the best thing that has happened to me all day!" There was a pause. I looked back at him and said, "Shit, I need to get a life. Huh? That's so sad." He didn't disagree.
I think I am finally starting to feel homesick. Here are a few things that I miss today about home:
-Driving a car. Seriously, there is nothing better than driving down a shit road, blaring Skid Row and smoking. God, now I miss smoking. Shit.
-Eating my mothers food. Kate Moss once said, "Nothing tastes as good as thin." I say, Nothing tastes as good as free--besides, Austrian chocolate."
-Making out with boys on pool tables--wait, I could do that here. Hmm...
-Being a karaoke star. Okay, so when you get a gaggle of geriatrics to form a kick line you are a star. Come on.
-Drinking iced tea in cafes. Seriously, in this part of Canada you cannot go into a coffeeshop and order an iced tea. You can, but they will make it hot and then ice it, as though it will be cold. When you explain to them that you like tea that was brewed, sat out all night, and was put in the fridge for the day they will look at you like you just superglued your tongue to the tip jar.
-Not having the responsibility of making yourself into something because you left home to do that. It's so much easier watching Roseanne and some Freaks and Geeks, just doing nothing.
-I miss my friend who says that she cannot be around me if I am hungry and have my period at the same time.
-I miss listening to my dad call people shitheads and assholes and me a fucking idiot.
-I miss being a celebrity at my grandmother's home. These wonderful old people think I am really special, and I'll never understand why. But, there is nothing like eating cookies with people who think you are really special.
-I even kind of miss the creepy guy who had a crush on me and how hilarious he looked when he tried to look sexy. I wish I could say I miss feeling guilty and assholey when I say that about him and mean it, but I still mean it.
-I miss going to Walgreens and buying things like silly string and cheap water pistols. There is no cheap drugstore toy section around here. People have to spend all their money on rent around here.
-I miss ordering Greek omelettes that aren't on the menu.
-I miss the fact that when it is nice out (and that is rare) you can sit outside and it is a super big deal. It's hard to really enjoy nice weather when you get it too much. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but I don't care)
-And, most of all, I miss paying the U.S. price on necklaces at Claire's. (tee hee hee)
But, all is much better when you talk to your friend and she tells you that not only does she own a Snuggie, she owns one that someone embroidered, "douchebag" on. Well, all is much better until you realize that your friend has had this magical Snuggie since Christmas and hasn't posted a facebook pic of herself in it. And it gets even worse when you realize that you are super effing jealous of her Douchebag Snuggie. But, it gets better when you realize that are actually super glad that you are the type of person who would be jealous of someone in a douchebag Snuggie.
So, when I got to grad school I thought I was going to continue writing fiction and film scripts. Now I am writing memoir and tv scripts. This should make me super happy, you know like, "Yay! I have finally figured out what the hell I am supposed to do with myself. Let's drink!" What really happened though, is that I find myself so frigging boring I have nothing to write about for memoir. I've found the solution to that being, make a few super effing boring friends. But, little did I know that writing tv would ruin watching tv. Yeah. I am an American girl who grew up spending her summers watching television and eating microwave french fries. I have always enjoyed my time with my exciting tv character friends. That is, until, I have to start thinking about how one comes up with an intricate story for an ensemble cast while watching some finished product of this fill my screen. Solving this one is not so easy as making a few boring friends, what I need is for every awesome episode I watch I want to see successive drafts of the script and time logs of how long it took the writers to get it perfect. I just haven't figured out how to get copies of these things.
Tip of the Day: I wonder if you can go up to the bubble tea joint and ask for a cup of pearls?
-Canadian Castaway
No comments:
Post a Comment