Day 269
So once again it is nearly 3 am. But today was a different story...
This morning I did little piddly things around my room like doing most of the dishes and purchasing Modern Family Season 1 on I-tunes and thinking that RAM was all the memory on my computer and it only said 4 GB and Modern Family was more than that. I had a frentic facebook chat with my friend who explained to me what RAM and C: meant. Anyway, when my mother called she asked what had I been up to and it wasn't until that point that I realized all the trivial little shit I had been doing was essentially nothing. And they say mothers are supposed to make you less stressed out.
I went to a coffeeshop and started being freakishly productive, it was like for the first time in a year I didn't have ADD. I had The Black Keys blasting in my headphones and I was writing letters and reading other peoples 20 page stories. But, in the background a gaggle of 18 year olds were hanging out and laughing. Now, I always sorta made fun of my grandmother when she would wince at loud noises like they were painful and, it wasn't until today that I understood the wince behind loud noises. The teens laughter would get so loud it would blast through my Black Keys and pierce my eardrums. I must be getting to be a softie, because it really didn't bother me. I actually thought, "Eh, they are having a good time, how can I be mad at that?" Maybe I am just becoming Canadian or my grandma.
For over a week now my bodyguard who is now back in India has been telling me daily on gmail chat that I need to get out of the house. At first I thought this was because he was concerned about my well being but now I am starting to think that it was because he wanted me to shut the hell up on the chat already. So tonight me and a few other writers were all sitting around on facebook and decided that instead of drinking at home alone we could all meet at a location and drink. Apparently, this is what writing programs are like. Personally, I need to get on the wagon...just as soon as the booze in the fridge runs out.
Here are the highlights from the party:
I got into a fight with someone (a Canadian) about the book/blog Stuff White People Like. Apparently, so she'd heard, there is going to be one about black people coming out soon. Anyway, she thinks that Stuff White People like is horribly offensive. When people tried to tell her that it was a satire on racial stereotypes she said that is was "too simple" and that the "intention" of the book was to be funny (duh) and that some people who read it probably believe that all white people like Whole Foods. She asked who would buy the book and I said, "I did!" So I was right, Canadians don't get American humor, specifically, satirical explorations or maybe she is just a little off from all her trips to Whole Foods this week.
My mother called at one point--okay, she called when I was going to bite my friend Ben's shoulder. She got on the phone with him and told him to bite me back. She also told me to have a drink for her. I had several.
Due to me being a drunken lummox I broke one of the hosts ceramic chopsticks. Okay, so I didn't even realize it was broken until he said, "Can I talk with you in the kitchen?" I pounced in there thinking that I was special and we would chat about something fun like cake. What really happened was that he gave me a lecture entitled, "You need to be more careful with other peoples things." I felt really bad about the chopstick but he probably couldn't tell due to my face being all witchy from his lecture.
And that about wraps up what happened at the party. When I got home though I could still smell the new Lysol cleaner in the air. I had purchased the cleaner earlier in the day after a conversation with my mother (yeah, I talk to her all the effing time)about the mold smell I've had in my bathroom for months. I told her that I was going to move out. She asked me if I have really scrubbed my shower. "No," I said. Who knew that cleaning your shower could get rid of the mold smell? Duh, it is amazing that I can dress myself. I went home and scrubbed and as of now there is no mold smell, only the wonderful smell of Lysol. I wonder what is more harmful? Maybe the Lysol is addicting. What if the mold smell was still there but Lysol smells stronger and doesn't really clean anything, just makes it smell better. Shit.
Why I am Psychic Reason #32:
On the way over to the party (it became a party because I invited tons of people, tee hee hee) I rode the bus past a Starbucks a friend of mine hangs out at. I had this incredible urge to look for him. I glanced over, but something inside me told me to look again, and wouldn't you know it a different friend of mine was sitting in the window facing me. We shared a wave and some funny hand gestures and the bus pulled away. This could mean I am psychic. It could also mean I am living in a tiny incestuous community. But, I still didn't see the friend I was actually looking for so if I make predictins they could be way off.
Sidenote: Pretty sure that my bodyguard just saw me come online and immediately went offline. Geez, I need to get better friends. Well, I am off to put up an ad on craigslist. "Looking for friends that want to chat with me on gmail and don't hate me." Goodnight, Moon.
Tip of the Day: When you ride the bus always stand next to the only other American on the bus and bitch like crazy about Canada.
-Canadian Castaway
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