Day 265
Sometimes it's hilarious how similar life here can be to life I had at home. I mean sure, I don't have a car here, the ocean is just steps away, the men are better looking here, and I can't raid my parents fridge, or run to Target here but, most of what I did today was exactly what I would've done back home: worked a job I don't care about and watched TV. Luckily, I can find these things entertaining. Here's an All-American/Canadian day in review:
The Work Part:
Honestly, I have been a little freaked that I am becoming one of those jaded Postal Workers that are cast in sitcoms as comedic relief. Turns out though, today wasn't so bad, even some of the customers were okay. Here are the winners of the day:
The cute guy with the nose ring who said that it was his first time mailing anything. Usually in this circumstance I would be mildly to moderately annoyed, but this guy let me say, "Gee, it's a big day for you." He laughed and nodded. "Here is your tracking number," I said, handing it over. He looked at it all wide-eyed. "Now, I know the excitement of your first mailing was a lot to handle for you, so take it home with you and maybe tomorrow--if you are ready--you can look up your package online." He laughed louder.
Another favorite, the tiny Japanese woman who kept asking me how long it would take for each service to get her package to Japan. The fastest time was 2 weeks and went up to 6 weeks depending on the type of service she would choose. After I repeated all the delivery times to her she pointed to the most expensive option on the computer screen I was showing her and said, "Cheapest! Cheapest! One week!"
The woman who was actually not pissed off about the amount of postage we quoted her for her package was amazing. I told her, "I am so glad you are happy about this, most people yell complain about the rates." She said, "Maybe you should just tell them, 'Yeah, you have two options: pay it or leave.'"
My absolute all-time favorite customer of the day was the lady whose phone rang while she was up at the counter. She jumped up and said, "It's me! That's my phone! Someone's calling ME! Can I take the call?" Again, usually I would be mildly to moderately annoyed, but her excitement made me AND everyone in the Post Office excited for her. After the phone call she hung up and looked at me and asked, "Is it incredibly obvious that I am single?" I laughed. "That was the library and I thought it was some mister calling me. Hahahaha." I rang through her express mail and gave her a tracking number. "Great, maybe I can track this on Friday night between 7pm and midnight."
The other wonderful part of the Post Office today was that my co-worker decided that she wanted to tell me her feelings about me through text. My phone is now full of exchanges like, "Hatred." "Annoyance." "Malevolence." "Disdain." She is my favorite co-worker.
The TV Part:
Let's just start with, Toddlers in Tiaras is a sickly addicting show. How can a two year old girl's ambition in life be to become Miss Universe? Other observations:
-A 6 year old fanning herself with a thousand bucks is a disturbing image but, not as disturbing as her bouncing up and down with a friend backstage singing about winning the money.
-"I'm going to do pageants until my back starts cramping and I get old," said the 7-year old 5000 dollar winner.
-The commercial after the show was my favorite though. There is nothing like wondering what the ShamWow guy's life is like. I wonder if he is truly proud to be the ShamWow guy. Nothing like hearing, "It's like a shammy and a towel!"
In other news, what the hell is with Christina Aguilera's new video? Copy Gaga much? It's shit like this that makes me wish I'd never had my friend steal me a TV. Oh well, if I ever turn off my TV set and go out into the real world at least I will have a conversation topic at the ready. A topic that will allow me to pick out all the Gaga-haters so I can start the process of unfriending them.
At supper this evening I thought I'd ask a few friends if they wanted to accompany me to the supermarket or go get a slushie. They all declined and actually looked annoyed that I had asked, everyone that is except the movie guy. You know, the guy who walks like a penguin, and brings over movies for everyone in my residence hall to watch. The same guy who throws hissy fits when things don't go his way. But, in my desperate, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-my-room mood I agreed to him coming with me. Hell, I could use a friend, I thought. He suggested we go to the 7-11 for Slurpees.
Now, there aren't really any 7-11s where I come from so I have never had an official, Slurpee. He brought me to the closest 7-11 and I watched as he poured Pepsi-flavored slushie, then Lime-flavored slushie, then Cream Soda-flavored slushie, then blue-flavored (whatever the hell blue is)slushie, and then bubble-gum flavored slushie, and finally orange-flavored slushie into a monster cup. My mix was just bubble gum, cream soda, and orange. I was so excited about my Slurpee that I told the clerk that it was my very first official 7-11 Slurpee. He seemed unimpressed. I then asked him if he drank them too. He said, "Yeah, sure." Translation: Fuck, off.
The Slurpee was fantastic. Okay, so I only drank half of it, but I am sure I have at least 6 new cavities owing to its awesomeness. The only unawesome part of the whole outing was when movie guy suggested, "I'll just come watch Glee in your room." But, he said it in the tone of every superficial guy in teen movies that doesn't end up with the girl. It was then that I told him that I do not want to share my TV with anyone. Who the hell says that? Okay, so it was really a euphenism (I just realized that now). He skulked away to his lab and I walked home, laughing at the fact that I don't want to share my TV with anyone and alternately, being sad that I don't really want to share my TV with anyone. Well, not anyone who wants to share it with me at the moment. I really need to meet people to share my TV with. (and, I really need to stop saying, 'share my TV with.')
As you can see my day kinda sucked. Seriously, if I have nothing better to report than the shitty pseudo-reality shows I see on TV tomorrow I will have to do something drastic. I will admit that my melancholy stems from lack of completed work on my thesis. And, of course, I will take out all of my anger on others for awhile and not realize it before I actually believe I can write something again. (Hey, I never claimed to not be a diva) Anyway, I recently read a yahoo.ca news topic that said that calling your mother will reduce your stress level by a ridiculous (probably unmeasurable) amount. My mother listened to all of my bitching and ranting, paused, and said, "You know, it's probably around your time of the month coming up."
Tip of the Day: Bob Dylan's son who was in the Wallflowers now has a solo career today with mopey backup singers and his voice sounds more like his Dad's everyday, plus he has gorgeous eyes. But, don't start a music career if your Dad was Bob Dylan, you'll always be compared to him and never come close to matching up but don't become the ShamWow guy either.
-Canadian Castaway
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