Day 250
This blog is a special edition as I am blogging in the study room of my residence hall. My friend (whom you will hear about later) is currently on a blow up bed in my room and the temptation to talk to her exceeds my ability to get this blog done. But, that is boring--anyway, the study lounge I am in is supposed to be unoccupied after 11:30 pm and I have never been up here this late, turns out it is occupied. I am up here with a usually quiet guy who keeps turning pages. He just announced to me that he is going to, "take a coffee break soon." Oh, and it's nearly 2 am. I think that this could be my new hobby--coming up to the study lounge to blog in the middle of the night while wearing my ridiculous pajamas.
Apparently, the coffee break starts now as he has just left me in this ridiculously lit space with all of the papers that he has been flipping for the past 20 minutes. Hmm...I wonder what other types of shenanigans go on here in the middle of the night. I must say that the Che Guevara poster staring at me is even more terrifying than the paper turner who drinks 2 am coffees. I wonder if I should tell the paper turner that I was at a party this evening and saw a photo of him with his shirt off in a photo album that was a present to the birthday girl and that he looked super hot. Umm, nah. Especially since I think that this coffee break may have had something to do with him asking me if I blog loudly. Perhaps, I do. Hmm.
So, today began with me stealing a cart. As I was making my getaway I rolled it across pavement. The sound of this action was louder than a dump truck passing by. I guess I am not too good at committing crimes--my record of arrest is more proof than the cart that by the way, I returned. Anyway, I was taking the stolen cart over to my friend's place so that we could load it up with her shit that she had to have out of her apartment, as it was the last day she had the place. This is the girl who is now sleeping on the deluxe air mattress on my floor.
When I arrived at her place I realized that the "Can I store a bag at your place for two weeks before I go home" meant, "I need to store a mountain of shit and I haven't really asked anyone else yet." After my friend registered the shock on my face to mean, "Fuck you bitch, you have too much stuff and super fucking poor planning skills" she said that we should take her giant skis and ski boot bag to a friend's house. I helped her haul the shit over, and she shoved it in one of his closets. We talked with him for a few minutes and he showed us his arms, which were covered in a series of red welts that reminded me of the time that I looked up bed bug bites on google image and I wanted to puke.
After we left his possibly bed bug ridden place and I felt creepy crawly we hauled the full cartload over to my place, along with a giant wheeled bag. The shit on the cart only fell off like 12 times before we made it down the block to my place. The only casualties were my patience and a shot glass that had a map of Iceland on it.
When I realized that most of her shit was food products that I could keep I was elated--until, I realized that this was maybe evidence suggesting that I am a hoarder. I swear I will never forgive my friend for introducing me to that show. It's weird, I mean, if you watch Intervention you can at least think, well I may smoke a little and pop a few pills, but I am not a naked meth addict screaming at my sister in a driveway. But, when you watch Hoarders, you think, shit I just brought home a frisbee, does that make me a hoarder?
After the debacle of my friend dropping off her stuff, she and I went out so that she could buy me lunch. When we got to where we were gonna eat, she realized that she didn't have any money, as she had packed her wallet. It's funny as my horoscope today said that I would have a face off with a friend. What it didn't tell me was that that face off could last all day from cart thievery to her sleeping on my friend's airbed on my floor. At least there was forgiveness and wine in between.
So, not only did I have to help a friend move today I had to assemble a birthday gift for a friend whose party was this evening. A few weeks back I sent out an email to many people that I know, asking them if they'd like to contribute towards getting her a gift. Several people expressed interest, little did I know that expressing interest didn't really mean that they would actually contribute. I had to scrape together what we had and get a suitable gift. This would've been easy had I not been me. And by me, I mean, the girl who gets super effing pissed off when people go back on their word and don't respond to the second chance email I'd sent about getting money for the gift. Lesson: Get a shitty gift on your own, at least then you don't have to stop people who didn't actually contribute from signing the card. I was just going to write, "I am not bitter" but, I totally am.
The party was only slightly better than the present fetching. Okay, so it was only better because there was food. Shitty food. Well, if the first perogies I ate in my life weren't prepared by a fat Ukrainian grandmother, maybe I'd settle for not-so-awesome perogies. Anyhow, I was seated by a few friends and an asshole. The kind of asshole that goes out with your friend and breaks up with her at the first inkling that she expresses concern about their relationship. He later moved seats to be further from me. Then a so-called friend sat near me, and proceeded to bring up my sucky post office job and interrogate me about all shitty aspects of my life, knowing that she was pissing me off. If that weren't enough she started her officious (that's my favorite word) account of who I was based on who she thought I am based on what she gathered about me the few times that we have hung out. Need I mention that all of those times we hung out involved her talking only? Apparently, the way I agreed with what she was saying tells her who I am.
And then, a guy I barely know (one who signed the card and said he'd contribute, but didn't) started to ask me about the pub I am laid off from. This is quite normal, as everyone asks me about the pub like I know anything. And, all of this asking reminds me that I have been told nothing and makes me hateful. Today, after everything else, this questioning just made me want to shove olive pits in this guys eyes. He gave another of my seatmates a look, that asked, 'Why is she such a bitch?' And to this my friend responded, "She doesn't like questions and she's edgy." I never felt so understood in my life.
Note: It is now 2:30 and there is no sign of the coffee break guy. I kind of want to stay and see if he'll return, but I kind of also want to brush my teeth. Oh, what to do?
Tip of the Day: Don't read your horoscope, it's much more fun to be surprised that you are going to be a bitch.
-Canadian Castaway
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