Responsible, Sure?, Creeper and Kids, Financial Circumstance, The (Lack of) Fan Saga, Dinner Banter, Cunt-stomer Monster

Day 307

This morning I woke up repeatedly starting at 3:40 am due to the fact that my white noise-making machine quit on me last night. Thus began my day with the fan search. But before I began searching for a fan I thought I should make an appearance in my department. I had to ask the admin lady if I could indeed be a TA Coordinator or not as I am an International student and we do not qualify for many work study-funded positions. When I went in to ask her she said there are ways of working around things and then she asked me about the Creative Writing Student Association and said, "You were going to be in charge of that this year, right?" I paused and finally replied, "Oh yes, sure, of course, I am very excited about it." Hopefully it didn't sound like, "I totally fucking forgot all about it, kinda. Whoops! I am a dumbass and you shouldn't trust me with responsibility."

I went to my secret hideaway coffeeshop this afternoon where I heard some creeper old guy talking to two barely-20 girls. And remembered the creeper guy like that at my old coffeeshop and felt homesick. Luckily, no matter where you go there will always be the coffee creeper. After a little while a herd of six year old boys came streaming out of the coffeeshop and ran up the street yelling out the lyrics, "When I get older, I will be stronger just like a waving flag!" And the nasty cockles of my heart were warmed. Then, I didn't get anything done.

For this scholarship I am applying for I have to write a "Financial Circumstances Statement." The description for this section is kind of vague. I am wondering if they would appreciate a short answer like, "Broke" or "Destitute" or maybe I should be more honest and write, "hilarious."

I went to the local business supply store to procure a fan. They only had a few models so I picked the cheapest one as it didn't really matter because they were all quite shitty. I brought it home and started to put it together while I was watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and that fucking ghost show where they never, ever catch any ghosts on tape. So I get it all out of the package and line up all the parts and I even read the directions. Since I suck at building Lego pirate ships I totally take pride in the assembly of simpler things like fans. Anyway, I put it nearly together when I realize that the crappy nut used to hold the fan blade on is made out of plastic and it doesn't quite fit into the screw. This pisses me off to no end as 1. I didn't get any sleep due to lack of fan-age. And, 2. I paid 20 bucks for that fan. In Canada they must find it hilarious to charge double what we would pay in the U.S. for cheap household items. So, no fan + no ghosts = double suck. Thank God, I had freeze pops and no bathtub to slit my wrists in.

I took back the fan before dinner and exchanged it for another one. This reminded me of a few things. 1. I had to walk there because I don't have a backpack big enough to carry the fan and don't trust it on the handlebars and walking sucks. and, 2. They didn't have a bag big enough to hold the fan box at the office supply store. Seriously? Don't tell me you don't have a bag. Anyway, I got it returned and grabbed another one, trying to guess from the crappy packaging which one wouldn't be broken. Turns out I picked the wrong one, again. Or, none of them can be assembled properly. Or, I am not doing it right which is not possible, nevermind.

At dinner I sat next to a Canadian guy that I hang around. Usually I pick on him and we laugh and he sings. Well, to be specific, he sings and every song he sings turns into a barbershop-sounding number. Tonight though, he started going on about what is wrong with America and what he thinks the American government should've done with its money throughout the years. To which I responded, "You know what's really annoying? When every goddamn Canadian in the world not only possesses but feels obligated to share their fucking opinion of what the U.S. is like and what the U.S. should do when they have never even lived in the U.S. Fuck you." "What?" he asked. "I said, fuck you, pretty sure you heard me." And the rest of dinner was spent in silence until he said, "It's a good thing they don't give us use steak knives at dinner." "Yeah, for your sake," I responded. Then it went back to silence.

After dinner and my fight I walked to the drugstore to get another fan. When I got there it turns out that they did have fans for sale. When I looked closer at the fans I realized that they were two bucks more. When I looked even closer it turns out that the fans they had were the exact same fans that they had at the business supply store just in slightly different generic packaging. Then I did the thing that I most hate people doing in the world considering how many underpaid cunt-stomer service jobs I've held--I started to tell my life story regarding today's fan debacle and how I couldn't sleep, as though the lady cared. This fan thing is turning me into a monster. We'll see what tomorrow brings but, if I continue to be a bitchy cunt-stomer who thinks that anybody cares I will have to find someone to kick my ass or spit in my food.

Tip of the Day: As it turns out watching that extra couple of hours of The Simpsons and Family Guy doesn't actually make you funnier conversely, it makes you a little bit sadder.

-Canadian Castaway

Boring Morning, 2 Lessons, Geeky Losers, Rock and Roll?, Or Even More!

Day 306

This morning was one of those awesome mornings when you get tons of shit done. Unfortunately, this doesn't make for interesting stories. I got a job application done and a few crucial emails and calls. I now have a hair appointment and a transcript on the way. But really nothing exciting to say about any of it.

After my productive morning I went to work today and learned two new things. One of the services we provide at the Post Office is that if you are not home we hold your packages for you to come and pick up. When you pick up your packages you must show a government ID and since we are located on campus many people try and show their student ID cards as proof of who they are but nearly everyone of them will pull out a government ID no problem when asked. Everyone that is except the bitch today. She thought it would be best to argue with me like there was something to win. I played along for a little while until I realized I have a secret weapon. "Well that's how it is and if you've got a problem with that you can come and talk to my manager tomorrow."

The other thing I learned while working at the Post Office today was that I could close the Post Office without having any clue as to how to do it. I figure you can't really mess anything up too badly if you count the money and turn off the lights. That is all you really should do if you are getting paid in slaps to the face and combined with one of the smallest denomination of Monopoly money per hour.

I have been waiting all night for my friend to get ahold of me. Seriously, I can't imagine something more loserly to be doing right now. The friend I am referring to is a guy I know who studies in my homestate and is here, as in in my residence, for a conference. At first I thought, 'How the hell is he hanging with geeky conference losers instead of me?' my second thoughts, 'He's getting a PhD, he is a geeky loser.' And, 'I bet those geeky losers are out on the town having fun not sitting at home watching Extreme Home Makeover and waiting to cry. Shit, I wonder if I can catch up with them.'

So the 100 Greatest Rock songs are on TV. It does rock but what is surprising is that so many of the guys in the greatest rock bands of all time are now in Christian rock bands. I wonder if they still rock and nobody knows about it. Hmm, probably not. What I really want to know though is how many people in rock over the years have had perms. Also, what the fuck is Bret Michaels doing wearing a Bret Michaels t-shirt, seriously?

"Everyone on Quest is looking for casual dating, love or even more!" This is what the lady on the freaky telephone singles line said. If it isn't freaky enough that there are still singles phone lines what does the "...or even more!" mean? Last I checked "casual dating" and "love" are the only two ways a relationship can go besides non-existent. What the hell are they talking about? Fuzzy fetishism? Bestiality? I don't get it. I wonder if they have a helpline, in more ways than one.

Tip of the Day: It's okay to hate Bret Michaels and the fact that he won't go away. It's okay.

-Canadian Castaway

Morning, Friend Invasion, Bank Face, Shy, Starburst Wrappers and Jamaican Men

Day 305

Today was one of those days when you wake up and watch Dazed and Confused on television. And later you realize that the episode of Family Jewels that is on is one that you have already seen twice and ohh, on Channel 37, they are playing back to back showings of Forrest Gump.

I woke up to an email from a friend of mine who is visiting my campus for a conference. I didn't know exactly where he would be but I knew he would be staying on campus and since I live on a huge campus that could be anywhere. As a member of the crew that sets up seating for conferences in my building I took a look at the calendar and saw that the department he studies in was having a conference in my building. When I walked into the conference room area I spotted my friend, immediately (it's not hard to find a freakishly tall guy with a large head and a ponytail okay, they are way more native to Grad school). He, of course, was speaking in Chinese to Chinese guys because he taught himself Chinese, of course. I went and stood right up next to them and because my friend is such a huge genius and can barely function in social settings and because he is totally oblivious all the time he of course didn't notice me even though the Chinese guys did. At least I know his hearing works because when I said, "Hey!" he looked at me and, despite him being oblivious, he recognized me and hugged me.

I went to the bank today to check the balance on my account. Since the bank isn't actually open today I had to go into that weird glassed-in area with the ATMs. I hate that room. I always feel like someone is watching me and is going to rob me in there like on that one episode of Dawson's Creek. So, I always go in there with my ghetto face: the "You don't want to fuck with this" face. It wasn't until today that I realized that the people who are in the ATM glassed-in area are much more afraid of me than I am of them turning into scenes from a cancelled teen primetime soap.

I am really bad at asking people out. I really don't believe that anyone is actually really good at it but I am still in the worst category of the bad at. Anyway, there is one guy I want to ask out and luckily he is someone who is not often around which should make it easier if he says no. Before dinner this evening I looked in the mirror and thought out loud, "Wow, you could use some make up and new clothes. Fuck it, who am I trying to impress?" And, after I bitched loudly at dinner about whatever the fuck Dim Sum (translation: food that looks like cheap toys) was I looked over to see the super nice guy I want to ask out sitting at the table behind me. I took a chance and went up to him and talked for a bit and much to my surprise I wasn't a ridiculous hot mess. I didn't say things too loudly or belt out a string of outrageous punchlines to cover my real feelings. Plus, he was actually laughing at what I was saying and didn't walk away from me. Now if only I had the guts to ask him out.

After dinner and not asking out the guy I actually like, two other guys followed me to my room. Okay so they came because I lured them with the promise of freeze pops and they pretty much lectured me when they got to my room because not only did I leave my light on when I wasn't in my room I wasn't using the proper energy-saving lightbulb technology I should be using. But, before we left dinner I showed them how I could tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue and teeth. And, when I made a joke about how I pretty much spend my nights with a pair of gorgeous Jamaican men the quieter of the two I was sitting with mumbled, "Can I watch?" To which I retored in a way to serious tone, "Yes, definitely." After that came the talk about taking a Starburst out of the wrapper using only your mouth. Next week we will see who can and cannot do it. In a weird way I am hoping the guy who wants to watch me and my imaginary Jamaicans can unwrap it.

So there is a party going on in a suburb that takes an hour and a half to get to if you take the speedy transit. The party is taking place at the fancy house of my professor who has a million dollar book deal. A friend of mine is housesitting for him and was given permission to have a party and when you party at this profs house it means open bar. But, guess what I am doing? Umm yeah, drinking mint tea and watching Family Guy at home almost calling up people I know.

Tip of the Day: Is there a "Exes With" option on Facebook? You know like, "In a Relationship with..." but "Exes with..."

-Canadian Castaway

Send It, FedEx-pectations, Bitchy Customer, Table for One Loser, Don't be Afraid, Dogs in Movies, King Vs. Gaga

Day 304

This morning I woke up and went to work tweaking the contest submission I have been preparing for for three weeks. After a brief talk with my mother that involved me bitching about getting shit together for the contest she told me that I should just send it off today instead of on Monday like I had planned to do. So, I finished everything, re-read everything, and for the first time that I can remember I burned documents to a CD. I packed it all up by 1 pm and got on a bus. I wonder if my mother knows about the control she has over me.

I finally arrived at the nearest FedEx location only to find that the reviews online about poorly trained employees were indeed true. The first thing I noticed was a woman at the FedEx counter who was arguing with two store employees. The guy behind the counter running the show said, "I don't normally do FedEx, so..." "You are wearing the shirt," the woman retorted right before she said that she wanted a refund, 4 times.

By the time I got up to the counter I basically said to the guy, "I need you to guarantee that this will get to California by Tuesday, can you do that? I need you to tell me you can do that, without a doubt, and if you can't I can come back on Monday." He told me to come back in an hour when the guy who knows what is going on comes in. I never get so assertive with customer service employees it was very strange but at least the script I have worked so hard on might actually have a chance to get to its destination. Plus, it was one less bitchy woman customer that guy didn't have to deal with today.

I went to a cafe down the block to wait. When I got in there I discovered that I was treated like a loser. Yeah, you walk in by yourself and ask for a table for one and the waitresses act like you are a sad little leper. Across the restaurant from me sat another woman who was by herself and what's weird is that she did look at me like a sad little leper. I wondered if I looked like that but then I realized that my hair was slightly less frumpy and felt better. Hey, nobody said I wasn't vain.

Just before I made it back to FedEx and mailed off my script with the guy who allegedly knew how to send it off I was walking up the street and saw a funny and disturbing scene. I saw a pretty couple walking in a crosswalk. Some guy in the car stopped just before the sidewalk leaned out his car window and said, "Hey, if he doesn't love you, you let me know." This was quite funny but then he held something out of the car window (I am not sure what) and he said, "Come on honey, come and take it. Don't be afraid." I wonder how many times he's done that.

When I got home from the bar tonight I turned on the television to find a black and white movie. At first it seemed like any black and white movie with stilted dialogue and old timey music until I realized the entire cast of the movie, including an arena scene was acted by dogs that walk on their hind feet and wear hats. My immediate thought: I. WISH. I. WAS. HIGH. INSTEAD. OF. DRUNK. RIGHT. NOW. My second thought, holy shit, this is insane. I wonder if there are boards stuck in their backs and I wonder if they had peanut butter in their mouths and isn't that dog smoking a cigarette friggin awesome. I didn't make it through the film but I do wonder if at the end of it there was a disclaimer stating, "Animals were most definitely harmed during the making of this film."

After the dog show I found Lady Gaga on Larry King. Turns out that Larry King IS a horrible interviewer, it wasn't just me thinking it. He barks questions at the interviewees, laughs at things that aren't funny, and interrupts the interviewee during their answers to ask them irrelevant questions. No wonder Lady Gaga didn't make the trip to see him in person and got them to come to her. I bet he farts the whole time he does interviews anyway.

Tip of the Day: If the tap water tastes funny drink it, if it means that you aren't going to be hungover tomorrow.

-Canadian Castaway

Bullshit Preambles, Braces or Car, Virgos, Canadian Carts, Checkout Fight, No Cellphone Suck It, Tornado Warning, Friday Nights

Day 303

This morning was spent sending out emails asking for letters of recommendation. There is a fellowship that I can apply for and one of the requirements is that you get at least 3 letters of reference. There is nothing more strange than asking people to write wonderful things about you. Even the small talk that precedes the asking about, "How is your summer going?" sounds fake. Would it be better to say, "I need you to write nice things about me, you in?" Let's face it, "How is your summer going?" isn't actually a question it's a preamble.

Today I finally used my Zipcar. I was so excited that when my friend was a minute late in joining me I started to curse her and text her. When we finally got the damn thing going I was still so excited that I was literally bouncing in my seat. I guess I've always had this thing for driving and cars, ever since the day my dad said, "Braces for your teeth or a car?" and the jingle of keys dropped into my hand. Which, btw, he denied doing today and laughed and laughed and demanded that for next Father's Day I get him a mug that reads, "World's Worst Dad."

I need to stop hanging out with Virgos. Every time I hang out with someone on a regular basis lately it seems to be with a Virgo and whenever I get super excited about something they sit there all stoic. Anyway, me and my unexcited Virgo friend get to the chintzy grocery store and I park the car in a tiny parking lot. The store is sort of like in White Noise when there is that store with all the same packaging, except the packaging in this store is yellow. While in the store I realize that since I have a car I need to buy all of the things that I don't buy because I do not have a strong Norwegian boyfriend to haul them home.

The actual shopping part of the trip went pretty well, except for the part where I had to get a cart. Where I come from you don't have to put money in a cart to be able to use a cart. Only one other time have I actually gone to the trouble of putting money into the cart and that time it took one loonie. This time I tried and tried to shove a loonie into the cart without seeing the "25 C" clearly marked on it. My question is, is if they are only going to charge only a quarter why charge at all? Pretty sure even on a horrible day a bum could find a quarter in this city if they are worried about people stealing the carts--no wait, they probably just do it for kicks. They probably do it to see how many jackholes try to shove a loonie into the carts.

Besides me running into every single endcap the store has due to the gigantic cart everything went fine...until check out. In my check out line there were two women who were strangers to each other having a conversation that went something like this, "I don't appreciate you acting like I am some bad person, I am actually a very good person." "I didn't say you were a bad person, you just took up too much room and time. You need to get your items lined up properly." This would've been quite funny had I not been in a hurry to get the car back as the time it was supposed to be back in 10 minutes.

The women were each taking up a lane of the checkout conveyor mostly due to the rate at which Canadian supermarket employees ring up items and the fact that they spent their time arguing. Then, the checkout lady bitched at me about their being too much stuff when the fighters who checked out before me were still packing up their stuff and bickering.

Finally, my friend and I made it to the car only to realize that we needed to call the Zipcar peeps to extend our time with the car. I got on the phone with the automated phone line and looked behind to back out and had to wait out a few cars. When I turned back around there was some woman standing in front of my car waving her hands at me wildly.

I looked on all sides of the car to see what she was waving about and saw nothing of concern. My friend said, "I think she is waving at you because you are on your cellphone and about to drive away." Sure enough, the middle-aged flappy-armed woman was now making a "call me" sign followed by making an X-shape with her arms. I ignored the display.

There were still cars behind me so I had to wait. And instead of leaving the woman opened the door to the car next to me and started honking the horn trying to get my attention. By that time I had already missed the automated option to extend the car rental. I threw my phone to my friend and said, "You figure this out, I gotta get away from this woman." And, with that, I backed out of the space. When I looked over at my friend on the phone I realized I gave the obnoxious flappy-armed woman exactly what she wanted and I wanted to go back there and take another call while cruising the lot waiting for her to return.

I called my mother this afternoon and asked her what she was doing. Her response, "I am in the basement. There are tornadoes everywhere." I said, "Good, now you can clean out the basement." Her response, "Maybe we'll find that Chutes and Ladders game and we can play it."

I never imagined that I would spend my Friday nights watching a ghostbusting show that never really finds any proof of the existence of ghosts, followed by a documentary on the life and times of Britney Spears. I don't want to know if this is existence is cool or pathetic.

Tip of the Day: Turns out you can use your hair dryer just like a weed blower except in your bathroom to chase away dust not leaves.

-Canadian Castaway

Invader, Department Let Down, More to Come, Taco!, Roadshow Wondering, TV Tonight, Marry That!

Day 302

My room was just invaded. I am from a land of mosquitoes but the ones back home aren't the size of baby pterodactyl's. In this part of Canada I have noticed a lack of window screens and an abundance of giant insects. I hopped up on a chair to get the latest pterodactyl. When I threw a shoe at him I fell off the chair and landed on my leg so hard it reverberated in nerve pain. But, the good news is that I killed the bastard AND, The Antiques Road Show is on plus, the appraiser who looks like the Michelin man just appraised a Michelin man.

This morning I woke up and had to quick whip up a summary of the script I have been writing so I could take it to my friend to scan. I met him at the department so he could scan in the items for me on the behemoth copier we have. The only other person in the department was the secretary. I was saddened to not find her calling into a radio contest when I arrived. She also wasn't working out with all of the outdated workout equipment she got a grant for and stores in her office. At least the scanner worked or the trip would've been a total bust.

I have been waiting for a few days now for my advisor to send me an edit of the script I am sending off to a contest. She did respond to my email but, she only commented on the autobiographical summary I had written. She said, "Brilliant!" Later in the email she said, "More to come." I wonder if she was using this, "Brilliant!" as a buttering up for the "Your script sucks" to come. It must be that because it really can't be that hard to find a synonym for brilliant.

Tonight was taco night in the dining hall in the residence where I live. Last time it was taco night. This reminded me of all the Taco Bell trips I used to make back home and I realized that I haven't been to the Taco Bell drive-thru since I went back to eating meat. I guess that is another thing to add to the list of things I need to do when I get home, got to Target, go to Taco Bell and order meat, buy cheap booze and cheap cheese. What am I forgetting? Visit family? nah.

Okay, so now on the Roadshow a cute older man is appraising a cute older woman's trunk (hehehe). The cute old lady upon hearing that her trunk was worth thousands of dollars was speechless. When she could finally talk she said, "I am speechless, you took my breath away, like a kiss." All I can wonder now is whether or not there have been people who have met their future spouses while waiting in line with their crap.

Two things about TV tonight:

1. Yesterday I couldn't find Family Guy on any channel, but today it was on at least once an hour on multiple channels. Turns out the amount of stuff I get done at night is not directly affected by whether or not Family Guy is on. I get nothing done at night except watching TV.

2. I think that the government should do regular screenings in which they make people watch an episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition and if someone doesn't cry at least once during the episode they should be sent into a mental ward.

Tonight at my set-up crew job my friend brought along her boyfriend to help us move some tables and chairs around. When I noticed that he was carrying a stack of 6 chairs, one on top of the other my only reaction was to turn to his girlfriend and say, "Marry that." This makes me wonder, if I ever put up a match.com profile would I put, "I like men who can carry six dining hall chairs stacked together across rooms."

Sidenote: They are playing "Don't Stop Believing" in the advertisement for the Antiques Roadshow. Shit, and they even have Kevin Bacon promoting the program now and he has Bon Jovi hair now. Wow, I learn so much watching Canada's PBS affiliate.

Tip of the Day: When ordering tacos always choose beef, it's worth it.

-Canadian Castaway

Complimentary Morning, FB Writers, Interesting People and Chocolate Milk, Yay!, No Family Guy, Pageant Addict, and Nick "Hottie" Simmons

Day 301

This morning was spent editing and arguing with my bodyguard about the existence/non-existence of my his butt and that was pretty much the thrilling point of the day. Well, his butt and the fact that a friend of mine read my spec script and wrote a long email detailing why it was amazing and how he couldn't find anything to fix. Anyway, here are the very few other things that I noticed and/or that happened today besides those things:

The bad part about having tons of writers as facebook friends is that you have to sift through a lot of poetic status updates.

My mother pointed out that I always have interesting people around me and when you come from where I come from the word "interesting" doesn't have positive connotations. Today when I was working at the Post Office when a handsome man in his thirties came in. He smiled at me like he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. But, as it turns out he was a guy who I had helped pick out stamps before and there was something more childlike to his smile when he brought up stamps. He went on and on about stamps and showed me a card he had made. It looked like black paper with three lines on it. "I am very particular about my cards. See those strips? Those are part of my soccer cleats from three years ago." He wanted to talk about everything, especially soccer and stamps and my home state. It took him nearly an hour to mail his two homemade cards and when he left he promised to remember the name of the town he'd visited in my homestate on his next visit.

That guy reminded me that a few years ago, when I was working in a hotel bar, there was a stamp show every month and I had an older version of this same guy. A guy that just wanted to talk and be friendly and show off his stamps. He even bought me a Tennessee Williams stamp once because he heard I was a huge fan. The only differences between today's stamp guy and the one from years past is that the one from back home didn't have a wedding ring and his form of art was finding me a coupon for chocolate milk. Honestly, it would've been easier today had the guy handed me a chocolate milk coupon instead of me trying to guess what the hell was on his card.

Also while at work today I got a voicemail from a nurse at the clinic where I had bloodwork done at yesterday. The nurse on the phone said that my blood test looked really normal. I was so excited I went out to tell my co-worker about it. Upon seeing the faces of the customers apparently this wasn't something that I was supposed to share aloud.

Tonight I have been watching TV for hours, with a purpose. For some ungodly reason there hasn't been one episode of Family Guy on any channel all night long but I have been looking hard. Here are a few things I saw during the Family Guy outage:

Toddlers and Tiaras: Tonight's version was extra nutty as one of the little girls had a "coach" who was also competing in the pageant. The coach was a 31 year old who grew up doing pageants and said that God had brought her back to doing them again. This is all fine until you realize that she won a crown whose competitors (besides her) were between 10 to 12 years old. Somebody should tell her that 10+ category doesn't mean 31+.

Family Jewels: Umm, I have never had a crush on anybody as hardcore as I am having on Nick Simmons right now. What a gorgeous guy. But, why is it that being 5 years older than him makes me feel like I am crushing on a 4th grader? I am a cougar in training I guess. Growl? Purr? Whatever the fuck noise cougars make.

Some Other Pageant Show: This show had footage of two girls when they were young and in pageants and showed where they were at when they were 17. The richer girl was in a fancy boarding school and the poorer girl was sharing a bedroom with her three sisters and still doing pageants trying to win some money. Okay, so it's not just me. right? This is a terribly fascinating take on life. Right? No? Maybe I am a crackhead for these reality shows. Shit, and I thought being a pageant mom was shameful.

Tip of the Day: If the "onions" in your gravy look like worms, scrape them off, the meat is still good.

-Canadian Castaway

Happy 300th Birthday Blog, Dehydrated for Nothing, Canadian "Waiting Room," Girls, Young and Old, Bloody Thoughts, Package Surprizes, Beach, Cake!

Day 300 YAY!

Wow, it's like that moment in your shitty car when the mileage turns over to 170,000 miles and the damn thing is still running. I have been at this for 300 days now, maybe I should get a life, nah.

This morning I woke up an hour earlier than usual and had to leave the house. I went out to get some blood test to check my levels and see if I have type 2 diabetes. When you get the type 2 test done you must fast for at least 6 hours beforehand. They recommend you just don't eat at night and get the test the next morning. This wouldn't seem like a big deal except for if you are me. If you are me you think that to be safe you should also not drink anything at all and don't even brush your teeth so as not to mess with the test. Turns out you can drink water. But, I was too embarrassed to ask about the brushing of teeth, plus, I didn't want to breathe on any of them.

After I checked in at the place called, "Lab" the old guy at the counter with the strange birthmark on his neck told me to go sit in the waiting area until I was called. I went through the door he was pointing at and wound up in a room that is the size of two dinner tables. I wonder if this is due to the fact that the Canadians have free-ish healthcare and no money for waiting rooms. I also wonder if this used to be the broom closet, which it obviously was, where do they keep the brooms now? In the waiting room I sat next to a Japanese woman and her small girl with a bowl-cut.

The tiny girl looked so cute "reading" a cheezy magazine that had the subtitle, "A Magazine for Mothers." On the other side of the little girl with the unfortunate hair was was a middle-aged woman and her very old mother. Her mother was the only one talking aloud in the "waiting room." She was kvetching about how she doesn't like how they season the food for her where she lives. This made me smile. My grandma always says the same thing. It made me smile until I realized that this statement was more about how older people fight against losing their capability to care for themselves. Then I was sad and wanted to tell her cook to let her season the food before he cooks it but I know better than to think that would solve any of her problems.

I was finally called back to the bloody area and it turns out that the guy with the birthmark was also the guy who took blood. He searched and searched for a vein to draw from and had a hard time finding anything. I was thinking two things during this time. 1. I could never be a junkie because I could never find a vein and, 2. It doesn't really hurt that bad. I could go and get a bunch of tattoos and be just fine.

After the appointment I ran to the soda machine to have my first beverage in 9 hours then I biked home, showing off my gory bandage until I realized it was too cold to be out without a sweater on. When I got home I ate breakfast and grossed everyone out with my blood test story. After that I went to fetch the package I had received in the mail. When I got it back to my room I opened it to find the following:

4 sticks of deodorant
3 toothbrushes
1 tube of Crest
2 newspapers from my hometown area
1 mysterious tub of cotton candy
1 package of Goldfish crackers
1 pound of coffee
3 boxes of Sweetheart confection hearts that are in red, white, and blue colors with patriotic messages on them.
1 giant container of fortune cookies
1 bag of oyster crackers with ranch dip mix on them that my aunt makes and my mother hates.
And,
22 pairs of socks

Thanks, Mom.

After a semi-productive day and another visit to my mailbox to find a letter from my friend in the great wilderness of Ontario I decided to go to the nudie beach to write back to her. I sat there fully-clothed, except for bare feet, writing to my friend about what was going on around here for gossip and how the guy nearest me had the longest dick I've ever seen and a naked girl with the perkiest tits in the world was walking around and in a singsong voice saying, "Shots of jager..." I kept looking up to find other people looking at me. The whole time I thought, they think I am some weird girl who is probably sitting there writing about them so, every so often, I made a show of looking at my friend's letter I had received. It wasn't until just now that I realized I WAS some weird girl writing about them...still am.

I am addicted to Cake Boss. I want to live in the bakery and wash dishes for rent and eat fondant scraps and marry the apprentice baker that Buddy is always yelling at. I especially want to be the adopted daughter of his mother who is always hollering at him. And, I want to get pushed around my his loud-mouth sisters. And, I want the big fat older guy to become my uncle. That's all I want. That's do-able.

"You know it's a big time movie if they put it on a Cheez-It box," said the guy on the Wal-mart commercial. Now I have a new mission in life. Make a movie that is good enough to be on a Cheez-It box. Thanks, Wal-mart.

Tip of the Day: Sometimes you have to get over your fear of bugs and kill one that is dying anyhow. Or, you could hesitate just long enough for an old guy with giant sandals to come along and unknowingly do the job for you.

-Canadian Castaway

Nearing 300, Be Late, Swearing in Front of Cunt-stomers, Positivity Kernel, Fucking Photos, Whiny Bitch, Blood Test Mayhem

Day 299

One day before day 300 which means that I have been here for nearly a year. Wow, that's freaky. Why is it that when I try to look back at the last year or two of my life I always think, "What the hell happened?" It was either munch on a Ginkgo Biloba tree constantly or start a blog of thinly veiled bitchery and bitterness (yes, I'm self aware, mofo). One day when I think, "Gee, what the hell happened to me from the fall of 2009 to fall of 2010?" I can look back and see how stupid I was. Oh well, I'll forget what it says the next minute anyhow.

This morning I set two alarms to ensure that I would wake up for my crappy Post Office job. My alarm not going off was my most recent cause of not making it to work on time so I'd have to think of another excuse and who has the time to prep a lie and practice its delivery when you were supposed to be at work a half hour ago. Anyway, I was only 3 minutes late. Turns out though, being late for work is a super good idea because then you will miss the torrent of assholes that storm the counter right before you are supposed to arrive and are ditched by your boss who is supposed to be helping.

Yeah, today was hell at work. I considered walking out roughly, 43.895 times. Having the computer crash and having to help my friend learn how to do his job while helping seven people is something I just don't get paid enough to deal with. Also, my favorite delivery boy that I hit on for kicks didn't even show up. What a shit smear in the eye kind of day. On the plus side at least 14 customers heard me say "Fuck!" (I thought it was under my breath...). And, when my boss emerged after the 8th rush that she didn't help out with I turned to her and mouthed, "I quit."

The one good part about having a shitty job (besides bitching about it) is that when you get off work you are so relieved to be out of there that the fact that the guy at the coffeeshop gave you taquitos instead of chicken tenders or the fact that you missed getting your package in the mail (even though it's mostly socks but there might be a salami surprise) doesn't affect you.

Tonight at dinner I sat with a friend of mine who used to live up the hall from me. He has come back to defend his thesis (or whatever the hell it is actual academics do). I was so excited to see him he was always so happy and every time I said, "Yay!" he would respond back, "Yay!" We chatted for a bit and then I remembered his only flaw when he said, "I have some pictures to show you..." Then it all came flooding back to me the countless hours I spent looking at horrible photographs of people in a foreign country I don't even know holding band instruments. "Oh, I have so much to do tonight, maybe another time while you are here. I can't wait!" Gawd, even I surprise myself sometimes with my self-control.

You know you are a whiny bitch when: Your mother offers to take you for a weekend to a nice resort-y area and you say. "I don't know Mom, there are lots of bugs around there." Or, when you are working a job that requires you to move ridiculously heavy tables and you say to your co-workers (one who has a stitched-up finger, "I don't want to lift those heavy tables anymore my arms hurt." Sometimes I astound myself. What's even nuttier is that I have a few friends, like friends who actually like me and care and shit.

Tomorrow I am getting a blood test done. It is a general test. I am getting it due to the face that a. I have never had one done and b. a friend of mine was recently diagnosed with cancer which, btw, she is a year younger than I am and finally, c. I realized there are a whole bunch of other terrifying things that people sometimes don't realize they have. Anyway, as part of the test I have to do a glucose fast. This means that I cannot eat or drink anything after midnight tonight. I am freaked out as hell. I mean, normally I try not to eat or drink anything after midnight but I feel like if I can't then I will just do it to break the rules. I mean shit, that's why I started shoplifting when I was young (well, that and the fact that Claire's makes it so easy). What I should be more concerned about is the fact that you do not make an appointment for blood testing and I may have to sit for over an hour or more (who knows) without my morning 4 cups of coffee. I wonder if I'll get the shakes or grab a chair and smash my way through the waiting area. This is why there should be a documentary crew following my ass. At least it'd be more entertaining than watching Kirstie Alley with her brats and animal kingdom.

Tip of the Day: Eminem got hotter. I hope somehow that helps someone as much as it has helped me.

-Canadian Castaway

Not Entertaining, Survivor Skills, On Writing, Father's Day Snooze, G-Chat Love, Chicken Enchiladas, Criticism Mania

Day 298

When you go to bed at 4:30 you wake up at 12:30. I have only been awake for a few hours and in that time I have done yet another edit of my spec script. The spec script is for a contest that I am entering and is also the reason why most of my blog entries have been teeny tiny the last two weeks. Most of my day is usually spent writing, So, there is nothing really all that exciting to report.

But, today not only was I hungover, I was out of food and I couldn't leave my room as I had much work to do on the script. It was like being on Survivor but having more frequent showers and less bugs. I had to eat food that came out of cans. Until my coffee kicked in I really had no idea where the pineapple tidbits came from or what exactly were the "vegetables" floating around in the soup I bought just for the letter-shaped noodles (still don't really know). And despite the survival times I was having I still realized that I was a diva, as it took me twenty minutes to get the cans open as I don't have an electric can opener for the first time in my life. And who says I ain't roughing it?

Anyway, so I finally got another draft of the script done and it is probably five pages too long but I don't care, it makes me laugh. Hopefully, it makes other people laugh as well. I sent it off to a few people I know to read through it and give their opinions, now I get to sit here and wait to hear what is wrong with it or, if I am lucky, what is right with it. Oh the joys of writing. It's sort of like having a kid that you groom to be your vision of an amazing angel and you enroll them in daycare to realize that they are a heathen just like all the other kids. But sometimes they stay amazing angels and the chance of that is all worth it.

As I totally forgot to send a card I decided it was best to call my father. He answered his cellphone on the 7th ring and sounded a little out of it. Okay, so he always sounds a little out of it. Anyway, I asked him if he had been sleeping. He told me that he was visiting my grandmother and was taking a little nap. I am not sure what the point of visiting grandma is if you are just going to sleep it away. We talked for a little bit, well, I mostly talked which could've meant he was sleeping, and then he hung up on me. I tried to call him back several times and his phone rang and rang. I wonder if he fell asleep and if he would even remember that I called to wish him Happy Father's Day.

Today I g-chatted with my bodyguard who is spending his summer in India. My first line, "How much do you love me?" His response, "I love you lots." I miss him but what if the gmail version of him and the real life version of him are actually two different things? Ahh! Anyway, I chatted him up a little and he agreed to edit some of my work. I also made him agree to becoming a Calvin Klein model to support me. That's what you get for loving me, I guess.

I spoke with my mother this evening and she told me that she had fired up the computer. Her computer is from 1998. Anyway, she had gone on the internet to look for a recipe for enchiladas. I have two issues with this. 1. She doesn't even know how to check her yahoo account and she can find recipes? 2. Why is it when I am home and ask what we're having for dinner she pretty much just offers frozen pizza?

In preparation of writing and rewriting my spec script I have been watching episodes of the show I am writing a script for and taking notes on everything. As I mentioned above, I was feeling pretty good about the spec draft I had done--until, I watched and outlined the season finale of the show I am writing for and made notes. Turns out yeah, the writer for that episode is like 100 million times better than I am. I wonder what her first draft looked like. I wonder if she is my age. I wonder if I can pull this off. After all of these thoughts I got my first feedback from a friend, a friend whose opinions I don't usually trust but knows the show. He said the pacing is off, two of the core character voices are off, and it could be funnier. And what is on repeat in my head? "Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck."

Tip of the Day: It's okay to think that watching birds shit is both gross and amazing to see, right?

-Canadian Castaway

4 a.m. again...

Day 297

Let's get right to it, it is nearly 4 am and I would say that I am nearly sober but that might be a lie.

Most of the day was spent walking and biking around. For some reason I had gotten in my head that I should go out to try a new Quiznos sub that I had seen on a commercial. Turns out that the sandwich wasn't really all that good. When I was eating my mediocre sandwich I looked out the window to see a girl in my program standing on the opposite corner wearing a sandwich board. Ironic, huh? Eating a sandwich while seeing a friend wearing a sandwich board.

Anyway, I went up to my friend to see why she was wearing a sandwich board. Apparently, it had something to do with being against raping women. I reached into my pocket to put in a dollar coin and grabbed what may have been a penny (I didn't look) and she handed me a pamphlet after giving a disgusted look in the money jar at my donation. I scoffed at the pamphlet on reflex after I saw the hand drawn pictures that reminded me of the hyper-Christian pamphlets my friends give me as jokes. She gave me a look and I had to tell her that I laughed because I used to collect pamphlets, I guess it's kinda true.

Tonight I went out with a bunch of writers and we went to the beach. I did the thing that my parents used to do at church potlucks--don't bring any food but make sure to eat other people's food. After the beach outing we wound up at a shitty karaoke bar attached to a hotel. Two extremely feminine gay men showed up and told me how much they love me. One of them did an astounding impression of Garth Brooks. Later I watched the extremely hot male writer's roommate and a girl I know make small talk. Just prior to that I did my version of small talk on him, my version, "Who the hell are you? Seriously, who are you? What's your story? What do you want out of life?" I wonder how much of me not dating anyone has to do with my inability to talk to strangers casually.

The screen is starting to look a little blurry better sign off.

Tip of the Day: Don't drink that extra beer, it's a bad idea.

-Canadian Castaway

Tidbits from a Tired Tiddlywink Wannabe

Day 296

Okay so it is late and I have a short attention span so thus, the day in short segments that probably don't make any sense:

This morning I had breakfast and took off to help my lit rag friends mail out the latest issue. By the time I got there they were all almost done and there was no coffee. I got there just in time to carry boxes and have the girl in my program who condescends to me condescend to me.

The reason that my friend decided not to help with the set-up crew's outdoor activity today was because the bottle-blonde busybody from the office may show up and tell us what to do. Next time I will listen when my friends talk as I have no time to deal with folding tables having to be moved six inches.

The Post Office was just as boring as ever today, except when Skip came. Skip is what I call the tweaked out mail pick up guy replacement for our usual good-natured aging hippie mailman. Skip is wild-eyed and seems totally not present. The other day I said something about him not being around and then he showed up totally thinking I had been talking about him like I had a huge crush. Today we had a giant parcel for him. He looked totally bummed. I told him that the customs form had said that the parcel contained Legos. His eyes lit up a little and then he said, "They aren't important." On his way out he actually said, "Goodbye ladies," to me and my co-worker. To which I responded, "See ya later, Skip!" It was the first time I had called him by the name I made for him and he didn't correct me. Maybe his name really is Skip. Oh who cares, at least I have a new hobby, making up names for strangers.

Today was Friday and Friday is the day when there is a sale at the deli on campus. This particular sale day I tried a Smokie Sausage Dog for the first time. And if times should ever get really bleak I will now have something to go on for...undercooked sausage stuffed with jalapenos wrapped in a croissant blanket. Yum. Yum.

There comes a point where you sing in your room even though you know people can hear you. You'd think then you wouldn't be embarrassed to have people hear me sing I wouldn't really care if anyone saw me dancing to Lady Gaga, Avril Lavigne and No Doubt, right? Wrong.

Your fiance (translation: friend who you'll probably marry one day) is on a tour to sample wines as he is a wine buyer and the girlfriend he has that you hate has decided not to join him on the wine tour due to the fact that she doesn't really like wine. If you can't decide who (him or her) to slap line them up and get them both or be glad that you are not them.

This evening I had heard there were complaints of people sitting in the courtyard of my building. When me and my friend were doing the security rounds we barely heard these alleged intruders who were probably just people making out. Then I thought about it and even if they were doing something crazy I wouldn't have called security on them just on principle, these complainers need to start taking action and getting the help they want for themselves.

Craig Ferguson makes me want to become a famous actor so I can go on his show and touch his knee and tell him that he is gorgeous.

Okay, my apologises (apologizing is my new-found Canadian-ness coming through), I need to go to bed. Hopefully I will dream of Craig Ferguson showing up with a Smokie Sausage covered in mustard.

Tip of the Day: Write. Blog. Earlier.

-Canadian Castaway

Uphill, Dead Bird Greeting, Waiting, Exam Room, Blah, Dinner Ball Story, Skype

Day 295

This morning I had yet another adventure in the Canadian Health Care system. On the way to the clinic I had to ride my bike Elliot up a hill. Halfway up the hill I had to stop and rest, pretending to check my fender. I vowed never to tell anyone. A few blocks away I ran into a friend of mine who was riding his bike. First thing I said to him, "Geez, I had to stop halfway up that hill back there." We rode together for a little way and he turned off. I got lost trying to find a sneaky way into the clinic and ended up behind a building next to a dead bird.

When I finally made it to the clinic I looked through the glass window to find my same friend from the bike ride. He asked if I was following him and if I had gotten lost. I laughed and shouted across the crowded lobby of the clinic, "Yeah, I got lost and wound up trapped behind a building with a dead bird!" According to the faces of everyone in the clinic this was an awkward thing to say. He was called back right away and I had to sit in the lobby getting stared down by Asian girls, watch shitty children's tv programming, and wonder why there are only women who work behind the counter where you check in until I got called back.

The worst part about going to the doctor though was waiting in the tiny little exam room. Usually these rooms are annoying but this one was downright bleak. It was so small that even the tissue box had to be tiny. The sink must have been installed in the 1960s which wouldn't be an issue except that when the Docs wash their hands they have to turn the knobs to get it to shut off (gross). Luckily, I didn't have to lay down on the exam bed as it was so small that it was a joke to fat people. Plus, I would've probably bopped my head on the concrete wall surrounding it. I sat in a chair though that had a perfect view of the person waiting in the examination room across the hall and if I turned the other way I could look at a low rent celeb on the cover of the only magazine in the room which was called Flare that still had the "Special $2.99" on it. Fancy.

Most of my day post-doctor visit was spent writing, trying to write, going to the bathroom, and doing laundry. I have a script due for a contest at the end of the month and will probably spend most of my days locked up with coffee and pens. There is really nothing else to tell unless you want to hear about how I don't know how to use my printer and I spent way to much time avoiding work watching music videos for songs I don't even like.

I went to supper at the residence to see that nearly every seat at every table was filled up. After the day of writing and being mostly alone I didn't want to deal with squeezing in somewhere or that dreaded, standing with a loaded tray and looking around for a spot. I grabbed my food to go and started walking back to my room to have dinner with Mall Cops. I was a little bummed about not having any funny stories from sitting around with the oddballs in my building, sometimes they come up with some ridiculous stuff that I blog about. As I was walking away my favorite gay man in my building stopped me outside the dining hall where he was smoking a cigarette, waving it around like a magicwand. Anyway, he told me that he went to the emergency room at 2 am due tot a ball shaving accident. The best part though was that he was more upset that his pubic hair is not finished and he is too scared to go back at it with a razor instead of worrying about cutting open his nut. Guess, I got better stories not eating in the dining hall.

This evening I Skyped with my brother for the first time in months. Here is a summary of our conversation:

He put on his custom-made Towelie costume.
When my friend came over he kept referring to her as a "broad" or "that girl from Alabama" even though she is from Arkansas.
I made him laugh by having my dinosaur pen eat a saltine cracker.
He spun around in his desk chair super fast.
He showed me his business card and his new desk.
We each had a drink.
He informed me that yes he was going to see Dad around Father's Day because he needs to use our parents garage to change the oil on his car.

Tip of the Day: Be glad that you are not on Project Runway.

-Canadian Castaway

Writers are Geeks, Co-workering, Slurpee Line, Wig Woman, Nature

Day 294

This morning I realized what life has become when myself and all of my MFA classmates got up at 8 am and went straight to our computers to register for classes. After everyone was registered everyone updated their facebook statuses saying that they had registered, after that everyone commented on each others facebook status updates, and after that most of them could be found chatting with each other about what classes they did or didn't get into. After I registered and read the status updates and the twelve comments on average trailing each update I made an update asking if anyone else noticed that we were all geeks and only got two comments on it.

In an effort to prevent my co-worker from bodily harm I told her as soon as I got in that I was totally PMSing and crabby. Apparently, to her this meant that she should act like a complete ditz, not listen to me when I was trying to tell her stuff, stand nearly touching me, slap me on the top of my ass and then look at me all psychotic when I told her to back off. On the plus side though, I got to see her craziness exhibited on a male customer today. The first victim to her ways was a guy with a baby afro. "Can I get a stamp?" he asked. "I love your hair!" she squealed. I didn't know if her hitting on him was intentional but I was bored so I competed with her and stole away his attentions by talking about 7-11 and making him laugh with this exchange:

Me: If I owned a 7-11 I could have Slurpees whenever I wanted to.
Him: And your friends could have free Slurpees too.
Me: If I had any friends.

While the weather was splendid outside I was stuck inside watching Toddlers and Tiaras. It's a good thing too as my two absolute favorite Toddlers and Tiaras moments just happened back to back.

1. A pageant mother shows up wearing a braided wig. She explains that she needs to wear the wig to get into the right persona to be creative. Damn, I wonder where I get a ridiculous wig.

2. The next shot was the woman in the wig and her young girls. She had them help out with glueing on the "jewels" to their gowns. She made a concern about being caught for child labor. Shortly after that remark she said that she was getting high from the glue they were using but was not concerned about her kids inhaling the same fumes.

Considering that I missed an extremely nice day outside when I called my mother this evening I decided to walk around the campus. Little did I remember that going outside means encountering nature. Despite the fact that I used to eat crickets when my parents left me alone in the backyard (yeah, I find the fact that they left a 4 year old in the backyard alone a little disturbing too), I used to scream when a fly came near me during those same cricket-eating days. Anyway, so here I was wandering around campus looking for things like coyotes or raccoons to attack me while trying to listen to my mother talking about how she is going to the bathroom when I came across some fluff on the freshly cut grass.

I took a closer look to see that it was fur from a skunk. I told my mother and she told me to run the hell away. But, as with most sorts of gore, it wasn't that easy and upon closer inspection I saw unidentifiable fresh organs in some of the fur and a chunk of skunk jawline. I started my walk home looking in the bushes in case the monster survived such a vicious attack and was looking to stinkbomb retaliate. Meanwhile my mother who is in another country kept saying, "Ooh, look out the animals are going to get you! Whooo." I made it all the way home without seeing a skunk, coyote, or raccoon. But, just now, I looked outside my window to see a rat the size of a football.

Tip of the Day: If you can't call your mother back because you are watching reality tv tell her that you were studying instead.

-Canadian Castaway

Hell and The Post-Devil, Goodbye!, Cookies, Sleeper, Broken Door, Ghostbuster Backpack, Security?

Day 293

I finally made it to work on time today and it sucked. Little did I know that spending my shift kissing up is much better than spending it actually working. Seriously, the Post Office must be a circle of hell, you know, the one with the neverending line up on assholes coming at you wielding objects that can give you papercuts. I am pretty sure that my co-worker who helped the same customer for an hour and left me to sink with the asshole invasion is the devil of this hell. She is the one that my crazy boss hates. I never understood my boss's irritation until today. Here is just a sampling of things I hated about from the past two days:

1.She is constantly in my way even when she moves to get out of my way she is in my way.
2. She has a large forehead, which is fine, but she tries to hide it with wispy awkward bangs.
3. She avoids work more than I do.
4. She leaves parcels everywhere and expects everyone else to put them away.
5. She wore an animal-print button-down shirt today that was too short and too square in the shoulders.
6. She gets in a car accident and still runs and complains that she doesn't have time to go to physical therapy.
7. Sometimes she eats pizza. That would be fine except she is addicted to garlic sauce.

But, I'm not one to bitch or say anything bad about people.

I went to the coffeeshop after work to get some work done. The coffeeshop where the owner never really acknowledges the fact that he recognizes me from my daily visits. I have been moping around the past few days wishing that he'd notice me more and at least say hello. When I was leaving tonight he was sitting outside with his kid and wife. In my tradition of being super polite I was just about to say, "Thank you" to him when his wife piped up way to loudly, "Goodbye! Goodbye!" Now, I hate to be picky but, why couldn't I be greeted with as much enthusiasm as I got when people see me leave?

Tonight I said, "My computer is full of cookies!" I never thought I'd have those words come out of my mouth unless there were crumbs everywhere. Seriously, why the hell are they called cookies and not trackers? I asked my friend why I have cookies and she told me I had been looking at too many porn sites. My response, "No, not lately." Anyway, this whole cookie thing gives me an idea. Cookie Monster could still be addicted to cookies as long as they were virtual cookies, right?

I had to work my setup crew job tonight and while me and my co-workers were moving around tables we discovered something. We discovered a table in the dining hall that had other tables put behind it to block the window glass and had newspapers stacked neatly underneath it and a table cloth draped over it. My co-workers thought this was kind of peculiar until we realized that someone may have slept there last night. This wouldn't be so alarming except that I was the one doing the rounds last night. When I had my staredown with the raccoon last night I was standing so close to this sleeping fort that if the person or persons were already inside they could've reached out and grabbed my ankle. What's worse though, is that if they were already there when I was doing my rounds it would prove yet again how incompetent I am at working my jobs.

Okay so I just got back from tonight's security rounds. I went with another person from the building in case I should encounter the sleepers again. Turns out that one of the main doors that was supposed to be secured was openable despite the red light being on saying it was secure. When we called security they said they'd send out a guy who would be there within 5 minutes and they gave me the number to call for a 24 hour maintenance guy on campus who could fix the door. Two different maintenance guys showed up before the one security guy showed up (20 minutes after we called).

One maintenance guy and I looked at the door only to realize that the pins were flipped. He flipped them back and I laughed, thinking I should've thought of doing that. On the walk to his van I asked him, "Is the Ghostbusters backpack you are wearing part of the maintenance uniform." I laughed and then he told me that it was his tools and he had to carry it on his back because he threw his hip out. I stopped laughing.

The big security guard, myself and another set up crew member looked around to find more evidence of people having slept there. Then the security guard talked about how we should if we see anything suspicious and he would come and break people's legs and throw them off cliffs. And then his cellphone rang. His ringtone: "Boing! Boing!" Before leaving he told us to beware of coyotes and when he said it I looked into his eye and he looked like he had coyote eyes. Then he basically told us that he would run over squirrels if his co-workers didn't make him stop for them. I don't know if this security guard is making me feel secure.

Tip of the Day: Check under the tables?

-Canadian Castaway

Wake Up, Post Hell, Not a Regular, The Big Gay Mouse Safari, Uncle Trump, Health Benefits?, Raccoon Staredown

Day 292

This morning I woke up to go to the bathroom. I checked my clock just in time to see it turn from 9:30 to 9:31 and with that, I was late to work. I called from the toilet letting my boss know I had just woken up. When I got there 20 minutes later I was out of breath from biking uphill and running in. There were customers everywhere and my boss went back to the office to read her Jeffery Deaver book. I went 25 solid minutes on no coffee, water, or food. When I finally begged her to let me get sustenance I found out that in my morning frenzy I had forgotten to pack my wallet.

After I borrowed 10 bucks and got myself a coffee and part of a terrible bran and carrot muffin (seriously, I think I'd rather not have food than eat health food) I asked my boss why I had only received 3 shifts instead of four. "Because we hired your friend," she responded Apparently, my helping out by providing a competent person to work for my manager is rewarded by me working less. Then she told me that she hadn't gotten her period in a month and she feels horribly bloated all of the time and then declared that I would pick up an extra shift tomorrow as she will be taking the day off. If hearing about her health issues weren't enough for one day, I had to work with my friend during a rush and it was only his second day and I had to listen to the life story of an old man from Manhattan mailing a kilo of brochures AND I witnessed two people in line literally yell at each other about how long they each had to wait. The only thing that gets me through the Post Hell (Post Office) is the ridiculousness of it all and the fact that I am quitting.

After work I went to my favorite coffeeshop hideout. I worked on organizing the show I am writing and got quite a bit done while sipping some coffee. I love my hideout coffeeshop. I could go there everyday, twice a day even. I have been going nearly everyday now for awhile and yet the guy who works there everyday acts like he has no idea who I am. I have yet to decide if this is a good thing. There is something about having someone acknowledge you and remember what you want. But, there is something to having someone ignore the fact that you are that girl who goes to the same coffeeshop everyday. Nah, sccrew it, I'd rather walk in and have a coffee waiting for me on the counter.

My friend from the Post Office and his boyfriend met up for a cocktail at the bar who only employs women who look good in plaid skirts. It was then I heard about the fact that they have a mouse in their apartment. My friend's boyfriend told me the plan he learned from the internet about how they were going to catch the mouse. "You take our big red bucket and make a ramp leading up to it and put peanut butter on the inside of the bucket and he'll fall right in." Then he told me that the evening was themed and officially named, "The Big Gay Mouse Safari." I am sure that them building this "humane" trap will be 100 times better than Fievel Goes West as far as mouse adventures go. I give it 10 to 1 that they will wind up keeping the damn thing as a pet.

Tonight my mother was conversing with my uncle when I called her. I was excited to think that I had saved her. I was her excuse to get him to stop him on his rant about the huge sin of gay marriage and how Republicanism can save lives. But what did my mother say? "I am talking to your uncle, I'll call you later." To think that my mother would chose his rants over my rants about how much the Post Office sucks and how I am excited to come home. She'd better be on painkillers again to make a decision like that.

So it's official, I am going to start being healthier. Yeah, this shit has gotten out of control. After my friend and her kid came to visit and I saw the amount of food healthy people eat and noticed how much running around I cannot do with my six year old little buddy and I've decided it's time. I am not sure exactly what this entails, but I am sure it involves me becoming a super bitch due to lack of sugar and the kind of cheese that coats Cheetos and taking it out on my friends. So, I guess just the normal me, times ten. I wonder what's more important being healthier or having friends.

I just returned from doing my evening security rounds job where I go around the building checking doors. Tonight I saw two Chinese guys in the dark dining hall attempting to take a dining room table. They gave up. I wonder if they were more freaked out by the big white girl wearing a hood, pushing on doors or the fact that the tables weigh a ton. As I was checking some of the front doors a raccoon pranced by. Another raccoon heard the commotion at the door. I knelt down and the little monster stood staring at me just on the other side of the glass. I can't believe people think these furry monsters are adorable. All of those animal lovers should get the stare down I got this evening. The little bastard is lucky I don't need a new hat.

Tip of the Day: If you want to get work done you must not know that Intervention is on television.

-Canadian Castaway

Motherly Control, Wanted: New Hideout, The Truth About Bamboo and Pandas, The Buzzing, Re-Evaluate

Day 291

This morning I woke up. When I say morning I mean before eight a.m. My friend and her child got ready to leave at 7:28 am. Luckily, their 7 am alarm didn't wake any of us up. When I was groggy and picking things up I heard the six year old say, "You aren't the boss of me," to her mother. Her mother's response, "Actually, I am." I thought about this for awhile and realized that my own mother it still the boss of me. Thank God she wants me to do things that I want to do like brush my teeth and write.

After I saw my friends off by waving at them from the curb I went back to sleep until noon. I messed around deleting emails and watching Modern Family until the power went out. When I finally made it outside I realized it was yet again another nice day. Instead of tromping to the beach though, I tromped to my favorite coffeeshop hideout. The best part about the coffeeshop is that the only person I know who goes there is someone I am totally smitten over and he doesn't even show up that often. What's even better is that he doesn't talk to me when we are there so I can get work done and so can he. Today when I got there I didn't see him but I did see someone else I know.

Not only was there a person I know, the place was pretty packed. After I greeted my friend I told him I was going to leave to seek out another coffeeshop. I went back down the stairs to discover that the area near the pool table (yeah, a friggin pool table in a coffeeshop, annoying) had a spot open near a window and an AC vent. I set up my stuff, hoping my friend from upstairs wouldn't discover me. When I was ready to write my spec script a non-descript Asian man turned up the volume on his tiny laptop. After I put my ridiculous earbuds in (my big headphones broke, again) and tuned him out my friend showed up downstairs and said hello again and sat at a table facing me. I really need a new hideout.

This afternoon I went to my friend's house to give her some money to help buy a wig for our friend with cancer. On my way there she texted me and told me that she had to run out for twenty minutes and that I should wait in the bamboo garden. Now, I had never been to my friend's house and bamboo, as far as I have been aware thus far in my life, is something that grows in China and feeds panda bears (both seem mythological). I found her house in a ritzy part of town and headed to the backyard to sit amongst bamboo. Turns out bamboo is friggin huge, as in 40 feet tall. Now I finally understand how panda bears get so fat and I can spend all of my evening thinking about how they mow down entire forests of bamboo for one meal. I am not really sure if this is true but I don't really care.

From 2 o'clock or so on there was a buzzing in the hallway. Let me clarify, a sharp, piercing sound that damages your hearing without you even realizing it. When I read an email plea that my neighbor sent out (the one who lives closest to the area emitting the buzzing) I decided to call campus security and they got it fixed an hour later than when I reported the problem. I don't know if I should be impressed that they fixed it at all or depressed that despite it being summer and Canada where crime is non-existent they took that long to respond.

As mentioned above a co-worker of mine from the defunct pub job I had has cancer. She is writing a blog about the experience of it and what chemo does to the body and how she feels emotionally. Nearly each entry is accompanied by photos. As I read through it I wish a few things. I wish that she felt better. I wish that we were better friends so my being there for her doesn't seem fake. I wish that someone would finally cure cancer. I wish that everyone I know, including myself, didn't have to worry about getting cancer. But besides wishes, it really makes you think about how you live your life. Reading about how my friend wants to do all of these things that we take for granted in daily life like shopping for food and lattes or getting into bed without pain really makes you re-evaluate.

Tip of the Day: Do.

-Canadian Castaway

My Kid?, Getting Into the Aquarium, Funny-Looking Folks, Dolphin Behavior, I HATE NATURE, Deli Culture, Beachgoers, NATURE HATES ME

Day 290

Instead of going to my secret blogging location I am in my room with my visitors which includes a six year old who is about to go to bed. The best part though is that as I write this account of my daily happenings she too is writing in her journal. Actually, this evening her mom told me that her favorite bands are The Ramones and The Beastie Boys. After her mother and I stepped out for a bit, we came back to find her hard at writing the account of her day. I am starting to wonder if this kid is mine. I wonder if they even give maternity tests. Hey, if they did then we would all know if Jesus really existed.

Anyway, the big event today was going to the aquarium. But the least of the day was looking at exotic fish. When we got there we were bombarded by a woman who is the wrangler for the man who takes everyone's picture on the way in. My friend said, "No thank you" and was met with a, "But, it's fun!" Then, as we went up to pay, a family cut me off. I got to the counter and the girl behind it said, "I saw that." I responded, "What?" "The face you just made."

Two major things were my favorite part of the aquarium adventure:

1. The fact that my friend and I took pictures of not only the fish, but of the funny-looking people. The first was the big, fat crazed-looking old woman in a tiny cowboy hat. The second was a freakishly tall high school girl in ridiculous socks and with extra long, extra blonde pigtails. The third, and my favorite, was the pic I took of a woman's horrible tattoo of a horse.

2. While we awaited the beginning of the dolphin show many people tried to squeeze in to get a view. We secured a spot for my friend's kid, my friend, and a second row spot for me. When my friend suggested I try to stand on the bench behind where we were I gave it a shot. When I returned, just seconds later, an older couple had taken my spot. My friend tried to get me back into my position. The couple didn't budge. I went out for a minute and looked for a new spot and came back to find them still there. I stood behind the thieving couple and noted, a little loudly, to my friend, "Everyone is so goddamn rude before a dolphin show." My friend retorted something to the same effect and just a few seconds later the couple left.

After the aquarium my friend decided that we should walk through the woods. Seeing as she came all this way to see me I went along with it. But, just after getting a few yards into the wilderness I couldn't help but start bitching just a little bit. I even confessed to hating nature. The bad part was that the six year old started taking my side. I quit complaining for awhile but, when I couldn't hold it in any longer and the kid echoed my sentiment. I think karma put the little thicket in the way of the path we had to walk through for inadvertently making a child hate the woods.

This afternoon we drove forever (and past 200 naked people riding bikes) to get to a Greek restaurant only to find that it was too expensive for us to eat at, luckily though, there was a cheaper Greek deli right next door. The only drawbacks being that the woman who took our orders looked so annoyed at having us come in to eat that she threw down my change and our gyros took nearly a half hour to make. I am not really sure if this a typical behavior for a deli. In the U.S. the deli serves as a quick and cheap place to eat, emphasis on quick. I wonder if the deli employees hold some sort of alliance with the freakishly slow employees who work supermarket checkouts in Canada.

Finally, we made it to the beach to take more pictures of funny-looking people. People like the wrinkled old man wearing only swim trunks. Or, the kid next to us that was buried in sand the entire time we were there. Or, the Asian couple who were both wearing fedoras. And the young couple who had the following conversation while walking down the beach with his hand groping her ass:

Him: This is a great first date.
Her: ...
Him: What was your name again?
Her: ...

The other highlight of the beach was me getting splinters from the log we were leaning against. Including one splinter in my hand and one in my ass. This evening when my friend and I were sitting outside I was attacked by a plant hanging behind the bench I was sitting on and when we moved to another location my friend said, "There is a spider right above your head." I am not convinced that I hate nature, I am convinced that nature hates me.

Tip of the Day: Getting a six year old to give you some space at the beach is easy, all you have to do is say, "Go get me some shells, from way over there."

-Canadian Castaway

And the Six Year Old Adventure Begins...

Day 289

I am now experiencing the wrath of a six year old and in order for this little monster to stand a chance at sleeping and in order to add to the three hours of sleep I got yesterday and to get out of this room I am hiding out in and not supposed to be in I will make this brief, also did I mention the RCMP are circling the parking ramp within my view?

Here goes in chunks as exhausted and tiny as my attention span:

When it comes down to stealing coffee from the bank, you know you need a coffee. Well, coffee and cookies and something called, "thunder sticks." I am not really sure how "thunder sticks" (translation: tubes of inflatable plastic) are supposed to show customer appreciation.

My friend and her child are currently visiting me and they rented a car. It is one of those cars that you look at and say, "It looks like it's trying to be a van." And the next time you see it you say, "Now it kinda looks like it's trying to be an SUV." And the next time you see it you say, "Damn, that BMW is right on the bumper of our land yacht."

After we ate a 46 dollar breakfast we hauled the kid over to the Science Museum where we witnessed tons of kids that were way less well-behaved and parents who were super annoying. Apparently, talking about the price of rubber chips to scatter in your lawn with a perfect stranger is perfectly normal. When we noticed all the lunatic kids running around we also noticed all of their lunatic mothers congregating around talking. Now I wonder if these Mom's drag their kids to the Science Museum just so they will have someone to talk to.

I learned today that throwing sand up in the air over your head and running for cover is a game.

The six year old and I went beach crawling to look for shells. The first thing we spotted, "Look, a crab arm!" As we walked along the beach the pieces of crabs were just as plentiful as the sea shells. Am I the only one who finds this terrifying?

I just spent the last hour in a tickle war. Now that is over and I am the current reigning champion I wonder about tickling itself. When does one stop/grow to old for tickling and why?

After watching the six year old write, "Siens" in her notebook to mean, "Science" I wondered why it wasn't spelled, "Siens." That version is super phonetically correct. I also wondered if her journal was more interesting than my blog. Then I realized it was, I mean come on, it has pictures.

Playing kick the ball at someone's head with a beach ball that was won at Drag Queen Bingo and sports the logo of a men's bath haus is also a very fun game.

Playing, "How fast can you run from here to over there and back?" is even better.

Playing UNO with a six year old who shows everyone her cards and actually gets excited when she has to draw is also quite good.

Okay so I realize that I am in a writing program but, really when I read the facebook walls of my fellow students and read something that contains, "a brief and violent dance with the muse" in it I want to smack people.

I still don't understand why people make stuffed animals that look like themselves for themselves but, now I kind of want one.

This is all I can manage tonight and now there are sirens outside...

Tip of the Day: When in doubt wear at least socks and sometimes shoes.

-Canadian Castaway

Friends Coming to Visit, Kids, Highlight Summary of Exciting Adventures from The Adventureland that is Canada

Day 288

This is a special edition blog entry as I write the moment that I have been cleaning for will arrive. Two weary travelers who will likely not even notice I have cleaned will be joining me. This is the first time I will be having visitors from the U.S. despite everyone telling me before I left how excited they were to come and see me in Canada and me believing me. I know it's very expensive to come here for a visit and people are busy but, it does look pretty bad when the only friend who comes to visit you is the one who is bringing one kid with her and leaving behind another with a broken leg and a new puppy. But, enough with the bitchery, I am gonna try and do that thing where you are grateful for what you have (but it's kinda boring).

I am actually super excited about them coming, particularly my friend's kid that is coming along. When I have been away from kids for awhile I think about how magical they are and wonderful and amazed at everything and the funny shit they say and all the inappropriate shit you can say to them (John Waters tells little girls with pretty handbags how wonderful their handbags are and that they should steal stuff with them). The things that I forget are the little things, like how they sometimes whine and cry uncontrollably and you cannot ditch them. Or how they get super hooked on something you say and keep repeating it and making you repeat it at minimum 84 times. But being able to go to Science World and not look like some freaky overgrown adult child or pervert is totally worth irrational tears and the creation of catchphrases.

So before they arrive I will attempt to recount the interesting bits of my day so far. Here goes:

I went to turn on my TV today and found that every channel had static. I was so freaked out that I hooked and rehooked both ends of the coaxial cables and nothing changed. But the craziest part was when I thought, 'Shit, my TV is dead, what am I gonna do with myself?"

I realized that one of the only reasons I still work at the Post Office is to make customers take all of the ugly stamps, instead of giving them the pretty ones.

I saw one of the nicest men I will ever meet in my life today when I was walking up the street. He is a friend of mine but, sadly, he is the type of friend where you don't even know each others names. Thankfully, he is getting into the profession of being a doctor. There is something so joyful in finding someone who is training to be a doctor that isn't a douche bag. The only downside is that when you ask him where he is off to he will tell you all about how he just sat through a class about sawing through hipbones.

At supper I got into trouble again. This time I made the best joke ever and the person I was making it to basically told me, "Not now, I've had a long day." The joke was that a few of us were talking and he was crunching on a piece of

I want to meet someone whose favorite food is lychee and follow them around and keep a diary of the food they eat.

When I got home from work my TV worked again so I flipped through the channels only to find that nothing was on.

Note: I have now relocated to my secret hiding spot at the college while the six year old who loves to hold hands and climb on people gets ready for bed. She even keeps a journal and spells words in cute kid ways like, "skar" for "scare." She is probably reading a Ramona Quimby book in my room aloud right now. I am kind of sad to be missing it. Anyway, tomorrow we are going kid adventuring in which we will try to convince a 6 year old that you can see whales from the beach. See you tomorrow at bedtime.

Tip of the Day: When your friend says she is too tired to Skype, respect that. When your friend says she is going to take a bath rather than talk to you on the phone tell her, "Who the hell do you think you are? You can take a bath anytime."

-Canadian Castaway

The Payoff, The Process, Not a Closer, Pedagogy Talk Sucks, Sad Story, Who We Are

Day 287

This morning was spent picking things up and putting things away and vacuuming. Doing all of these chores can seriously hinder the excitement of friends coming to town. At least--if I am a very good girl--I get to go to the Science-y type museum in the next few days. Okay, so I don't really care about science but, I'll go anywhere to go to an I-Max show, hopefully it's one with fish in it. I love I-Max movies with fish in them. What's weird though is that I think going to the aquarium is boring (especially when the belugas don't even do tricks).

Once again I met with my advisor and once again she told me that I am wonderful. Also, once again, she told me to trust the process of it all. She didn't tell me the process of it all was to watch Toddlers in Tiaras and eat tortilla chips and not write, that I had to figure out on my own.

Today I was put in charge of closing the Post Office. This is something that I have dreaded for weeks. The closing shift is where you get left by yourself for an hour and, have to count money and run reports and deal with goofy customers. Here is just a sampling of the things that went wrong:

I got a giant papercut under my nail from a box. I will say though, that it was pretty humorous to hand a package to a customer who knew I was bleeding under the napkin around my finger. All I have to say is, you know

According to my co-worker closing is super boring as there are no customers. Her direct quote: "Yesterday I only had one customer from 5 to 6." I was looking forward to this detention-type silence, when a whole clutch of idiot customers showed up.

I nearly yelled at a woman in a hideous airbrush t-shirt who got a little too close to the counter and staring at me while I was helping the guy who had six little packages to send out.

I screwed up the settling up of the credit card machine. I think I settled the transactions and we got the money, but I am pretty sure I didn't print out the records that we need.

The best part though is when I called the helpline to check into the credit card situation I got some guy in India who asked me my name and then asked me how to spell Emily. I gave him a fake last name. When I told him what was going wrong he asked me for the name of the computer and the credit card machine. Finally--after telling him the name of everything and listening to him tell me nothing helpful--I told him, "You know what? I don't care anymore, it's fine--I gotta go." I thought, 'I don't get paid enough to deal with Indian guys and fussy credit card machines' then, I thought, 'if I fuck up enough they will never have me close again.'

If you can count the word "pedagogy" more than once in a dinner conversation you are having a boring dinner conversation. Seriously, sometimes I feel like I am in a peacock show except there are no pretty feathers, there is only huge displays of "look at how many long, intellectual-sounding words I can string along into huge concepts that have no meaning." I'd rather be the ratty peacock than the one who makes approving sounds at the featherless word display. But really I'd rather hear someone talking about Britney Spears's newest rash than teaching theory lectures, yeah that's right, pedagogy is just teaching, snobs.

This evening I got an email with "S.O.S. Wig Fund" written in the subject line. I opened it, thinking it would be some sort of drag queen fundraiser show. What it really was, was a fund to buy a wig for a friend of mine who apparently has Stage II Lymphoma. This is the same friend that had told me how excited she was to quit her jobs and go back to school this summer to finally study something she is passionate about. I wish it were just drag queens raising money.

When I was a baby my father bought a video camera that cost more than what I paid for two of the cars I have owned in my life, combined. Last year I watched all of the Christmas's, birthday parties, Halloween's and Easters, and random family gatherings he filmed. I am not sure what he meant to capture in these videos but I'd venture to say that it was catching who we were at the time. This is a wonderful idea if we were wonderful people. In every video there is a meltdown of the childhood me when I don't get my way, you'd think I'd get used to it. One thing would go wrong and I would freak out and sometimes cry. This is when the camera would turn off or moved on to people having fun. Tonight I was doing my job around the rez where I help on the set-up crew when two chairs squished my middle finger and I pouted but, there was no camera to stop and once again I was the pouty girl.

Tip of the Day: You know you are watching too much TV when you realize that the damn bug control people are always on.

-Canadian Castaway

Not My Boyfriend, Lunchroom/Dining Hall, Celebrity Virus, 80's Music Pay Off, Observation Deck

Day 286

This afternoon my friend Ben and I went out to a diner to grab a milkshake and fries. The guy who served us made the remark, "It's always his fault" after I blamed my friend for making me order a milkshake. My friend who was just texting his longtime boyfriend grinned at me. On the way out of the restaurant the waiter thanked us for coming and then he turned to me and said, "Good luck." I can't help but think that he meant good luck with having that guy as your lover. I didn't respond but, I should've told him that I didn't need luck, I needed a sex change.

There are many ways that living in residence is like high school. This is most evident in the lunchroom-esque setting of scene at dinner. There are the people who used to be friends, much like the people you were friends with when you were in elementary but no longer associate yourself with now that you are a high schooler. Then there is the cliques of people who sit together in impenetrable groups of cool and ethnicity. There are the anorexics and the two people who sit on their own and do not converse with anyone. There are the loud talkers and the shy types that most everyone doesn't get to know. There are the we-had-a-fling-and-no-longer-do types. There are the people who are currently having a fling and swatting at each other under the table and those who are together who hide it in glances that they think go unnoticed. But the thing about high school lunches is that I used to drive two towns over and to skip them. Here, I take my food to my room and turn on Home Improvement to take me away.

Tonight when I was catching up on Canadian celebrity news (who says I don't try) I found out that Alanis Morrisette got married to a guy I have never heard of so I had to go through a few google image results. Just as I started to realize that my waste of time search had gone on a little too long, I clicked on a different photo. I didn't get a photo of her new rapper husband I got a warning from my anti-virus that a threat had been detected. I guess if you mess around with trashiness you always catch something beyond the waste of your time.

I used to be a little ashamed and think it kind of sad that I am addicted to music countdowns...until tonight. Tonight there was an 100 best 80s songs countdown that changed my mind because it contained the song, "Da Butt." Seriously, it doesn't get much better than that.

Due to my day being not all that interesting, actually just thinking about it makes me want to drink a Red Bull, I have a few observations to include:

-Sweet old looking people saying dirty things is one of my favorite things.

-My boss interviewed my friend today for a job at the Post Office. The first thing she said to him after shaking his hand was, "I am so bloated!"

-Two days ago I was watching America's Funniest Videos and swear I saw my Aunt scream when my cousin scared her in a quick video clip. The reason I knew it was them was not because of how they looked (though they did look like younger versions of themselves) but because in the background was the unmistakably hideous wallpaper they had in their kitchen, or maybe I just hope it was one of a kind.

-Today is a good day, the future is looking more and more like Mr. Wonka had intended it, at least according to Stride Gum who is now putting out a flavor-changing gum. Now, if only we had that gum that turns into a meal complete with blueberry pie. If that is not possible I would settle for a Fizzy Lifting Drink.

-If I am bored with Ramona the Brave my 6 year old niece will be, right?

-I wonder if Seth MacFarlane intended for Family Guy to have so many musical numbers.

-It's one thing to say that you went to San Francisco, it's quite another to put up 89 Facebook photos to say that you went to San Francisco, it's quite another thing to be the person who looks through 89 photos of someone who isn't your friend in real life.

-When I was speaking on to my father regarding my mother's recent illness he remarked, "Geez, it was so bad I almost had to call up the funeral home and tell them to fire up the pump."

Tip of the Day: Everyone should have a Mexican wrestling mask lying around, you never know when it will come in handy.

-Canadian Castaway

Pre-Supper Cider, Friends, Meditation Break In, Elliot Up Hill, Whoops, To Do List Friend, Hitting on People

Day 285

How weird is it that Lust for Life is playing on the radio when I am thinking about how I shouldn't have gotten drunk before supper. The thing about buying cider in Canada is that it is super delicious here and it can come in a two liter bottle. The only hang up is that you can't possibly finish an entire bottle in one evening so two nights later you will realize how much you have left and go to finish it up, except cider in Canada is strong and you will get totally pissed.

If you are lucky you will sit at a table that contains a friend who packs up your dinner and suggests that you and her go out shopping to sober you up. The weird part is that she will suggest that you get Oreos, at least 10 times. But, she will carry your soda and jar of pickles on the way home and mutually bitch with you about how everyone in residence is pretentious and fake. (Why is this paragraph in 2nd person?)

My favorite part of my drunken debauchery evening was when I told my friend that we should investigate a room in the residence where they have taken the chairs that she likes. We marched up to the room, me ahead of her. I flipped on the light to see that the meditation group was meditating in the dark. I called out, "Oh, shit!" and slapped the light switch back to off. We ran down the hallway a good ways before my co-hort stopped and I was repeating, "I didn't know!" while she was doubled over laughing. When she finally pulled it together she said, "They could've been reaching Nirvana and you just totally wrecked it!"

Today I rode Elliot to work for the first time. I was really quite proud of myself for going up the hills, slowly, but without stopping. I had just reached the top of the final hill and was very pleased until...some jackhole nearly crashed into me trying to pass my slow ass. People say that Canadians are polite, I am pretty sure he wasn't Canadian. I had better train so I could be fast enough to catch him next time and make him apologize.

At work today I totally snatched on my co-worker. She had told me that she was going to get off work early to go downtown to look for a new planner. She is obsessed with getting a planner. Later, after she had left, my boss came out of the office and I made a joke about how funny it was that my co-worker was going all the way to downtown to get a planner. My boss said, "Really? She told me that she had a doctor's appointment." "That's weird," I said realizing what I had done. "Maybe she had a doctor appointment that was for a private thing and she didn't want to tell me." My boss replied, "Yeah, I doubt it." "Well, ahh, she works really hard, she deserves a little break now and again I guess," I said. My boss said, "Yeah, I guess." I wonder if I should text my co-worker to warn her...

Today I realized that it is less than a week until my friend and her daughter arrive for a visit. I was so excited at the thought of it. I started planning what needed to be done before their arrival and after I'd filled three Post-It notes with a To Do list I realized that all the items on my To Do list were just chores. I was totally bummed out to realize how messy things had become and how much un-fun stuff there was to do. I told my friend about my ridiculous To Do list and her response was, "Don't worry about it, just clear a path." And that is why she is my best friend.

After work I rode Elliot home and took the long way around. Just as I was making the final turn I saw my crush walking his bike along the sidewalk. I stopped and introduced him to Elliot. I asked him what he was doing and he showed me that his bike tire was totally deflated. He then gave me a brief tutorial about how to use gears. And in my unique clueless fashion of how to hit on people I said, "I'll race you home!" and took off. The best part though was that I actually at the time and until my friend pointed out 10 minutes ago believed that I had been cute in doing this little stunt. I wonder if there is some kind of elective I could take for credit about the proper way of hitting on people.

Tip of the Day: If you can tell me and have proof of what is in the glass terrarium behind the Numa Numa guy in the video I will give you one Italian sausage and a lollipop. Seriously, I am guessing turtle. The whole wonderment is sort of ruining the video.

-Canadian Castaway