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
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