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
No comments:
Post a Comment