Day 315
I am writing this at an unprecedented time: 4:05. Usually when I write this blog it is past midnight and I am nowhere near coherent or sober. Today though I will be going to bed at 8 pm due to my having to wake up at 4 am. I guess you can compare as to whether or not the sober and awake blogging is better than the semi-coherent blogging. Hopefully, both don't suck. My bet is the sober blogging is superior but, many well-read writers are substance abusers so...
I always think that people who talk about the whether are boring. Guess I can be boring. It is too damn hot today. Seriously, if I am going to work up this much of a sweat I had better be getting some, not just peddling around campus. I feel rashes coming on. The thing that worries me the most though is that where I am going for the next three weeks is at least 20 degrees (in motherfuckin' Fahrenheit, I still refuse to learn Celsius) plus at least 45% more in humidity. I can't remember why I wanted to go home. Oh yeah, because there is an abundance of meat and people who think recycling is a myth.
Today I was talking to my father on the phone. Here is my favorite part of our conversation:
Me: I need to ask you for a favor.
Dad: What could it possibly be now?
Me: Could you pretend to not like Mom's Shipwreck hotdish when I am home?
Dad: Why would I do that? That is my favorite thing that your mother makes.
Me: Yeah, I know, but I hate it and I don't want to eat it.
Dad: No way, that is deceitful. Maybe you should be the one who lies and says that you like it.
Me (faking I can't hear him): Hello? Hello? He-llo?
Dad: You can't laugh when you are doing that or I know you are faking.
Today I woke up to a torrent of emails from the secretary of my program regarding a scholarship that I am applying for. She had apparently not been told about it and started to call around about it and send out emails to the faculty. I went into her office and did that thing where you get mad at someone for trying to help you but you've already got it figured out and then you feel super guilty about it. I wonder if she was prolonging the guilt this afternoon when she offered to personally walk a reference letter to the appropriate office? Because it totally worked. I wonder if I found one of those magic lamps with genies in them if I'd ask to be less of an asshole or if I'd ask for a pony with a pink mane?
Also this morning I spoke with my friend via Skype. She is in another country (you know where you are betch, you are the only person who reads this thing). She was sitting in her office and holding up her milk and juice containers so that I could see the foreign writing on them. I read one aloud and she laughed at my mispronunciation. After a few minutes it dawned on me; I should have my own youtube channel devoted to me reading the labels on foreign packing. I could be a celebrity and go around the world on potato chip bags and OJ cartons. I read an article that spoke to the billionaires of the world and tip number one was finding a need and filling it. I've found my need.
After I met with the woman who is supposedly a judge on the scholarship that I applied to. (Umm yeah, she asked me why I had four people writing me recommendation letters and then looked down at the guidelines and said, "Oh, I guess it says three or more...") I went to find my friend. I went to his building and he wasn't there, bummed I started leave only to see him coming up the pathway. One side of his face was all puffed out like he was one of those adorable chubby-cheeked babies that you wonder if they will grow up to be fat or anorexic or both. He informed me, and I also inferred from the giant box of Advil, that he had a tooth problem. He said that he broke a tooth last year and has been suffering ever since due to his fear of going to the dentist. Then I found another need I could fill: I could be a sneak attack person hired to knock out people who are too afraid to go to the dentist and drag them there.
I went to the drugstore to get some Tylenol PMs. Because that is what Americans without Ambien prescriptions do when they need sleep. I went to the local drugstore to find that they didn't have Tylenol PM. I started to panic when I realized that they didn't have Advil PM or even the shitty generic PM. This tiny Asian pharmacist came over to ask the guy next to me if he needed help and before he could finish, "I'm fine, thank you" I piped in with, "I do!" I asked her where the Tylenol PM was located and she gave me a funny look. Then we both scanned the shelves and she went over to her computer to look up the ingredients in Tylenol PM. She asked me if I had a headache and if that is why I couldn't sleep. And it was the way she looked at me, all confused like, that made me simultaneously want to say yes even though I didn't or, "No you dumbass, Americans pop these to sleep don't you know anything in this backass country?! And stop looking at me like I am an addict!" I just picked up the generic bottle that read, "Sleep Well" and went on my way without comment.
Well, that is all for my sober blogging. Hopefully, I will get some rest and be able to wake up at 4 to catch a cab to catch a bus to catch a plane to be greeted by my best friend's boyfriend whom I've only met once and then catch another bus. Damn, traveling sounds fun. Not. More to come from the homeland and the city that they say is windier than it ever actually really is. (love the awkward incorrectness of ending a sentence with "is.")
Tip of the Day: Don't go back to smoking because telling people you are a quitter is much more fun than telling them you are a smoker.
-Canadian Castaway
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