The Emily Papers

2010-11-11T23:22:00.000-08:00

Okay so let's be honest, I am a total slacker when it comes to updating this blog lately. It could be due to the fact that I am writing 3 scripts right now and holding down two jobs. But, it's not really that. I am just over it a little. But I will update from time to time. Here are a few wacky things that have gone on:

I had a birthday. The party I had for myself I found out that I am popular and that I am cursed. Popular because more than 15 people showed up despite me not really inviting many people personally. Cursed because after we'd had a good time for quite awhile a person at the table behind me fell back in his chair and had a seizure. The next night I went out with a friend and a fight broke out in the usually tame yuppie restaurant where we were munching on 20 dollar salads. I haven't really eaten out since then for fear of what could happen next. I may breed disaster but I'm popular. Is that good?

So, one more quick story today I was trolling around the internet when I noticed a status update from my fav snarky writer regarding an online dating service she'd joined. I looked up the site and answered a couple of questions thinking that it would allow me access to read about the site but what actually happened was that the questions led to more questions and after just a few minutes I wound up with an account. When I trolled around the site I came to the part where they pull up profiles of people they think you'd be interested in. I clicked on one to find that the person they thought I'd be good with had a completely blank profile.

If that didn't deter me enough I saw that you could take personality quizzes on the site. Thinking it was only a few quick questions I set out to find if I was a nerd, geek, or dork. So, I went through like 50 questions only to find out that instead of being a nerd, geek or dork I am an "Outcast Genius." Apparently, despite its name, this means that I am all three with higher parts nerd and this is a good thing.

And further still, if that weren't enough, I trolled around looking at profiles. I discovered what I already knew (Outcast Genius's are super friggin smart apparently)most of the people on dating sites cannot spell, aren't that interesting, and make absolutely no sense. For example I was "Winked" at by a guy who runs like 10K everyday. I have never run, ever. My friggin profile pic on that site is me next to a box of chocolate kids cereal for shits sake.

If that weren't enough I kept trolling around seeing if there was someone, anyone on the site that wasn't a complete tool. Finally, I found someone who didn't seem like a total idiot, perhaps a little freaky but not stupid. So, if finding him weren't enough, I messaged him and told him he should be proud of himself for not being an asshole. What a whirlwind I have been caught in. Well, I'm off to make fun of whomever else may have "Winked" at me in the time it's taken to write this blog.

Tip of the Day: Don't eat too much of that white powder you are supposed to put on your popcorn to make it taste like make-believe white cheddar.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-30T02:23:00.000-07:00

Day 428ish

So here are a few things that happened this week (mostly tonight):

I hosted a Dead Writer party. Apparently, this meant that I was obligated to drink vodka straight from the bottle in a bathroom stall with Walt Disney, Allen Ginsberg, Hunter S. Thompson and William Faulkner.

I went to Michael's craft store. It was disappointing due to the fact that over half of the store was devoted to scrapbooking.

I am working on a Family Guy spec script. I am not sure if it's funny but I am laughing my ass off writing it.

Yesterday a guy who looks like Hermey from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer remembered my name after only meeting me briefly, once, and I was so touched. Did I mention he does improv? I can't tell if I am attracted to him due to the fact that he looks like Hermey, or, that he plays a ridiculously spot-on hilarious old man character or that he is just a nice-seeming fella.

I got to work this evening only to discover that the place was brimming with fake smoke. It was rolling out the door and had the gorgeous security man not been waving me in I probably wouldn't have gone at all. But, even though I did go in I verbally quit the pub job tonight at least 6 times.

So, at the party I threw for the Student Association earlier this week (Dead Writer) most people were very helpful and had a good time. Most people that is except an alleged "friend" of mine who was bitchy the whole time and even came up to me at one point to tell me that he wasn't having fun despite the fact that I made it very clear that I had huge anxiety about pulling the party off. Note: I am getting tons of comments from everyone (but him) about how I threw the best party of the year. Anyway, I have been distancing myself from him and then today received a text that read, "p.s. Is Emily mad at me? She has been very distant and cold with me." Turns out he sent a text about me to me by accident. Idiot. At least I got a few laughs out of it.

Tonight I went to work to discover that the super annoying frat boy I work with is terrified of women's bodily functions so whenever he was annoying me I would turn to him and say, "I am menstruating right next to you."

Also today the cutesy Italian man who works at the pub came dressed in chaps...in honor of Halloween of course, or maybe this is his new look? Anyway, at the end of the night he came up to me, turned around and asked me to help him take them off. Pretty sad that that is the most action I've gotten in a long time. Did I mention I couldn't get them off?

On the walk home from the pub tonight I listened to my voicemail on my American phone to find that a friend of mine who I once made out with had called. I called him back and he didn't remember calling despite it only having been last night that he called. Anyway, we chatted for a bit and then he made sure to tell me to look him up next time I was in town because he's single again.

Alright, it's almost 3 am and I am getting on in years so I must go to bed. Until next week.

Tip of the Day: Deal with it!

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-23T21:32:00.000-07:00

Day 421

So, I haven't blogged about my daily adventures for a solid week. Much has happened but lets stick to just today. Here's an overview:

-This morning I went to the bank and cashed in some American money only to find out that once again it is worth less than Canadian money.

-I went to the office supply store. While there I was encountered with bad news: they no longer have the ink for my printer but, there was good news as well: absolutely none of the employees hounded me to see if I needed help.

-I came home and made some notes on my Family Guy spec script and while I was writing I took a break to see that my friend posted on my Facebook wall. The post was for a drag queen garage sale to benefit charity. And, then I went into what is now called a, "CODE SPARKLE" status.

-I caught the first bus on the way to the sale and had to ride it like a rodeo clown as the bus drivers look nice in this city but secretly love torturing their passengers with jaunty stops and starts, especially if there are tons of people standing.

-My friends and I went to the drag sale only to find that it was basically two tables in a corner of a seedy bar and it was two bucks to get in. We paid the two bucks and got to see sequins, a pair of floral-patterned worn out shoes, and a complete outfit, including wig, that looked like a Janet Reno set. We left without so much as a gaudy handbag to show for it.

-After that we went to the gay diner and got waited on by a horribly mean-looking but ridiculously nice old lesbian who could probably kick anyone's ass and most likely could make a necklace out of all the people's teeth she's knocked out in her life. I liked her so much that I didn't even bother reporting to her that there was a hair in my salad.

-One of my dreams came true...I watched Frankenhooker, again. And this time was also with a gay man who appreciated it. One day I will watch this movie with a non-gay man who also appreciates it and then I will question his sexuality and then I will marry that man.

-I waited in the rain to catch a bus where of course the only person with this years version of the swine flu sat behind me sneezing and hacking.

-When I got home I finished off a giant bag of popcorn and went to the theatre to see a Euripides play called, Hecuba. Let me summarize this version of Hecuba: Lots of people dressed in black and swaying their hips speaking in unison and in a foreign language whenever the fuck they felt like it. Basically, Hecuba (former queen of Troy now a slave) has all of her children die, goes nuts with grief and then enacts her revenge by killing the children of a dude and having her fellow Trojan women blind the dude. For the big finish someone predicts that Hecuba's last living child will die. The end.

-My favorite part of Hecuba was when the Asian kid with the HORRIBLE haircut started to play differently shaped recorders. Though the tone of the play was tragic he was a comic relief and EVERY TIME he played I giggled.

So, that was my day (well, minus beard shopping, ice cream fetching, hitting on a movie store dude, and waiting in the rain) now, I am doing what I do best: watch Family Guy and Absolutely Fabulous and wish I had a snack or at least something to mix my booze with.

So, until next time...whenever the hell that may be.

Tip of the Day: The pita sandwich joint is open before noon.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-16T22:31:00.000-07:00

Day 414

Pretty sure I am watching a show where there is a man addicted to cheeseburgers and before that there was an episode with a woman who drinks at least a 24 pack of Coke a day. It is amazing that I EVER leave the house.

This morning I woke up and started texting my co-worker from bed to see if she would cover a shift for me. During the text I got a call from my manager who asked if I could go into work right away and help out with a function as they were super short-staffed, if I were to go she promised to cover my shift. So, I waddled over to work, and found out that the function meant, a whole room filled with conservatives having a rally. Turns out that the conservatives in the this country are the same as the conservatives in my country: white, old, and upper-class. Which is why when I was standing on the other side of the bar and I looked up during a silence and said, "What the hell? Did they all die at the same time?" I didn't feel bad that one of the conservatives heard me.

Other than that I basically watched TV and ate turkey pepperoni this evening and watched an infomercial for HipHop Abs. I am trying to keep my standards low today so that I can really bust it out tomorrow and get stuff done and it will be that much sweeter...or I am just trying to justify doing nothing but waiting on rich people all day and eating meat bi-product in front of the television.

Tip of the Day: Do.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

Day 412

Today was spent somehow, I am not sure how but here are the bits I can remember of it:

This morning I took the bus to a bookstore. On the bus was a couple they were a bit older and they were both laughing for most of the bus ride. The man's face was so smiley that it made me smile and laugh to myself. Then, after him and his wife stopped talking his face stayed like that and it became sort of creepy.

I got a package in the mail today from a friend back home. In the package was nail polish, lipstick, eyeball-shaped gum, a glass ring, two tea bags and 17 pads of sticky notes. I am not sure where the humor of that situation lies but it must be in there somewhere.

Today I went to pick up a gift certificate at a bookshop my friend works at. While waiting for my friend the look-up-peoples-nostrils-all-day type of short woman flitted around and handed me books and gave me oral book reports including plot details. The woman was a walking spoiler alert! I would've found this fascinating had the woman and myself shared similar tastes in books. After she went on and on about some high-brow French literature (Hey, fuck you, I read literature occasionally, I love Flaubert and Maupassant) I said to the woman, "I really just want to read Sarah Silverman's book called, Bedwetter."

I picked up my very hungover friend and we stopped to get her a sandwich and a Powerade. Turns out that some asswipe at Powerade has designed a cellophane wrapper that is impossible to get off and even if you do by some miracle get it off, there is also a seal to deal with. I bet that dickwad designer laughs their ass off everyday just thinking about how long it takes two drunks to open a bottle.

I went to supper in my building this evening and guess what, it's still annoying. It's almost chronic. Tonight's episode featured a woman who likes to talk A LOT. She started talking and I stood up, signalling I was about to leave the table but no one else was listening to her but me and even that was a stretch. I thought a million times about just walking away but I thought she'd take a hint that I was leaving if I was looming over her. To her I guess the fact that I didn't walk away mid-sentence made her think I was a captivated (not captive) audience. Fuck, I am getting nicer in my old age.

The rest of the evening was spent watching Absolutely Fabulous and other TV shows and telling my bodyguard that he is like my old daycare providers dog in that he lets everyone pull on him and he never bites them. But, he doesn't understand metaphor. Fuck.

Now, I am going to see if I remember how to read.

Tip of the Day: Question: What does having a bottle of water, a cup of coffee and a glass of wine on your desk say about who you are? Answer: Who the fuck cares?

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-14T02:26:00.000-07:00

Day 411

Tonight was drag queen bingo night. All I know for sure is that somehow I made it home and am currently watching Edward Scissorhands on the Canadian equivalent of PBS.

Here are a few other details I can (sort of) remember:

When we were waiting to get in a super loud older guy (possibly homeless) came up to us and kept talking on and on about how he wanted to get a cab. After a friend of mine listened to him for awhile she held out the bag she was eating from and said, "You want a carrot?" The guy, without hesitation, yelled in a husky voice, "Hell no!" He then turned to the street and started yelling, "Cab! Cab!"

My friend and I agreed to be drag queens for Halloween. I am to be the bingo caller drag queen and my friend is the assistant. Note: The bingo caller is the fat, loud one who makes absolutely no effort to sound womanly.

My friend who just broke up with her boyfriend asked a girl to go out with her and got rejected because the girl is engaged. She waited awhile and then found another girl whom she danced with quite sexily until the girl announced she was straight and left without so much as a kiss.

My friend was kissing the sound booth boy.

I wound up kissing a gay man.

I think that "blackout" bingo has a whole new meaning at this club. If you drink enough of the drink special and are not passed out in the bathroom and have played all your bingo rounds until the very end you just may blackout by the time it takes to rustle up a winner. Honestly, I could very well have won the final round had I only been sober enough to pay attention.

I went looking for my bodyguard to leave and found him outside with a crazed-looking homeless man next to him. The homeless guy said something like, "Get away from my boyfriend!" to me. He then pulled my bodyguard aside and told him he had a passion in his eyes. When I asked my bodyguard about it later he said that the man was a sad little guy who just wanted to be loved and he also said he felt sorry for him. This is why I love my bodyguard.

My bodyguard and I had a heart to heart on the bus ride home and he gave me the best advice I have received in a long, long time. Advice that if followed correctly could make me a much happier and receptive person. Basically he told me to let go and I think I will.

Alright, Edward is now off the air and I must leave so I can wake up tomorrow and regret nothing but not drinking enough water before going to bed.

Tip of the Day: Just because doubles are on special doesn't mean that you have to drink them...but your night may be a whole lot more fun if you do.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-11T00:24:00.000-07:00

Day 408

Today I had my second Canadian Thanksgiving dinner. This year was different, this year there were no overbearing Canadian mothers and no getting drunk by 2 pm. This year there was the following:

Yams with marshmallows, ridiculously good and ridiculed for having marshmallows.

Mulled wine, yeah, it's almost reason enough to invest in spices, almost.

A clutch of nerdy gay men who talked about pornos and the infamous "Clippy" character from Microsoft whilst continuously checking their fancy phones and tweeting.

In place of the turkey was salmon. I know that I should be all impressed by this but I really just wanted to eat a dead bird that can ohh so easily contain salmonella.

We didn't go around the table and say what we are thankful for, partly because we didn't eat at a table.

One of our hosts locked me in the bedroom with him to tell me that he's learned how to knit so that he can knit his partner a hat for his birthday. When we walked out everyone looked at us like we'd fucked each other.

There was an apple pie and a pumpkin pie and the woman who made them begged and later demanded praise for them.

The whipped cream was homemade and there was rye whisky in it.

A gorgeous man (who of course is fucking gay) running up the street carrying a ham in oven mitts that (of course) matched his outfit.'

All in all, it was better than last year, or I was just more sober. And I am totally all for replacing a repressing mother-type with a gaggle of gays, it's way more fun.

Tip of the Day: No matter how many roasted edamame you eat they will never be as tasty as salt and vinegar potato chips. Damnit.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-08T00:10:00.001-07:00

Day 406

There is a list on my desk of all the things I should be doing today and I am pretending like it doesn't exist. There was a time today when this wasn't true. I called my dad to find out that I owe the IRS like 500 bucks. I went to the Financial Aid office and found out that my check had still not arrived. I gathered books that I made faculty members donate for the silent auction I am hosting at the Halloween party. I even had a meeting with my advisor who told me two wonderful things: 1. She liked my script that I turned in. 2. She is super amazed at how allegedly productive I am and how by how much I write. To me this meant two things: 1. This was a good excuse for me to use the knowledge that my name literally means, "Industrious one." and, 2. I could take the rest of the day off. So, here are a few things I did on my day off:

-Watched Golden Girls while crocheting. Yeah, I know, I am turning into an old maid.

-Bought a season pass for the show Parenthood and watched 3 episodes in a row. Technically, this is work as I plan to write a spec for this show but really I just needed to be a part of a TV family today.

-Did not show up for one of my jobs. I did however see my co-worker and told her to tell people that I couldn't make it, "Just tell them I am very busy doing nothing."

-Did not go to a birthday party for my friend. Fuck it.

-Read outlines for people's screenplays and was so horribly bored I couldn't keep reading. Seriously, I am starting to think that I can only watch TV from now on, movie are too long.

-Read a book called, "Story" and loved it which reminded me of how I never really change as a person, as a teenager I used to skip class to read books now I just skip life to read books.

-Went to dinner and sat by my absolute favorite nerd in the world. He went on and on about how he was going to invent a version of the game Risk that is based on actual American colonization. I pretty much nodded along and stole his pomegranate seeds.

-And finally I hung out with my neighbor in the new living room I built him. We talked about dentistry and porn and punching security guards in the stomach, in that order.

-Finally, I pretty much just creeped people on Facebook only to find that a friend of mine had her name followed by, "misses Emily." I wrote a comment on it as I was so extremely touched that she wrote a message just for me. It wasn't until now that I realized that I personally know at least 10 other Emilys and my friend is more popular and well-liked than I am perhaps she knows at least 20 Emilys. Maybe I should update the song to, "You're so vain you probably think this Facebook status update is about you..."

-Alright, now I am off to watch an episode of Ab Fab and wish I was more of a bad ass and British.

Tip of the Day: Take the day off, you deserve it.

-Canadian Castaway
-

2010-10-06T22:47:00.000-07:00

Day 405

Today I called my dad and he asked me how school was going. I told him that I was really busy and was having my writing workshopped three times this week. I explained to him, without him asking me to do so, that workshopping is when a roomful of people read your work and then make comments on it and you sit there and listen. After I reminded him that I was speaking to him he retorted, "Well, you don't be a whiny asshole about taking a little criticism. You be nice and listen to what others have to say, okay?" "Dad, I have been doing this for years I can take a little criticism," I said. Then he said, "No--no you can't, you never have been good at it. But you had better take it and not be a whiny asshole. I know you and I know how you are."

A little while later I went to my class and it came my turn for workshop. This is a playwriting class so members of the class took roles and read my play aloud. The reading itself was brilliant. People laughed and the woman who I thought would botch up the role of the split personalities character played it marvelously. And then, I was told the following: the story of it sucks, the characters are cliches, my female characters are demeaning, the ending is shit, and my personal favorite, "The dialogue is outdated."

Later, after I'd grinned through it all and went home to drop my bag off before meeting friends at the bar and trying not to cry like a little bitch troll, I thought about my situation and turns out my dad is right. If the thought that he might be right wasn't enough the fact that I whined all night to my friends about how workshopping sucks and I suck and everything sucks (even though it really doesn't) proves I am a whiny asshole. And, if I keep it up, which according to my father I have been like this since the age of 4 or so, I just may die of annoying myself and having my father in the constant state of being right. Frig.

Sadly and in a way luckily, one of my friend's who I was out with tonight had an allergic reaction to something. This horrific event finally made me realize that all I was doing was bitching all night and the fact that my friend who was seeing spots and nearly passing out was a waaaay bigger deal than what a buncha undergrad kids said about my play in class, despite having laughed their asses off at it. Plus, it was nice to be able to help someone else for a change and she, with her allergic reaction probably gave my friends a way to see me in a new light and to realize that I am not just a whiny asshole, I am a whiny asshole who will do anything to help her friends out when they should need anything.

Tip of the Day: Stay in if you are going to take out your whiny asshole bitch troll-iness out on the people who you care about and who (used to) respect you.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

Day 402

My apologies if you had the misfortune of reading yesterday's shitass attempt at blogging, turns out when you sit around eating Good N Plenty and watching movies all day you can't write very well. Anyway, on with it, I haven't had any Good N Plenty in a few hours.

Today I went to the gigantic Japanese store with my Chinese neighbor. I was super excited and had a great time looking at 2 dollar Japanese crap until...I had to find my friend. Turns out that there were lots of people in the store, lots of Asian people to be exact. Every time I thought I heard my friend speaking it was another woman, and every time I thought I saw her it turned out to be another lady with long black, parted-down-the-middle hair. I was living a white people stereotype nightmare. When I finally found my friend I grabbed her shoulders and said, "The next time we come here you are dying your hair. I don't care which color but it can't be black!"

I went to supper this evening, this doesn't often happen anymore due to work and going out with writers and the fact that I am sick of making small talk. Weirdly though all went well. I sat by a chatty girl from California who I actually quite enjoy and tonight she taught me a very important lesson, a lesson that I will never forget. The lesson is: If someone tells you that they have had gastric bypass surgery do not ask them about the recovery process, especially if you have just eaten a plateful of food or do not enjoy 30 minute stories that aren't that interesting. Frick.

Sidenote: I just asked someone to be my friend on Facebook and had them accept the request within seconds. Wow, looks like I just got a new BFF.

Tip of the Day: If you call your mom and she asks you what you're doing tell her, "Well, I just let loose a loud fart."

-Canadian Castaway

2010-10-02T23:33:00.000-07:00

Day 401

Holy shit, I missed day 400! Well, on day 400 I got my period AND saw my alleged bff bodyguard makeout with an extremely drunk friend of his. This is the same friend he has had a crush on for over a year. Everyone (including myself) told him to go for it. Little did we know he would...in my place of employ, sucking face like a freaky vampire for over an hour at a table that all his friends were sitting a well, they were sitting at until they couldn't take it anymore. I would be a liar if I didn't admit spreading the gossip around this morning but the whole thing is still kinda sick.

Other than that today I ate an amazing beef sandwich, lost my earbuds, and was generally cranky despite having watched Saved! and A Dirty Shame. Tomorrow I am going to a giant Japanese store. The last time I went there there was a rush in the cellphone danglers section. It was so thick with all types of Japanese peeps, including a white-haired man, that I couldn't make it in there. I don't even want a cellphone dangly, but the sheer fact that they are hard to inquire makes me NEED ONE NOW! Hopefully the don't just have the anal bead variety left by the time I elbow my way in.
Aight, I am so frigging tired. I am off to bed to try and not dream about my now ex-bff (he is a hot mess) and the skank he makes out with.

Tip of the Day: Don't watch that third movie, it'll just put you to sleep.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-30T21:32:00.000-07:00

Day 399

Holy shit it's almost been 400 days since I came to Canada and cried at the car rental place. Weird.

Anyway, I must make this quick as I have tons of microfiction to read and edits to be made on my script.

Yesterday's re-cap:

At the beginning of class the extremely flamboyant gay guy told a story about how before every performance his high school drama club used to gather in a room and sniff whatever they could find like all sorts of cleaners and things. He ended the story with, "And then after our performances we would always get such headaches and wonder why." For the remainder of class the teller of this story was called "Sniffer" by the instructor.

I went to my fav coffeeshop to get some work done. When I entered the owner was working and his son was playing nearby with a Thomas train toy. The owner told me two things when I approached the counter: 1. That he wants to kill whoever invented Thomas. and, 2. "Your friend with the long hair is upstairs." Now, I have only been to the coffeeshop WITH my friend along twice and I am pretty sure that the owner would only have been there on one of those occasions, if that. Creepy...look out Thomas creator this guy might be a ninja.

After the coffeeshop I went to the pub to meet my friends. While there I drank beer, almost accidentally made out with a friend of mine, punched another friend every time he coughed, narrowly escaped a poetry slam, made fun of a frat boy to his face, and got elbowed in the boob, twice. All in all it was a pretty dull and tame evening.

Oh and later my brother tried to Skype call me when I was watching an orgy scene from Shortbus.
Today:

Today I went to turn in an assignment and wound up talking to the secretary of my department who gave me a half hour long history lecture on all of the parties and fundraising events she has been a part of during her like 30 years of employ. It was pretty interesting but I couldn't stop staring at her lipstick and wondering if it rubs off easily and what the fuck brand would make a shade like that and how much did she pay for it.

This afternoon my friend in the program was to give a lecture to the undergrad class she TAs for and I went along. I wanted to support her and I wanted to know what the undergrad writing courses are like at this university as I will be a TA in the spring. When I got there I realized that there were like 200 people in that class. The university I went to for my undergrad had at most, 25 per class and at least one of them was sleeping through the whole class. My friend did quite well but the worst part I would imagine for my friend giving the lecture would be the fact that the other TAs gossiped throughout it and one of them doesn't know how to whisper. Fuck, I don't know if I could handle that.

While walking home from the undergrad course I stumbled into a friend of mine who was going to buy the exact same shoes I want to buy. I tagged along with her and when we got to the store I found out that they didn't have any shoes in my size. It's one thing to be too fat and unable to shop at regular clothing stores (me), you can change that, but to be rejected based on your feet being too big is like being slapped in the face if you already had a broken cheekbone.

When I asked the woman at the store, "What does women's size 11 transfer to in European sizes?" She said, "42, but we don't go that high in this store." I was so irate that I threatened to my friend knock over boxes and got really huffy and thought, "Even if you had shoes that fit me in this shithole I wouldn't buy them here." On the bus ride home my friend brought up my angry attitude. I said, "That woman was a total cunt." My friend said, "She tried to help you, she offered to order you shoes to be delivered to the store." Instead of admitting that I was a little wrong about her my response, "I still hate that stupid cunt."

Despite having tons of things to do I spent the majority of my evening looking up the Hollywood hotties I used to buy shitty teen magazines to look at when I was a pre-teen (this was an era before the freakish "tween" word). Turns out that JTT and Devon Sawa are both Virgos. I wish there were some sort of career path I could take that would pay me to know things like that.

Tip of the Day: Chai tea isn't that bad.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-29T00:36:00.000-07:00

Day 397

I didn't write yesterday, here is a sampling of why: I yelled at my best friend who didn't deserve it, I fought with my mother and I found out that the only thing worse than waiting on drunken undergrads all night is not having a single table and making no tips but still having to be around drunken undergrads all night. Anyway, on to today...

Today was one of those days when I did tons of things in a scheduled fashion. Here is a very brief run down:

-First stop was the faculty meeting which was hilarious due to the head of the department telling the secretary to stop taking notes at times when he was saying things that were questionable.

-The next stop was the clinic for a dermatology appointment. The dermatologist showed up super late and the whole time before she came I was sitting there thinking how I wanted to eat lunch with my friend and how when the dermatologist FINALLY arrived and walked in saying, "How are you?" I would answer, "Exhausted from waiting for you." But, when she arrived and asked me all I said was, "I'm good." I even said it in a cheery voice too. Ugh.

-I went to lunch with two of my friends today and we were all sitting outside chatting when at the exact same moment three bees showed up and went, one per person to buzz around. We all jumped up and even thought about moving to another location. What we didn't think was how ridiculous we were for letting tiny insects dictate where we had lunch.

-After lunch I went to class and was completely bored. Turns out that when you have one class that is full of lively people who think they are clever and are constantly cracking jokes any other class seems horribly borish.

-Just before I had to leave for work at the pub I had a little time to myself. I emailed a script outline and then, with only one hour remaining to myself watched Family Guy AND Golden Girls. Thank you TV Gods for putting two of my fav shows on just at the hour of my need.

-Tonight at work I realized that being a bitch comes with it's perks. For example, I said one thing that could've been mistaken as cunty to a co-worker (known table hog) and she wouldn't speak to me the entire evening. This was the best thing that could've happened. When I went around later she was asking everyone in sight stupid questions like, "What are these glasses for? Champagne?"

-After work I went to the upstairs of the pub and saw creepy life-sized portraits of the people who built the building the pub is located in and are now long dead. Earlier in the evening we had talks of the building being haunted and got freaked out. The pictures didn't help anything. Then, just as I was a few blocks away on an abandoned street, a huge truck approached me it sounded like a hellish monster and when it slowly passed me I noticed that it was covered in skulls. I guess waving to the portraits of the dead people in a "We cool?" fashion earlier was answered, "We not cool."

Weird moment: Later, while watching The Simpsons, I found myself bored. Family Guy has rotted my attention span, or is it superior in some way?

I just saw a commercial for a phone line dating service which showcased women in their jobs and then the same women in their sexy bra and panty sets. Do any women who aren't lesbians ever call this hotline? Hahaha, HOTline.

Anyway, that's all I got.

Tip of the Day: Saltine crackers are no substitute for KitKat bars.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

Day 395

I am watching Christina Aguilera's Behind the Music. I forgot how much I liked her when I was growing up. I don't know what the fuck she was thinking with that obnoxious nose ring but damn she can sing.

Okay so now I just put on a diva concert in my room despite me having a cold I sang loud and proud. For a little while though I held back scared that people may hear me. Then I realized that I don't really care if the people in my building judge me or like me and I kept on singing. I wonder if Janis rubbed off on me. Let's hope that she did but not so much that I kill myself with booze and drugs.

I worked a table at a writer's festival today. A girl that is on the flag football team also showed up. I don't know her very well so I started making conversation with her. Apparently, she doesn't understand sarcasm or hates to laugh. Frankly, I don't really care to find out which, if only I didn't have to play football with her...perhaps, I should start to enjoy the awkward, judgemental gazes...

That's really all I've got...until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: Japanese hotdogs = overrated and overpriced.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-26T02:00:00.001-07:00

Day 394

So, I am hacking up a lung here and tired so I will make this super brief:

Woke up watched Kids in the Hall (Canadian duty) and then went to the bank and to the drugstore because as soon as my mother hears that I am sick she commands me to go and purchase many types drugs. As soon as I exited the drugstore I ripped open the box containing my Robitussin knock-off. Turns out that it doesn't come with a measuring cup--I am going to blame this on it being Canadian. I took a couple swigs from the bottle right outside the store, like a drug addict. Later my mother told me I need to get cough syrup laced with Codeine. Who's the drug addict now?

I finished another script today (could've been due to the Robo-tripping).

Went to my pal's house to eat mac and cheese which also involved drinking a bottle of red and having my tarot cards read to me. Turns out that I am super creative and original and am paving new ways and I will be selfish and have creativity and this, if I let it, will let me take over the world.

Went to a party at my friend's new house. Here are a few things that happened at said party:

-Found out that guys who wear shirts that read, "Mr. Happy" on them are douche bags.

-In other news guys who think they know everything about tarot are also douche bags.

-My friend from high school came to the party. Her roomate looks like she could kill me and I forgot to tell them the party was BYOB. Frig.

-When I drank from the bottle of my Robitussin at the party I yelled, "Don't judge me!" to a whole bunch of strangers.

-Found out that guys from the Yukon Territory are hot and hardcore. It gets to -56 degrees there.

-A girl in a top hat gave me a Sharpie tattoo of a heart with a "Mother" banner on it which I thought looked super cool until no one could read the "Mother" inscription and I realized that I was showcasing around my upper arm fat.

-If your Chinese friend isn't feeling good don't make racist jokes.

Then my friend and I waited for forty minutes for a bus with a guy who looked like Jesus. We were staring into the windows of a congee restaurant, until they pulled the blinds on us.

Later, I met a friend of mine on the bus. Turns out she was going to a booty call. I told her, "Good luck" when she got off the bus.

Tip of the Day: The "Take every six hours" label is obviously for pussies.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-25T01:07:00.000-07:00

Day 393

I would write a blog entry about today except it would be so friggin boring it'd be all like:

I woke up, still sick, perhaps even sicker. I didn't do much at all except lie around and read short short stories and act like an asshole to my brother on Skype. Went to work and waited on people trying to half-ass pretend like I wasn't probably infecting strangers with my illness. Fuck that, they are stupid enough to pay me to do so. I waited on a creeper couple who tipped me ridiculously well despite me recoiling every time I went near them. I wondered for awhile why the bus boy kept asking me if I was okay. Finally I asked him, "Why the fuck do you keep asking me that like I am an insane person?" His response, "Wait, you're not insane?" Then I hung out with my friends who had been drinking at the bar since 3 pm. One of which was being aggressively picked up by a young blonde boy with longish hair. When he told me he studied biology my response, "I've never heard of that, is that like some sort of emo band?" I went to hit on the security guard and he said, "What's your name again? Evelyn?" Then I left which has now lead me to sitting in front of the TV pretending that Craig Ferguson is my boyfriend and wondering if Jason Schwartzman got married just to piss me off.

Tip of the Day: Why the fuckle is Craig Ferguson orange like an Oom Paa Loompa?

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

Day 392

So for the past few days I was torn about what I should do regarding today. I was scheduled to work AND there was the first reading of the reading series for my program. Where am I right now? Home watching Gene Simmons Family Jewels.

This morning I woke up...at 4 am. My throat was so sore I couldn't go back to sleep and so was forced to watch two episodes of 19 Kids and Counting. I woke up awhile later to the scratchiest throat I have had in years. I turned on my computer to get the number to the clinic and I found an email from my department secretary bitching at me about dirty dishes. I went to the clinic only to find that the strep test I took cannot be put through the lab until Monday. So I guess they just want me to spread the disease around a little.

I called in to work and went to wash dishes. When the people in my program caught a look of me they washed their own dishes without me even telling them that I may have strep. I went home and did some edits, dropped a class and watched tons of 30 Rock while sucking on a bagful of Fishermen's Friend lozenges. In the end I decided to not go to the reading. This decision was reached based sheerly on the number of TV shows and movies I have seen in my life where the main character calls in sick to work and is found out. Well, that coupled with the rain and my innate laziness that I am pretty sure is genetic.

I've pretty much just sat around slurping up tea and blowing my nose. There was a brief interlude where I went to dinner. There was a guest speaker in my building today and he came to dinner and made an announcement of his talk that was to happen after dinner. He said that your only excuse for not showing up was showing a doctor's note. Normally, I would've thought this ridiculous except today I actually got a doctor's note. The other positive about being sick was that when the guy I don't like and I were the only ones left sitting at the table I just pretended like I couldn't talk at all.

But, as always, my mother trumped me. I called her work to speak to her as she is stuck there due to massive flooding. Serves me right for wanting to whine and complain about a pussy head cold. I mean it's my own fault I only bought Fisherman's Friend instead of Ny-Quil, it's not her fault that her old folks home may be swept away while she is napping on her desk.

My neighbor just came by with a fresh box of Kleenexes for me. She also informed me that she wasn't going to move into the large handi-cap room in my building that recently became available. Her reason as to why, "I can't move into that handi-cap room anymore because they got a new gimp." Later she admitted that no matter how nice "the new gimp" turns out to be she will still hate them.

Tip of the Day: When in doubt ALWAYS buy the Ny-Quil.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

Day 391

This morning I woke up at 8 am. I was nervous for the meeting I was supposed to conduct on the behalf of the student association. The meeting went okay but the best part (besides the free snacks) was the fact that my favorite overzealous undergrad showed up. Not only is she amazingly excited she also brought cookies that she had baked herself when I didn't even ask her to bring anything. If she continues to show up I will never have to worry because no matter what happens at the meetings or how many people don't come I will always have one person who is excited to be there and be involved. But shit, what if she changes her mind...who knew I'd worry about 19 year olds ditching me.

My friend strolled into class today all glowing with happiness. Turns out that the guy she picked up in the gay bar when she was drunk turned out to be straight AND cute (despite her not remembering what he looked like). They had a wonderful time out last night. He actually articulated that he liked being around her and they had a sweet goodnight kiss. The entire time she was telling the story and sparkling in the afterglow of things that didn't for once happen in a shit-ish fashion I was super jealous and pissed off that she had a good date. A few minutes later I realized how ridiculous my jealousy was and told her how happy I am for her. I seriously am. But damn, for those few minutes I understood why people sometimes call me a bitch, and mean it.

Umm, so today I went to the bar with one of my professors and some people from my playwriting class. After a little while one of the people in our group said, "Hey! Look over there, it's a rat! And it looks like it's drunk!" We all turned to see the rat and laughed as it shook and stumbled around. A few minutes later we looked and the rat was dead.

A little while went by and we noticed the rat was gone. A couple of us at the table were rejoicing in the fact that it was still alive...until another at the table said, "No, the staff came and put it in a garbage bag." But, when all looked bleak a raccoon walked by and in some odd this-is-why-I-am-a-writer-to-justify-my-weird-thoughts-way I took it as a personal metaphor. The metaphor being I was a rat and now I am a raccoon and since I am an American the change in size alone means that I have upgraded to a new status. Weird, I know, but somehow I am not satisfied with the, "I went to the bar and there was a rat that died" story.

Tip of the Day: "Nothing will come of nothing." Fucking King Lear was right, do something.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-21T22:19:00.000-07:00

Day 390

You know you watch too much TV when you notice that the sandwiches on the far table in the McDonald's commercial are sitting directly on the table. Gross. Seriously? How unrealistic, I mean if you are only getting paid like 5 dollars an hour to wait on cheap teenagers and angry fat people would you care enough to wash the tables?

Today I noticed that a friend of mine started a blog after I suggested he start a blog. I wonder if this is my super power. Wouldn't that be crazy? The only catch though (at least regarding today's super power use) was that I know that the person I had start a blog today wrote in the second sentence of his new blog that he hoped his blog wouldn't turn into a "whiny angst fest." Naturally, I liked his snarky observation until I realized that he reads this blog and could very well have been defining the entire genre of my own blog. Or, perhaps I should be happy because maybe he'd let me retitle my blog to: Whiny Angst Fest. Hmm...

Just saw an ad for beer whose slogan reads, "Hold True." What the fuck does that mean? And furthermore, what the fuck does that have to do with beer? Oh and also, while I am at it, what the fuck is up with the new Skittles commercial? Seriously? The Midas Touch was a fictional curse to make Midas not so fracking greedy and to make him learn that there is so much more to life than wealth. I guess the Skittles commercial does make sense if you think of it that way. There is so much more to life than Skittles. (sort of)

There is a team in my flag football league named, "Touchdown my Pants." Shit, I hope they aren't a slutty sorority. I don't want to get an STD from the contact. Ohh wait, I am playing shitty flag football. I bet they have slutty flags though...

Tip of the Day: Listening to Natalie Imbruglia's Torn song when you are torn about what to do doesn't help anything.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-21T02:10:00.000-07:00

Day 389

I am never one to complain but here are just a couple reasons why today sucked:

-I woke out of a dead sleep and never quite gained consciousness.

-I tried to write and all I could do was write a scene heading to a script and stare at it and look at different formats and then delete everything.

-My favorite lady who works at my deli was moving VERY slowly today and may be sick. :(

-I finally got around to vacuuming my room and the vacuum went missing.

-The writers in my program also seemed braindead today and just when I was okay with me doing nothing a mouthy first year showed up and wouldn't shut up about how jogging is freedom and I realized I was wasting my life.

-They didn't have the books I want to read at the library.

-I had to wait on drunken 19 year olds and remember that I need to work harder at writing because I don't want to wait on drunken 19 year olds anymore.

-The Indian security dude I am in love with pretty much told me that I am a fuck up at my job today. And the dumb security guard who thinks he's an ultimate fighter gave me gum and then bitched about how he has to take a cab home tonight.

-The 21 year old I'd like to fool around with has a girlfriend. Although the story he told me about how his girlfriend is outta town and he was beating off to porn when the dad of his roommate was staying at their house was pretty awesome. Especially when the next day the father of his roommate asked if there had been a gang bang the night before.

-And worst of all my mother told me that she is soooo proud of me. Proud of what? A fuck up with a dirty floor who is sinking massively in debt and feels sorry for herself sometimes when she knows better? Wow Ma, I wonder if there is too much Paxil in your Paxil. But damn her saying that was the closest thing I could get to a hug and I'll take it. Tomorrow I will do whatever it takes to make her declaration of pride hold up.

Tip of the Day: Ugh.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-19T21:30:00.000-07:00

Day 388

You know you are a writer when...you go to your favorite space to write and realize that it is completely full then you walk 13 blocks peeping your head in other, mediocre coffeeshops looking for a place you can work in. You reject seven coffee places for the size of the crowds, how they smell, the types of people that are in them and the fact that they have round NOT square-shaped tables. Then, when you finally find a spot you do everything you can think of (check emails, visit with friends, text people, Facebook) until the only thing left is for you to write.

I have never been an athlete. The closest I have gotten was when I joined the softball team. This pretty much consisted of listening to punk on a Discman and eating Ranch-flavored sunflower seeds. But today after I left the coffeeshop I went ot the drugstore to get some Gatorade and licorice ropes to share with my friend at her flag football practice. I thought I try out for team manager or maybe take the water girl position. I showed up in jeans, with a licorice rope hanging out of my mouth and chatting on my cellphone. Before long I was running plays with the team, yeah I was running. Weird, huh? Who knew it was my calling to play flag football? I wonder if this means I will have to learn what a first down means. I also wonder if I can still eat Ranch-flavored sunflower seeds while listening to Me First and the Gimme Gimmes.

Turns out the creepy guy who came up to me and my friend at dinner lives in my hallway. Perhaps I will use tell the hot Indian security guard at work that I don't feel safe alone...or, perhaps I will sit in my room and wonder if the creeper remembers which room I live in and wonder if he will one day knock and I will pretend like I am not home or fake a tough guy voice so he thinks I have a ferocious boyfriend. Gawd, I hope the Indian guy thing works out.

I am watching Camp Nowhere and wondering what the fuck is up with Christopher Lloyd. Why the fuck does he play the older creeper man who helps out young boys. Wouldn't you feel weird if you were him? Wouldn't you wonder if you were typecast?

Tip of the Day: Don't drink mate late at night.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-19T13:40:00.000-07:00

Day 387

The internet died at my house late last night and I was hoping it would revive but have had no such luck. I did write a bit of a blog before I gave up and went to bed without so much as seeing if I have any new friend requests so, without further bitchery, here is the blurb from last night:

A few lessons learned from today:

-If you get lost on the way to your friend's house just pop off at another friend's house and you will get there in time for his boyfriend to come out of the bedroom wearing white and your friend will take one look at him and say, "Umm, you are not wearing white."

-If you get invited to a comedy show that takes place in the basement of a hotel and when you walk into the club they are playing Ke$ha you should not be curious and think, "Wow, this could get interesting..." The comedy may be alright but the fact that they don't allow the sexily-dressed servers serve people a glass of water because they want you to spend three dollars to buy a bottle of water and the fact that they blast deafening music the second the headliner is off the stage so that you leave and leave angry should keep you away. No wonder there were like 10 security guards there at the ready—to break up fights that arise from the worst guitar noise coupled with hemorrhoids and dehydration. Going to a comedy show is like going on survivor.

-Turns out that the people in doorways that I gave icy fuck you looks to out of fear when I was walking to the bus stop tonight weren’t actually creepers, they were hiding out from the rain. All that paranoia and I haven’t even smoked weed in years.

-One of the comedians I saw tonight was a cute Jewish guy from New York (p.s. I think ALL Jewish guys are cute). When I got home I went on Facebook and looked him up. I wrote him a personal message stating that we are both from the same home state. I knew this because I peeped his profile, not because I actually talked to him. I love social networking. I mean what did we do before Facebook was around to stalk strangers and profess our love to them? Did we actually have to talk to people in person or live in regret of having not spoken to our potential love interests? Shitty.

Tip of the Day: Ask your friends for an umbrella if you are visiting them and it is raining outside because it would be bad form for them to NOT give one to you.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-18T01:14:00.000-07:00

Day 386

Okay, I am ready to pass out. I am probably going to actually take a break from the blog today and go to bed and hope to dream of John Stamos. Besides, me talking about waiting tables, meeting friends at McDonalds, going to the bar and walking home weren't really all that exciting.

Oh, there was one hilarious thing. A co-worker of mine at the bar said that me and my co-worker looked at a pair of lesbian hair-cutted women. My friend conceded to her hair looking lesbian-ish and then remarked, "But what is lesbian-y about Emily's hair?" The bartender looked me over and declared, "The bangs." My friend and I both thought the idea of lesbian bangs was ridiculous. Later the writers came in and I went to greet my friends including a mostly lesbian writer who guess what...has the same bangs. I have mostly lesbian bangs.

Until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: Don't start watching Property Virgins it will make you feel like a horribly boring person and you cannot stop.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-17T00:56:00.000-07:00

Day 385

I suck at taking a break from this blog. Just a few things from today...

-This morning was pretty much spent writing a short/sketch-esque play. This involved me doing my laundry and drinking tons of coffee in a dark room and laughing.

-I was invited to speak on behalf of the student association at the new mfa student orientation not only was I so bored that I started passing notes and interjecting comments to say awake it turns out that the emails the grad secretary sent regarding what the association is never got to the new students. If that wasn't bad enough the new students didn't get any of her emails including important scholarship. The students now have one less week to acquire funding but at least there was pizza at the party.

-I hate how Facebook chat automatically says that I am available to chat when I first log in. I never notice that it even turns itself on until I get a message from someone I don't really want to talk to. I guess that is the social aspect of social networking. Geez, I think I'd rather be anti-social.

-Tonight my friend came over and while we were talking I turned on my computer. After a few minutes I realized that my computer didn't start up right and had error messages. My friend came over and peered at it and said, "Well, you back all your writing up don't you? You don't have anything to worry about." She looked at me and there was a pause. "What?! You don't back anything up?" "Well, I don't have an external hard drive and I need one and I am getting one as soon as my student loan comes in and..." She pointed to the USB zip drive-y thing near my computer and said, "Why don't you just put stuff on there?" I didn't really have an answer for that.

-I was hanging out with two other women for awhile this evening and I realized that we were all associated as the women our gay male friend hangs out with. I designated one of them his wife, the other his mistress and myself his homegirl that he may or may not have dated. The "wife" character said, "I don't know how I feel about being cast as the wife." Then I said, "What? Why? There ARE people who are happily married you know." She said, "But you just said there was a mistress. So, why uhh--" and that is the point where I stopped listening and started thinking about her relationship and why she will never be happily married to her current boyfriend and it made me sad.

I popped by my place of employment tonight to see a few friends. Little did I realize that this meant I would be forced to encounter both men I have a crush on currently. Turns out the security guard is 23 years old. I would feel like he may be a little young except for the fact that the other idiot I am chasing around his 21. I wonder if there is some sort of cougar-in-training badge I should be wearing?

Tip of the Day: Don't quit your blog.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-15T23:11:00.000-07:00

Day 384

I have some horrid news. Turns out that this year in school I actually have to work hard. It's not like I am in high school anymore and can skip classes to read and still get above average grades. No, I have a thesis to write which means at least two more episodes of shows, a short film script due, and a one act play along with five jobs. I may have to start doing cocaine just to get it all done but with five jobs I still need to take out a student loan to just get by so I guess acquiring an expensive drug habit is out. So, unfortunately I may have to cut back on blogging. I still hope to update things a few times a week with nasty remarks and observations. I mean shit, it's not like I am going to totally change who I am.

I was in a funk today. I went to a class with a friend of mine and was hoping she'd cheer me up. She gave her take of my state of being in a play by play version of what she thought my mood was. Her predictions went something like, "You are like manic today, aren't you?" And then there were periods of her just putting her hand on my arm and looking into my eyes as though to say, "It's all going to be okay." At first I blamed the weather for my mood but I am starting to think being told you are pissed off all day actually makes you pissed off. I think I need to make a few new friends, the kind that would say, "You are wonderfully confident and happy today."

Tonight I went to a film class. My very first film class to be exact. It's about producing for film and television. There were people with all sorts of backgrounds there. There was the non-stop talking theatre girl who claimed to be ohh so good at getting people to be creative. Maybe she didn't shut up long enough to realize that she wasn't letting them be creative. There was the rich kid who lived in Hollywood who may or may not be a douche but he sure is cute. There was the nerdy dude in the Zelda t-shirt who over-enunciated words. There was even a guy who has a list of directing gigs from the past few decades including working with the famous Coreys.

My favorite classmate though was the Chinese guy who said the words, "I was electrocuted and almost died. But, I survived." Then he said that he had a film that he worked on coming out tomorrow at an art gallery and he declared that he should've brought flyers to hand out. He dug around in his sleeves and produced flyers like magicians pull rabbits from hats. He gave a speech about how in ancient China people wore garments with huge sleeves so they could carry stuff in them. He then went into evidence through elementary physics about why carrying a backpack is bad for you. Later, another student made a comment about needing a beer. And, like magic, the Chinese student produced a beer from his sleeve. I went up to the teacher that I had earlier told I may not stay in the class due to my heavy course load and declared, "If that guy is going to be pulling stuff of his sleeves then I am staying in. I am all in."

I just found an episode of Cheers on that I haven't seen before. It's like being given a giftcard for happiness. When I was a kid and I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up (shut up, I know I've told this story a million times) instead of saying, "I want to be an astronaut or a veterinarian" I said, "I want to be happy." What I should've said was, "I want to be a 26 year old who is happy about seeing episodes of an old TV show."

Tip of the Day: Do what makes you happy. Who needs veterinarians.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-14T23:41:00.000-07:00

Day 383

I just got distracted by A Streetcar Named Desire. I didn't realize how late it was getting so I must make this brief.

I went to class today and remembered that workshopping sometimes sucks. It especially sucks when you are talking on and on about someones work AND they are allowed to join in on the conversation. I suppose it is a weird practice to talk about people's work while they are in the room and pretend they aren't there but I don't know if listening to them explain all of the shit we didn't understand about their piece is any better.

I went to a birthday party this evening and met a boyfriend of a friend of mine for the first time. I was wondering why the hell he was so quiet and strange. When my friend and I were waiting for the bus she said she sort of felt he was acting the same way. I asked her why she thought he was acting like that and she said that it could've been because we had been sitting on either side of him text messaging each other about him and laughing. Why didn't I think of that?

So, I am going to bed to dream of tall, muscular Indian security guards who can cook and when you ask them if they are strong and pretend to make muscles at them they reply, "Only if I have to be." I will try to suck less tomorrow and write more that is unless of course dreams really do come true and I am whisked away by a tall, muscular Indian security guard.

Tip of the Day: Don't tell a Canadian you could never become Canadian unless you want to answer their questions about why not for an hour especially if the Canadian is from Quebec and doesn't really understand English.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-13T21:43:00.000-07:00

Day 382

My day started early, very early. I was up on and off all night long due to my friend moving around on the airbed next to my own bed. It is a terribly uncomfortable bed when it partially deflates in the night. Anyway, we ended up waking up (giving up on going back to sleep, in my case) an hour early. When we got up I couldn't even put on a smile or say more than a few words. And, it turns out that two cups of coffee couldn't combat that sort of bitchy tiredness. When some girl I didn't know didn't figure out how to open the waffle iron to make it stop beeping I said, "Open it up you dumb bitch." The worst part is that I didn't even realize I said it until a guy at the next table over whipped around and gave me a shocked look.

I had to go to a doctor appointment today and when I walked in I declared what skin condition I thought I had due to my research on the internet. At first I thought I was helping out by making my own diagnosis but then I thought it over. How annoying would it be to have some no-talent hack come in and declare that they know exactly how to do your job because they did like 15 minutes worth of internet research to make it seem like they know just as much as your 8 years in med school gave you. I woulda slapped me.

I went to the financial aid office today. I have been avoiding this office for about a week now. But damn do I need some money. The last couple of times I went in there I stood at the end of a long line that didn't move and then got bored and left. This time I waited and waited and waited, while I waited I tried to position myself to be looking at the gorgeous man behind me in line. It was all wonderful (even though I had to wait for 45 minutes in line). What I realize now is that if I didn't have my headphones in the entire time maybe I couldn't actually got to know the extremely good looking man in line behind me. But, luckily I did have them in because listening to music calmed me down while I was waiting and helped me to not slap the woman who was trying to help me with the financial aid process in the SLOWEST way possible when I finally made it to the counter.

After the doctor appointment I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up a few things and when I got up to the cute Jewish pharmacist (I have a thing for Jewish men) I declared what I needed and he sort of cowered. At first I thought this was because he liked me too but later I realized it was because I was way to assertive. I wonder if there are classes available on how to pick up Jewish pharmacists. That is what they should teach in school.

I went to work this afternoon and by the time I left tonight it felt like I had worked for three days straight. But, I did get to flirt. First off I flirted with the 21 year old. He and I exchanged insults and eye contact. Later the security guys came on the clock. Usually they are just fun to look at but tonight I met one that was not only gorgeous he was also kind and smart and level-headed. He even had some curry that he had made in the back and I asked what it was and he offered me some. He was eating it with bread. So, I took a hunk of the bread and he said, "You can have some bread from the side I didn't bite off of if you want." I said, "Do you have some sort of weird disease or something?" And he laughed and denied that he did. Plus, the curry was good. I think I am in love, hopefully I don't have some sort of weird disease or any disease that I could read about on the internet.

Tip of the Day: Go to bed.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-12T20:36:00.000-07:00

Day 381

There are a few things I never thought I'd say in this life. There are a few things that I couldn't even imagine saying and, "Okay, I am gonna admit that I was late because I was reading King Lear" wasn't one of them. Yeah that's right, I had to read Shakespeare this morning when I was hungover. At first I was pissed off at the vague language and having to keep one finger in the text and the other in the explanatory footnotes, but when I started to see the characters and plots he was setting up I couldn't help but think how scandalous they must have been back in the day. A king turns nutso and his daughters renounce him and a bastard son stands up for himself by blackmailing his father and brother. Wow. That shit was the equivalent of showing someone get their friggin anus pierced on stage. Shakespeare is pretty fucking amazing even if you are hungover and too stupid to understand half the words he's using.

Today marks the day that I reunited with my food buddy/confidant. She flew here from many hours away, allegedly to see other people than just me but fuck that I know the truth. One of the best parts about her visiting is that she brought snacks. The snacks were amazing and so was her laughter at me trying to read Icelandic packaging. She thinks I should get my own youtube channel. I think she might be onto something. Anyway, she is down in my room right now laying on a partially deflated air mattress in front of the TV with the remnants of snacks around her and I am going to roustle her into playing this lame Monopoly card game with me so I must make this brief, let alone the fact that I am occupying a secret space in my building that has a kamikaze moth in it and a mysterious flea-like white bug. Perhaps if I caught the bugs in here I could start an insect circus...

Anyway, we watched the Video Music Awards together. A few observations:

Chelsea Handler asks Justin Bieber if he was wearing a wig, I wish I could show that to EVERY person I meet and if they don't laugh I will know that we are NOT going to be friends. It would save me a ton of time.

Umm, I hate to admit it but Taylor Swift can sing. AND she can sing a beautiful song about Kanye. But I really wonder if all is forgiven? I also wonder if last year after the VMAs if Taylor thought Kanye's interruption was hilarious or devastating. I would hope she thought it was hilarious.

I love that I am so out of touch with anything that isn't Lady Gaga or Drake-related and I watched the show with a friend of mine that can even tell you who discovered whom and who cheated on who with who. Shit, I am not even sure how to use who or whom properly. Can you imagine me watching the show with her and asking, "Who is that?" "Who is that?" "What award is that?" "Who is that?"

And finally, I am going to share a fact about my personal day-to-day existence: Everyday I wake up and listen to Bad Romance. Everyday. Seriously. So, when Gaga won that first award and announced that all her little monsters and her were the cool kids today I teared up and couldn't breathe and had I watched the show alone I would've balled. Who knew that being a cool kid for a night would make you want to ball.

And Kanye...well, I feel the same way. I am a douche bag too most of the time (except when I am listening to my daily Gaga fix) and I truly believe that everyone (even Taylor Swift) is a douche bag so his new tune is an anthem for the world. Plus, he wore a red suit. If that doesn't do it for you, how can you not like a song that has the words "jerk off" in it?

Okay, so I think I am going to go back to my room now and see if there are any unpronounceable snacks left.

Tip of the Day: Don't ever put yourself into the position of eating a fifth cookie.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-12T02:40:00.000-07:00

Day 380

I am already hungover and it's nearly 3 am. So here are a few brief things:

I hung around and wrote scenes all day. This would've been okay except that I drank so much freaking coffee that I was jumping around my room in between writings to clean and by clean I mean cleaning like sorting out my nickels from my pennies kind of freak cleaning.

My friend and I grabbed a quick beer at a brewery and sat next to a couple that was obviously on a first date. The ordered a flight of beer and with his arm draped over her chair he went on and on about each beer saying things like, "this one is more of a showcase beer..." Later he said, "I watch Oprah, everyday." Then there was a pause that he quickly interrupted with, "But, I do watching action movies." Then he went on to give her tips about how to make the most of her workout. I wonder if he's getting a second date.

Went out to a Fringe Fest show. This show made me think I have brain damage as the male lead had brain damage. The show also had a PowerPoint aspect to it and for the first time in my life EVER a PowerPoint presentation wasn't boring. It turns out the secret to making a non-boring PowerPoint is to incorporate into it a HORRIBLE amateur rap video where a kid strokes his crotch while another kid sings. In other words the show was AMAZING except for the part at the beginning when a guy from the festival got up on stage and pretty much demanded that the audience give even more money to the festival and promptly sent around women in chef hats to pass around rubber chicken baskets like we were in church. In a way though I guess we were.

Other than that I went to a writer party that turned out to be only half writers. The other half was gay men. Later I found out that not only was the prettiest gay man a good kisser (word of mouth (hee hee hee)) he had kissed nearly all of the gay men at the party. Later me and my friend whose 7th anniversary we were celebrating sat and watched a couple who is truly in love gently paw each other. We both went on and on about how wonderful it is that they have found each other. Then my friend abruptly turned to me and said, "You'll find that someday." I should've had him guarantee it somehow.

Okay so I am so friggin tired and already hungover I am going to bed. That is all until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: Hard cider is not always a good idea.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-11T00:39:00.000-07:00

Day 379

I have been avoiding meeting new people in my building. By avoiding I mean not going to orientation-y events or going out of my way. But, this morning, I sat next to a new guy from my building. Not only did he make pterodactyl noises he also ate an entire breakfast and then went back up to get two muffins which he dipped in peanut butter (btw, when he realized on of them was carrot he quit eating it, I am pretty sure he hates vegetables). After he ate the muffins he went back up and got a bagel that dripped jelly all over the table. He also has the longest name I have ever seen. He smokes--a ton. And, he is flaming. Guess I made a new BFF.

Let's see...what else happened today? I went to work at the pub and got yelled at by the boss man. Then, after I was like, 'What the hell?' to all the employees he came and apologized to me and kept apologizing to me all day. I don't mind getting yelled at a little if it means that I will spend the rest of my day getting doted on. At least I'm not the one who did the senseless yelling...for once.

This evening I spoke with my mother on the phone. I think it's hilarious that every time I talk to her she is the one to say, "Okay, well I have to get going now." Anyway, before she ditched me she read me my fall horoscope. Apparently, I am going to find love between September 14th and October 28th. Another major topic was her upcoming (in friggin March) birthday. I suggested a bouncy room and a petting zoo. She seemed more worried about having enough margarita buckets and beers. At least we can both agree on the Taco wagon and cake ideas.

I caved today. I ate the damn chicken dip. The chicken dip is basically breaded chicken breasts cut into fish stick shapes, covered in cheap cheese, and drenched in honey mustard. I didn't even realize that my consumption of the chicken dips had gotten out of control until the guy at the coffeeshop I frequent (the home of the chicken dip) saw me one day a couple weeks ago and said, "Chicken dip?" The guy doesn't even know my name. Today I went in to find him working. It's been a couple chicken dip-less weeks so I thought he'd forgotten about my addiction. I asked him, "What am I having?" He pointed to the chicken dip. I said, "Yes, but it's been a long time, right? I haven't had a chicken dip for like two weeks now." "You deserve it," he said. I need to quit hanging around places with enablers like that.

I have just completed an experiment. Result: It doesn't matter if I only see the last few minutes of Extreme Home Makeover I still tear up. If there was ever a person who truly believes I am a heartless bitch only needs to see me ball my face off watching television.

Tip of the Day: Watching That 70s show will not improve the quality of your life.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-09T21:51:00.000-07:00

Day 378

This morning I was ridiculously productive. The only errand I didn't complete was the one that involved me waiting for over an hour in a line to find out that my US loan hadn't come through, I didn't think I needed to bother with that news yet. I got keys and went to the bank and set up direct deposits and bought books and visited my bodyguard's new place. From there he and I went for lunch where I told him I have so many jobs because I am cute. His response, "You are cute." And, he gave me a box of Darjeeling tea. I love my bodyguard. How the frakload did I live without him for four months?

Tonight I avoided going to another dreaded formal dinner. Formal dinner, as I understand it, is a whole lot of people getting dressed up and eating dinner that contains more seafood than usual while having to listen to speeches. The part that kills me though is that it is served buffet-style. I mean seriously? You want to have a fancy dinner and act like it's Old Country Buffet. Weird. There is no Old Country Buffet here. I bet it's because there are no cheap fat people here which would also explain why there is no Wal-mart and why there is an overabundance of yoga studios. Hmm...

Anyway, this next section I'd like to title: How I wasted 4 hours of my life not listening to speeches at a fancy dinner:

-Went out and ate a pita sandwich that had so much mustard in it that I thought I was going to be sick.

-Went to the library and realized that it was too quiet to be in. I put my bag down on a table and got a dirty look.

-Decided that if I ever make money I want to start a Family Guy channel so I don't have to worry about whether or not it will be on.

-Did some emailing and letter drafting. I am a very important lady, you know. I am even called "HBIC" Translation: Head Bitch in Charge.

-Invited the guy who I saw in a nightdress to be on gmail chat with me even though he wears a nightdress.

-Texted the flirty 21 year old at work I'd like to ravage. He didn't write back.

-Had my mother hang up on me.

-Realized that I AM still the girl I was in high school. My neighbor and I went to pick up our dinners that we had packaged for us. On the walk over she was saying our building was just like high school. I told her in high school I used to go two towns over to hang out.

-Got a text from the night dress boy telling me that I am a "boring lady" for not going to the fancy dinner.

-Chatted at my bodyguard on gmail chat. This means that I know he left his chat on and I bombarded it with a massive amount of lines including things like, "lalalala" and, "Who is your favorite character on Friends?"

All in all a pretty good evening. I think I will do another Family Guy check and go and read things that make me laugh out loud.

Ohh before I forget, I tweeted today. I suck at Twitter but once and awhile, usually when I am alone and think of something nasty to say I tweet it in. Today's tweet:
"I dont know much about fashion but if spandex has to stretch you probably shouldnt be in it."

Tip of the Day: Don't do drugs if you are over 25.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

Day 377

This morning I was gabbing with my friends in Chicago. One told me about an upcoming date on chat. I called the other friend in Chicago who was telling me all about how ridiculous his orientation at his new school was. It was then that I looked in my planner only to realize that I was supposed to be at an orientation myself--an orientation that had already been going for 35 minutes. The best part was that I got there super late and without coffee but I the only available seat was between the two hottest people associated with my program. Even better was when one of the hotties turned to me and said in a hungover voice, "What's up?"

After the orientation meeting I ran back to my room to stop my hair straightener from burning down my building. Sidenote: Tonight I saw a Norwegian friend of mine and I asked him what he was carrying in the bag in his hand and he said, "Gasoline." I asked him if he was on the lookout to burn down a church. He said he was. Anyway, so I went to class this afternoon only to find out that I am the naughtiest girl there. But, the dumbest girl in the program was also there and the entire legion of gay men were there as well. Looks like this will be a class I will not be dropping. Although I am worried that the girl with the lipstick-shaped pen will outdo me in the comedy of the scripts we will write. Oh well at least I am still the naughtiest and not the dumbest.

A friend came over for dinner tonight. The last time she came over no one from my building sat by us and we both joked that it was because everyone thought we must certainly be on a lesbian date. This time she came over for dinner we deliberately sat far away and on our own to further create suspicion. But, this didn't quite work. Even though we were clearly not engaged with talking to anyone AT ALL this older man came and sat down and started to talk to us. Luckily my friend isn't a jerk like me and wasn't rude to him as I would have been had she not been there to buffer. She is no angel though, after dinner she laid in my bed and farted for an hour. Shit, even if I were a lesbian I wouldn't date that gassy bitch.

I just spent the last hour freaking myself out looking up "itchy red bumps skin rash" online. Do you have any idea how many skin rashes involved itchy red bumps? Holy frakking shit and some of them are terrifying. And damn Google to be Satan's asshole cleaner for having Google Image be so easy to use. Just the other night people I know (my idiot friends) looked up "anal piercing" on there and Google image had a plethora of ringed buttholes. I guess this technology makes life better?

I am also on the hating Kevin Pollack wagon. Why the hell does he talk to my favorite people for 2 hours at a stretch? Doesn't he realize I am supposed to do stuff with my time?

I want to formally apologize for my blog sucking lately. What can I say? I suck sometimes. I will try to do better but feel a torrent of excuses coming on before conditions change much. But, if you are bored you can always look up skin diseases on the internet and think you have them.

Tip of the Day: Don't look up skin conditions on the internet it will just make you insane.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-08T00:28:00.000-07:00

Day 376

I can't believe I am actually saying this but I had a fantastic day. It could be the vodka but I am going to pretend it wasn't. Here is the quick rundown before the vodka catches up to me:

Morning: I went to breakfast which sucked but my horoscope said that no doors stay shut for a Scorpio. That's gotta be a good sign right? Well, unless there is disease and doom on the other side of the door.

Right before breakfast I found out that there was an undergrad orientation going on this morning. Normally, I could give a shit less but as queen of the association and having recently watched Obama's speech in Milwaukee I felt inspired to go and shake hands. So, I went. and not only did I not (for once make an assface of myself) there were also meat sandwiches.

Afternoon: I went to my first grad-level screenwriting course. During the class we had to write a three sentence pitch for the last movie we had seen. We read them aloud and analyzed them. Everyone in the class recognized mine right away so I imagine it was good. Well, the reaction was positive until the curly-haired probably-gay boy across from me said, "You just saw Back to the Future III for the first time? You are so behind."

Evening: After class I had to go to work. The writers in my program decided to have a reunion of sorts at the pub I work at. At first I was apprehensive about whether or not I should wait on my friends but then I came around. Turns out it is way easier to wait on a big group when you know everyone by name. And apparently, they feel more obligated to tip..or it could've been the fact that they didn't have to pay for anything because the millionaire author swooped up the remaining 250 dollar tab but I am going to go with the fact that they thought they got stellar service and yes that did include me yelling at them to keep their shirts on (I saw three people's tits).

Another awesome thing that happened at work tonight: I met the new guy. He flipped his hands around and winked at me and then got serious and looked like Humpty Dumpty. Later I came up with a line to describe him, "He could either be one of those people who has a room full of dead animals or a room full of stuffed animals but you can't tell which..."

Spell check is telling me that "assface" is not a word.

Tip of the Day: It'll be okay.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

Day 375

Today it was Labo(u)r Day in both of the countries I have lived in. Naturally, I spent it watching television and picking my butt. I didn't even feel all that bad about it (okay, so I blamed it on my Aunt Flo and the rain). I didn't feel that bad anyway until I Skyped with my little brother. Who after he'd spoken his piece about how he fell in love with a Canadian girl and wanted to ditch our family to join a Peruvian family said to me, "So, you been writing all day then?" Despite this coming from a guy who has probably spent the last 5 hours drinking beer and playing videogames made me feel like shit.

Maybe one day when I am being interviewed by Kevin Pollack and he says, "Back in your last year of grad school you really had a boost in your productivity levels why is that? What happened?" I will respond, "Well Kevin, my brother pointed out that I wasn't doing anything with my life and it made me feel shitty." Then Kevin will laugh and I will be forced to laugh a little but deep down know that I owe my success to my brother calling me out on being a lazy butt scratching loser.

After an entire day spent indoors and alone I ventured out to supper in the dining hall of my residence. This being the first week of school means that there are tons of new people. Me, being a butt scratching idiot loser, didn't realize that this means there will be an overwhelming amount of people at dinner. Turns out my mother is right, I am an asshole. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to pull the flesh of my salmon from the scales in peace. Damn, I hate when mother is right. But, she IS right and I have vowed to myself to stop being such a jerk. Perhaps there is a youtube how-to video to give me tips on how to be nice. Pause. I just youtubed "how to be nice to people" and a Henry Rollins rant came up. Guess, I will remain a jerk but damn I miss listening to Black Flag.

It's really hard having crushes especially if those crushes are on celebrities. I am not just talking about the fact that you may never even be in the position to talk to them or even have them look at you. No. I am talking about the fact that if you have a crush on a non-celebrity you can stalk them online and it only takes like ten minutes to sift through the few photos of them on their Facebook pages. But, when you have a crush on a celebrity and go stalking (that is what you do with a crush, right, stalk them online) it can take days just to go through the first hundred hits you get, let alone the interviews, fansites, Twitter accounts and gossip rags. But damnit all if I can't find two hotter men in the world than Craig Ferguson and Seth MacFarlane. A girl has gotta have standards and apparently, no life at all so she can stalk celebrities online.

I spent the last few hours of my life watching my crushes speak on the Kevin Pollack chat show. I must say it is wonderful that you no longer have to watch 5 minute random interviews with your crushes and wish that they lasted longer. But, it's like they (whoever the fuck that means) say, Be careful what you wish for... After watching Seth MacFarlane I was more in love than ever. After I realized that two hours of my life had gone by without me writing anything (again) I was not so grateful for the two hour video of him talking and drinking and looking classically handsome. But, I might watch it again...tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, school starts tomorrow. I even have a class to attend. But, sadly, instead of being able to go out for drinks afterward I have to work at the pub serving those drinks to my drunken friends. But then again, there is something nice about being paid to hang out with your friends and I can get wacky on Monster energy drinks. Anyway, I am excited about this year of learning. Am I worried that it will cut into my Family Guy marathon-watching time? Signs point to yes. Do I have a new outfit to wear to school? Very doubtful. Do I even know where my first class is going to be held? Ask again later. Will I survive? Concentrate and ask again.

All I know for sure is that I may have to cut back a little on the blogging. Hopefully that means that all of the shitty parts of this blog will be gone and only the insightful thoughts about the human condition will remain to inspire future generations. Who am I kidding? I don't think I can even define the word "insightful" but I certainly can define the word "shit." Who knows what will happen to this blog. I just hope that I will be too busy to bitch about how I am an asshole. I don't really care if I am or am not an asshole I just want to be too busy to drone about it. Hopefully that is what school can do for me. Does that mean I will ever stop being a butt scratching loser? It is decidedly so.

Well, time for my beauty rest. If rest made people beautiful the most beautiful people wouldn't be awake to enjoy the glory of it. I think I'd rather be the ugly and wakeful.

Tip of the Day: Do something.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-06T00:35:00.000-07:00

Day 374

This morning I woke up and did tons of chores. I was scrubbing and taking trash out and doing laundry and tidying all morning long without even having a coffee. I guess dark chocolate, Midol, and the fumes from Lysol cleaner are just enough to turn you into a clean machine.

Today I was talking to my mother as she was getting ready for unwanted guests. She said to me, "...and I only have three hours to get the house cleaned up and make a meal and your father is in the shower so he'll probably get out and want to have sex." After I nearly threw up we talked about other things and she said not too much later, "Alright, well, I have to go." To which I said, "Go have sex with dad?" Then she was the one who was silent.

This afternoon I was waiting for my bodyguard to come back from India. I haven't seen him in four months. His new place of residence just so happens to be near the coffeeshop I like so I sat in the window seat like a puppy that nearly jumps every time someone passes by. He didn't show up then and while I got an outline done I went home and realized that I could do my idea better and wondered where my bodyguard could be.

Finally, later in the afternoon, I met up with my bodyguard. He was wearing my favorite shirt and looked fantastic for having traveled for almost two days straight. I hugged him and didn't let go for a long, long time. We went out for his birthday and met some friends at a favorite writer haunt.

At one point I was telling two of the people at the table that I was going to go on the pill again to try and control my periods and so that I don't feel like such an asshole before and during my time of the month. What I didn't realize was that the entire was listening and those at the edges were saying, "What? She's getting back on the pill?" Finally, I looked around the whole table and asked, "I am going on the pill again, is that alright with you?"

Later I got into it with the boyfriend of a writer friend and got a few lectures from different people about how I hate and judge people too easily. Then, as always, people didn't pay enough on the bill and I was one of the people that got stuck having to pay more. And, when I was sick of everyone picking at me my friend made fun of the fact that I was going to cry. Seriously? I wanted to hang around these people? On the walk to the bus I thanked my bodyguard for never being one of those people that was hypercritical of everything I said and for knowing that I am not an asshole. I don't think he realized how much I meant it.

Moral of the story: Take more Midol, don't talk to Canadians who pick apart everything you say and go on and on for hours about how you shouldn't judge things and how you should like everyone.

Tonight I realized that for as many hours of my life I have spent watching and listening to Lady Gaga I had not even looked at her wikipedia page. What kind of little monster am I? Is there some sort of Gaga penance that could be performed for a sin this large?

Alright I am going to bed before the Midol haze wears off.

Tip of the Day: Friends aren't supposed to make you feel like shit all the time.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-05T01:19:00.000-07:00

Day 373

Since I have been living in this residence building many academic-types have said something to the effect of, "Oh, you are a writing major? So you get to sit around and write stories and stuff, that sounds like so much fun!" Most of the time I want to slap them and say, "Really, fucker? You think this shit is fun or easy? You think that it would be MORE difficult for me to study a subject like Mathematics that actually has some answers and correct ways of doing shit or at least pointers to know you are on track?! Go to hell!" But today, after I realized the freeing revelation that everything I have been doing towards my thesis was completely the wrong thing to do, I actually thought, "Yeah, I get to sit around all day and think up and write stories, I am lucky."

After I put everything in order and for the millionth time thought for sure that I am on track (who knows if you keep trying something's gotta work, right?) I went to the corporate movie store where I am on a cheap deal and milled around looking for tons of shit they don't have. Then, I went to the thriftstore and milled around for tons of shit they don't have. Finally I wound up back on campus to realize a few things:

-I don't care who sees me buying feminine hygiene products anymore. Maybe it stemmed from when I was a young teen and my mother and I used to go shopping and instead of pulling out a pen to write her check she'd accidentally pull out a tampon in front of cute checkout boys but somewhere along the way I got embarrassed to buy girl shit. Now, I look at it more like a game when I bring my damming products up to the checkout boy I almost want to be like, "Yeah, that's right I may be on my period right now and you have no idea what I may do next..."

-The campus is overtaken by undergrads. I am not really okay with this because I don't really want to have to navigate my way around children carrying cheap beer cases but I do like the parents that are coming along with them. When I was at my favorite hideaway on campus today I noticed an older couple (obvious parents) who were waiting around for their daughter to call them. The Dad was then sent out on a mission and left. The daughter came in and took the mother with her. Then, the father returned to the cafe looking for them and I could hear cursing under his breath.

-For the past few days tons of people have been telling me that I need to be more social. Today I even had a guy who hasn't lived in my building for at least two years but comes to dinner every night tell me that I should really go to the orientation events my residence is having. I asked him why and he said, "Because it will be less awkward." "What will be less awkward?" "Things like talking to people at dinner," he said. "It's one or two hours of your life and it will save you so much hassle," he added. I am not sure what "hassle" he is talking about. If you don't talk to anyone you don't have any hassle. Actually, what I should've said to him is, "Well, is there an orientation to make this interaction less awkward and hassle-ly?"

I did socialize this evening and by socialize I mean, I went to see my anti-social friend. We watched a shitty dance movie together and drank Coke. We even talked for hours. That's right, I can be social people, sometimes I just don't want to be social with social people.

Tip of the Day: Good and Plenty candies are so friggin delish they make me say delish.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-03T19:25:00.000-07:00

Day 372

This blog comes to you from my secret hideout. My secret hideout is a place I go to because nobody (except two guys I sort of have crushes on) knows where it is and cannot find me here. Do I sound like a crazy person yet? Just wait...

This morning I woke up and had to go straight back to the pub to work. When I got there I found out that I was stuck with four new people and was expected to train and help out. Luckily, they sort of knew what they were doing and for at least most of the time they seemed sane and kind. And by "most of the time" I am specifically talking about the time when the girl I was training was like, "Oh, you study Creative Writing. I had a friend who studied Creative Writing. You know what she's doing now? She's managing a Starbucks. Isn't that what you do if you study Creative Writing?" Or the awkward moment when the guy I was training said, "I'd like to teach English in maybe Korea or Japan when I am done with my degree. I don't like China because I don't like Communism."

Anyway, while I was there I had a pack of law students to wait on. And by "a pack of law students" I mean a table that started out with four and grew to 14. Not only were they huge alcoholics, they were the snobby, mean variety of alcoholics not the fun-loving kind. They were so nasty that when we put gratuity on their check because they were a party of 10 or more they all had private debates with me about why they thought it was unfair. And they weren't the fun sort of debate where you say your piece and then listen to what the other person has to say and then move on. They were the type of debates where my, "Well, it's policy and it's to protect that the servers get tipped. It's maybe not so much for you guys as for the 19 year olds who come in here" wasn't heard at all. They sort of make me want to become rich just so that I can prove to that there are high profile people who can be kind. Also, if I were rich enough I could find someone to torch their houses or cut the brake lines in their BMWs.

If I am not in a shitty enough mood I have to be reminded via how everyone updates their friggin Facebook status that I am the ONLY FUCKING PERSON on the planet that doesn't have an iPhone. Also, I have to confront the fact that there are tons of my Facebook friends who are sooo fricking happy and lovey dovey about their impending weddings and I have grown into the type of person who is hateful at other people's happiness. This just a reminder that I have not yet blossomed into the type of person who isn't jealous, ever, and goes out and makes their own life instead of thinking everyone else has it better. I wonder if the secret to that is drugs or denial?

And as an added bonus my mother, even though I told her this evening that I wish she was here to hug me and play cards with me said, "I have to finish eating my pizza now and I need two hands to do it. I'll call you later!" I am going to blame her for me turning into a narcissistic asshole.

Right now, I think I'll pop some pills, eat some cheesecorn and wait to see if my creepy horoscope comes true. Here is an excerpt:

"You need to pay attention to your dreams -- more than you usually do, anyway! Your great spiritual energy makes you a conduit to something much deeper, and the messages come at night."

"...the messages come at night" Seriously? If I have it my way a bottle of wine will knock me out and I won't have to go to bed and witness the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and especially not my Starbucks future (that little fucking cunt).

Tip of the Day: Don't call mother.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-03T00:49:00.000-07:00

Day 371

Okay, so I wasn't a peach when I got home this evening but when I opened up my email to see that I only got two shifts this week at the shithole pub when NEW fucking people got three I got bleary-eyed with rage. To give you a hint at the level of rage I was at a few hours ago before this last round: I showed up to work to find new people EVERYWHERE all looking around like they didn't know what to do with themselves. I marched right up to the ditzy blonde who was flirting with everything male and said, "What exactly is going on here?!" She looked at me like I was a crack addict. So, I said, "Look, it's me and you and I just want you to know that if we are going to do every other table that means we do every other table because if we don't I am going to get cunty, okay?"

Okay, so I felt kind of bad for a little while for snapping at her. Then, I misinterpreted what another server said to me and I replied, "Are you being bitchy with me?!" And, I must have said it belligerently enough for a customer to meekly turn around and say, "He wasn't being bitchy with you." Then, I felt bad for that.

Later I apologized to the co-worker I accused of being bitchy and he said not to be sorry and for a moment I liked him for more than just his sexy thighs. Things didn't go so well with the ditz and I stopped feeling bad for bitching at her right after I saw her give her number (on her first night of work have you) to the dopiest looking fool in the bar. I think I am going to start calling her Chlamydia.

Most of the rest of my day was spent eating things and trying to write and watching the episodes of The Golden Girls that I have seen 10,000 times. The only interesting bits were when I went into the Creative Writing Department and once again realized that writers--even department heads--don't know shit about addition. It took me and the grad advisor nearly an hour to figure out that I was registered in 30 credits for the upcoming year and that, as a minimum, I only need to be in 18 credits.

At supper this evening I found out that my "homeboy"--a new resident who lived four blocks from me for 3 years--is the culmination of every nerd in every movie that ever had a nerd in it. In short, he's perfect. He nearly started salivating during our infamous dinner conversation about who in the residence would be what race of people from Lord of the Rings. Then he even went on a rant about ancient societies and how LOTR is similar to them making sure to include dates and history lessons and details about how he thinks that the races in the series are very similar to Indian caste systems modes of existence. I want to put the little yapper on a keychain and never let him out of my sight.

Okay, well I better go to bed and pray that I get my period so I don't find out that I am just an angry bitch. At least I remembered to write in my blog.

Why the frak nugget does spellchecker not think "cunty" is a word?

Tip of the Day: Drinking tons of Monster energy drink doesn't help anyone but sometimes it's worth a shot.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-09-02T08:50:00.000-07:00

Day 370 (sort of)

Holy shit. I woke up this morning to a message from one of my (my only?) devoted reader informing me that I didn't write a blog entry for yesterday. What's strange is that I was telling my mother just last night how friggin forgetful I am and I asked her (seriously) if it were possible to have early-onset dementia or Alzheimer's. I feel like I am getting some sort of preview. But who knows? It's no big deal right, forgetting the blog. I mean it's not like I haven't done it EVERY DAY (except a few) for over a year now. I probably remember to write my blog more than I remember to brush my teeth or more than I remember my actual age.

At dinner last night two people had agreed to do this freaking food diary thing with me for a week. You know, when you write down EVERYTHING you eat. Well, unless you are me and just don't remember. Anyway, we all agreed that if we kept it up for a week and shared it with each other then we could all share a DQ ice cream cake and NOT write it down. Yeah, it's the small things, I guess. So, after dinner I walked up to the coffeeshop and I must have been buzzing from the camaraderie and the impending ice cream cake to come because I actually sat down and figured out how I was going to write my entire spec for Roseanne.

Tennessee Williams, my beloved playwright of choice was asked in an interview once about his writing habits. He said that he wrote every day for around 4 hours a day. The interviewer then asked how many good days of writing he had a year and old Ten said that he was lucky to have just a couple good days. Yesterday, at that coffeeshop, I had a good day. The kind of day that makes you realize why you are stupid enough to continue writing. It's the small high you get when you know you wrote something that may not turn out to be total shit, at least for one day. In fact, everything was wonderful even if I had to turn down the chocolate almonds the coffee shop offers because I didn't want to add them to my food diary. If that wasn't enough, I explained to the skinny barista WHY I didn't want them and she laughed at me.

When I got home I was still intoxicated with my writing high. I worked on my afghan, took a shower, and watched some TV while drinking like 4 cups of tea. The most interesting thing I could find on TV (no Family Guy was on for some reason, fucking Canada) was William Shatner's Weird or What show. On the episode I watched they did three stories and I only caught the last one. Did I mention the last one takes place where I live? And, is about dismembered feet washing ashore? I was totally freaked out until Shatner sat next to a pool full of floating shoes and said, "Weird or What?!" then I burst out laughing.

Let's see, can I remember anything else? It's so difficult. Maybe this is why I keep a blog in the first place. Nah, I think I keep it because, miraculously, I can remember the password to it. Oh yeah, at breakfast I sat next to a guy with a weird name. There are a lot of people moving into my residence now and every meal is a freaking meet and greet. This guy, as it turns out, is from the US so I made him guess the home states of every American at the table. He started with me and guessed my home state almost immediately and it turns out for the past couple of years not only were we living in the same state, we were living four blocks from each other, we hung out at the same spots and we knew some of the same people. Weird or What?! Okay, so not as weird as dismembered feet. Fuck, Shatner, you're good.

The other main event of the day (that I remember) was the event in which I met up with a classmate of mine who had taken the Producing for Film and Television course which I am signed up for this fall. She told me that I should really re-think the course. I asked her why and told her that I really want to know exactly what a producer does as I may wind up in that position some day if I am lucky. She then took the opportunity to point out that what a producer does in Canada is completely different than what a producer does in the United States. How could I not have thought of this? She told me that if I wanted to learn how to get money from the Canadian government to make a Canadian feature film this class would be spectacular for me. Ugh.

So, that is all I can remember and I have to go eat eggs now. Let's see if I remember to write tonight...

Most of the rest of the day involved me going to a pharmacy and trying to act coy when I told the hot pharmacist with the gorgeous hands that I can't afford to get most of the drugs I am prescribed while he was trying to get me to sign up for a rewards program. He said it would really pay off. Turns out you have to spend something like 800 bucks before you can save 10 bucks. Guess I won't be going out with him anytime soon. But perhaps he could get me more points for free...wonder if anyone has ever had an affair to get bonus points?

Tip of Yesterday: Sometimes you don't remember.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-08-31T21:07:00.000-07:00

Day 369

I am worried about going back to school. Not only will I have a million jobs, tons of classes, and a thesis to write I will see people I haven't seen for months. This didn't really concern me until today when I saw a friend of mine from the program that I hadn't seen in awhile. I greeted her with, "I hate you! Why don't we hang out?!" I meant, "I love you! I am super sad we don't hang around each other more often!" A nearby friend luckily translated my words for me. I wonder why I don't say what I mean? My guess is that it is the same reason I don't read long novels...too boring.

I woke up today and the weather was shit. I was so excited. I just hate when it is nice out for too long it becomes meaningless and I feel guilty for not going outside. I marched to breakfast in the rain, smiling. When I got there I declared my glee over the shittiness. I wasn't even two blocks away when I realized that I had been living a lie. Rain sucks.

I wonder if there are more disclaimers on tv shows in Canada than in the US. It seems to me that I don't recall TV shows that I love starting with a blah, blah, blah, "some viewers may find this content offensive." There is a good thing about disclaimers, everytime I see a disclaimer that a show will be offensive it makes me want to watch it. It's like a warning, "Hey! This is a show you will like!" The only thing that I don't understand is that I like The Golden Girls and yet there is no disclaimer on that.

This afternoon I went to the pub I work at to meet up with someone I went to high school with who is starting a program at my University. Still there? I know, that was a mouth full of backstory. Anyway, when I got to the pub I was attacked by my co-workers. It's not even like we're best friends but they immediately all had stories to tell me, bike handlebar grips to brag about, and ridiculously long hugs to give. If that weren't enough the 21 year old I often hit on was all over me. The pub is a super fun place when you aren't working, who knew?

I finally got to my high school acquaintance. Despite the fact that the only person she has kept in touch with from high school is someone who I am pretty sure still hates me to this day, we had a good time. She told me about her recent trips. We talked about what we had done and reminisced. We had conversations like:

Me: Can you believe we dated the same guy?
Her: Who?
Me: Seth.
Her: We never officially dated.
Me: Really? Because he was totally not over you when I went out with him.

Or my favorite conversation, that went something to the effect of:

Her: Yeah, I haven't written anything for a long time.
Me: Don't worry, writers don't write and any one of them who says that they do is a damn liar.

So, all was well except for the fact that I didn't bring the 21 year old home with me.

Tip of the Day: Sometimes it's a bad idea to look at old Facebook photos of people you have just met.

-Canadian Castaway

I Am so Over Titles...Untitled (aka Anti-Title)

2010-08-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

Day 368

Despite my constant denials I read my horoscope every day and believe it will come true. It never does. But, today came very close. My horoscope for today basically said that people would piss me off and I would have to "roll with the punches." My morning started off my one of my best friends (just minutes after I rolled out of bed) Skype messaging me something along the lines of, "Fuck you." Then I went to breakfast and found out that the only guy I may have even the tiniest bit of a crush on is moving away soon and that he doesn't seem all that interested in hanging out before he goes away.

If all of those "punches" weren't enough to start my day I had to go to work. At work I had to deal with the manager making me take a less busy shift this would be okay except for her reasoning behind it, "Well, I can't have so and so on because he wouldn't know how to handle the new people." So, not only do I make less money I have to deal with training bright-eyed little butt kissers who will probably steal my tables. AND, I will have to be nice to them. They'd better at least be sexy or dispense pain pills.

Speaking of pills, the head bartender at work and the other server today were both on some sort of drugs when I worked with them today. This turned them from dull-faced, tame, cranky zombies into wide-eyed, terrified, shaking squirrels who throw away my lunch because they can't stop cleaning. Speaking of cleaning, (fucking segues, so addicting) my co-workers and I spent nearly all day cleaning out a storage room in the pub to make it a more usable space. Mostly we were covered in spiderwebs, mysterious sticky stuff, wondering what the white powder found in a drawer was, and broken glass. Speaking of broken glass, (annoying, I know) one of the broken glass-fronted refrigerators in that room needed to go out so we put it on a dolly and had people all around but it fell and shattered into a million pieces nearly crushing the new girl who can't speak English and can't stop touching me. I'm glad it didn't hit her but maybe if it would've bonked her just a little bit I wouldn't have to constantly lecture her on how she needs to clear dirty plates off the tables.

Elliott is trying to kill me. For some reason my bike (Elliott) has been super hard to pedal. It could be because the brakes are catching, things need greasing, or the fender that is cracked is rubbing against the wheel. I don't know. What I do know is that my right knee feels like the tendons are under the kneecap instead of atop. (Yeah, I know nothing about anatomy but fake it) The only other thing I know is that sitting in your room watching TV and eating lime-flavored tortilla chips doesn't make your knee feel better. Especially not after seeing that there is some mysterious possible animal feces-esque material in the bottom of your chip bag.

This afternoon I pretty much spent watching TV. Every show I had a justification for watching it. Here is a brief rundown:

-That freaking ghostbusting show.
Justification: I always turn on these shows and get disappointed because they never find anything. But this particular episode had them finding multiple things including one of the crew members seeing a face.

-The Golden Girls (2 episodes in a row)
Justification: Okay so I have seen the show a million times but how can you turn down one of the greatest sitcoms of all time? I am just going to ignore the fact that I have seen the episodes before and the fact that the show is on TV everyday.

-some weird show about the Antiques Roadshow
Justification: So, I was flipping through channels and found some old man saying that the Antiques Roadshow name should be changed. How could I not be distracted by such a disastrous idea?

-The Antiques Roadshow
Justification: I want to hear Midwestern accents to remind me of home. Also, who can resist seeing the ridiculous reactions to a set of bowls being worth thousands of dollars or a bureau worth only 100 bucks more than what the guy paid for it, or the woman who heard, "Three of the four items you've brought in are reproductions. Guess which one isnt."

-Absolutely Fabulous
Justification: Who knew I could watch full episodes on youtube? If I don't get enough Ab Fab I turn into a psychotic homicidal hag, sweetie.

Well, I am off to see what other adventures need my attention in TV land...

Tip of the Day: Don't read your horoscope, it will not end well.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-08-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

Day 367

Today was a (dare I say) flipping fantastic day. I woke up and Skyped with my little brother who had woken up, drank two beers and ate pizza. Then I went to the grocery store with the guy who I thought ditched me yesterday. Turns out he texted me several times but had a ridiculously wrong number for my phone. As it turns out this guy may not be dating material but it was nice that he picked raspberries for me and picked up my button when I dropped it. Too bad he cut up his legs in the bramble. Ehh, fuck it, that is what you get for telling me to not whine about the weather.

After I got home from the supermarket with my three different kinds of deli meat at my side I checked my email. Not only did I have meat, it turns out I have received another scholarship. I was so glad that I did a five minute, improvised happy dance. Then I wrote a thank you note to the person who awarded me the money. I wrote the note but then realized that I didn't have printing paper that doesn't have my old scripts on one side nor did I have any envelopes to put a letter in even if I could print it. Tonight I realized with a printed, enveloped, addressed, and stamped envelope ready to go out tomorrow that I misspelled the name of the person who awarded me the money. What is a little wasted postage of the queen to a gal who has just struck it big with 650 bucks less tuition to pay? On the otherhand, perhaps she won't notice I forgot an "e" in her name...

This afternoon my mother threatened me. This happens quite often. Usually it sounds something like, "You aren't writing, you are screwing off. Now, I want you to--Shut up! I want you to put that pen--Shut up and listen to me! I want you to put that pencil to the pad right now...I WILL come up there and kick your ass...I will fly up there right now. Shut up, now!" Today she followed it up with a threat to call me in the next two hours and that I had better have produced some writing by then. This new tactic worked. I went to the coffeeshop and wrote up scenes and threads and outlines. She never called me back though so I could brag about it and get re-yelled at. Guess she shut up this time.

I just went onto Facebook to find a thread of conversation by two of my best looking friends. In the conversation one offers to marry the other. I read their exchanges like a peeper perv and then posted that I would like to attend the wedding. I just checked back on Facebook to find that their thread of marriage conversation had continued with my little comment totally unnoticed. When are the pretty people gonna see that I exist? Fuck them, if I go to their wedding they are getting a used toaster.

I must say I am a little confused by advertising. I just saw a commercial for KIA automobiles (wow, 'automobiles' I am an octogenarian). Somehow gerbils in ghetto gear rapping about nothing makes people want to buy shitty cars. For my birthday this year I want to meet the people who bought KIAs based on this commercial or better yet, I want to meet the person that thought that the way to sell cars was to market them to perverts who let rodents run up their pants.

Tip of the Day: Don't eat all the corn nuts and chase them with tortilla chips, you WILL regret it.

-Canadian Castaway

2010-08-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

Day 366 (for real)

Part 1:

So, I am sitting in my room right now because I got ditched. I am not gonna say I don't kind of deserve it because I have been bad-mouthing my "date" behind his back. But, I am going to say that I am shocked. And that I pretty much hate everything male and single. Especially the man from the nudie beach who just walked up to me and said, "Hey, are you okay?" I thought, 'He is just saying that because I have a low-cut shirt on and he is a skeez and wants to talk to the girl sitting on the curb, fucking dickwad.' It didn't even occur to me to think, 'He is asking that because Canadians aren't used to seeing my bitchface that I wear in the ghetto and I am sitting on the curb looking insane.'

I did have a fun day today. My friend and I (a non-single, non-asswipe guy) went to a flea market. For 75 cents I was admitted entrance into a wonderland. This place is where all of the magical people with lost waistlines and not perfect teeth and people who drive their dead grandma's Buicks basically this is the place where people I call kin hang out. This is the place where you buy half-empty bottles of used shampoo and statues of cats. This is the place where ugly advertising buttons go in their after life. This is the place that forces you to wonder where the fuck that DVD was stolen from, who stole it and how. This place reminded me of home. After I bought a bunny necklace, a Norwegian flag pin, a unicorn pin, a picture of an old couple and a picture of a pig that has, "Lucille" written in cursive by someone who is probably dead now we left the market. Even though we left it will stay with me every time I look at Lucille.

Before I went to the market I watched my brother eat stroganoff and light a 3 1/2 foot candle. I can't seem to tell if video chat has made my life better or worse. All I really know for certain is that that stroganoff made me hungry and that high-fiving my brother virtually is something ridiculous that I don't want to end.

As evidence that we never really change, I want to offer up popsicles. Today I went to the store to buy some grub. I walked out of the store with hummus and a huge, beautiful tri-layered popsicle. When I ate that popsicle and walked down the street I wondered if the people passing by saw me eating it and were extremely jealous of it.

Part 2:

After I had gotten ditched I went over to say goodbye to a friend of mine who leaves on a two month trip tomorrow. We hung out for a bit and drank tea. Then I remembered that I had not seen Back to the Future 3 and I texted my movie friend to bring it over. Sometime when we were listening to the characters exposition-laden dialogue (fucking annoying) my "date" had sent me a Facebook message stating that he had not heard back from the text he'd sent me and that he was going to bed. After the movie I read the message and wrote back that I had not gotten a text from him on my phone. I saw the time his Facebook message was sent and wrote back, "Holy Fraggle Rock you go to bed at 10?!" Wonder what he'll make of that.

The only vlog I watch is vlogbrothers. On that vlog one of the brothers gave a eulogy of sorts to a 16 year old friend of theirs who passed away from cancer this week. I realize that it might be cliche to reflect on life when someone has died but fuck it. The reason that there is death in life is to remember that life ends. She was 16 years old. And here I am a whiny 26 year old bitching about some stupid boy that I don't even like as though it really matters. It really doesn't. I know that.

R.I.P. Esther Earl. Thank you for making me realize that a lot of my problems and worries are all bullshit and instead of letting them weigh me down I need to start only doing stuff I care about. Even if the stuff that I care about is bitching about things in a blog. There is so much more that I care about. Thank you. I needed that.

Tip of the Day: Sometimes when you buy "Cheese Flavour" rice crackers they taste more like, "Rotten Beef Jerky Flavour" rice crackers.

-Canadian Castaway

ONE YEAR!!!!

2010-08-27T22:40:00.000-07:00

Day 365

It has been one year. Despite the fact that for some reason my blog from yesterday reads "Day 366." What can I say? Sometimes I am drunken. The point is last year on this very day I was having a breakdown at the car rental place where I said, "I want to go home." Last year at this time I was laying on sheets that weren't mine in an empty room not knowing why I had given up jobs where I made money and moved my life 1800 miles away. Truth is, I am still not really sure of the answer to that but, I am glad I did.

What have I learned this year?

I have learned that not all creative writers are assholes.

I have learned that academia, as much as I dislike it, contains many interesting people who aren't all assholes (well, sort of).

I have learned that we never really know anything about anything, ever. And the moment we think we do it is disproven.

I have learned that Canadians say words in a funny way and are pretty good natured when you point that out to them.

I have learned that I am an arrogant and proud American. Which DOES mean that I am loud and don't want to hear your opinion and yes, I do think Obama is gorgeous.

I have learned that it is a bitch keeping a blog everyday but it is highly addicting to say what you think and to pretend to hope that nobody reads it but secretly wish that people would and they would feel a sense of understanding.

I learned that sometimes it's fun to hit on 21 year olds and I will probably think that for the rest of my life.

I learned how important it is to have a place where you are from and the only way to not resent that place and do it proud is to move on from there and wear your homelands like a precious locket. (I know, no one wears lockets anymore)

-I learned that sometimes you will meet fellow fatties who know as much about the Gilmore Girls as you do.

Tonight I learned something very valuable. I sat there on the bus riding back from a bar, listening to Gaga and staring alternately at a woman with a deformed arm that almost made me cry and a man who I was so attracted to that I was conscience of my posturing, all the while I thinking about the past year of my life and thinking about how much I hate nostalgia. I realized that I am damn lucky. Ever since I was at the age when grownups started to ask children what they wanted to be when they grew up I always responded, "I want to be happy." And for that moment on the bus, right after I'd thought about how far I had come in this one year, I realized for the first time, without thinking about how everything could very soon fall to shit, that I was happy. I guess I grew up.

Now, I must check on the guinea pig upstairs to see if it still alive. And in case you are wondering, yes, I will continue the blog despite me saying that it was a one year deal. Seriously, what the frack else am I gonna do? I can't afford therapy. And yes, tomorrow I will (probably) be back to my snarky self. Alright, here I go, that little fucker had better be alive...

Tip of the Day: Go for it, what the hell else are you gonna do?

-Canadian Castaway

Odds and Odds and No Ends...

2010-08-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

Day 366

I am super tired so here is a brief list of the happenings, observations and inquiries of the day:

How weird are contacts commercials? I mean can you imagine being on the casting couch where your eyes are judged beautiful enough or most likely, not beautiful enough to make it into the commercial that they probably digitally enhance anyhow.

So after I got home from work tonight I checked my Facebook page to find that I only had 2 notifications. And, I genuinely felt like a loser. It was like in the summertime when I was a 13 year old I would keep track of how many people called me each day. I guess we never really change.

How the hell is Blitzkrieg Bop only number 25 on the 100 Greatest Hard Rock Songs? I was so distressed that one of my personal anthems was in such a low-ranking spot I almost turned the show off...almost.

Today I went to get a key that will allow me access into several rooms in my department. While at the key office I noticed that they had a huge amount of plastic things to attach to your keys so that they are easier to identify I took a whole bunch of them. When I got to the pub I declared, "Do you want to see why I am employee of the month?" and slammed all of them on the bar. "Here, so we can put them on our million keys to identify what doors they go to." Sadly, no one took my picture to put on the wall and scrawl, "Employee of the Month." Perhaps they are just waiting until tomorrow in an effort to surprise me and give them time to order a cake with, "Emily is the Best!!!!!" and a unicorn on it.

The pub I work at has been without liquor for over a hundred days due to a few issues with serving minors. Now that we have re-opened we are extra vigilant about checking IDs. What is surprising to me is that not only do people act like I am attacking them when I ask for their ID, many of them freak out when I cannot take their student card as a verification piece of ID even though we never have taken them as a secondary piece and even worse, many people don't have ID on them at all and look shocked when I tell them to leave. Seriously, I wish there was a sign I could hold up that read, "You are already stupid and drinking isn't going to make you any smarter. Get the hell out of here and go hang out at the library and read until you aren't an idiot."

I just saw a commercial that is about a lawyer who is seeking motorcyclists who have been hit by cars as clients. During the normal lawyer-speaking-about-his-services voice over the camera follows a motorcyclist popping a wheelie on the freeway. At the end of his speech the wheelie popping cyclist wheelies up to the law office, takes off the helmet and reveals the two-bit lawyer type after he pulls off a helmet. To really drive home how much he knows about he says that he too has been a biker hit by a car himself. Well, duh, if you are gonna pop wheelies on a freeway... But what I wonder if it was him that came up with the idea to hire a stunt driver to make his commercial look allegedly badass.

I am supposedly going out on Saturday with a guy in my building who had 22 boxes of shit sent over here from his home country and answered his door (when he knew I was coming over) in a nightdress a la Scrooge. Today I went around bitching about it and asking people what I should do and pretty much treating the whole thing like a wacky joke. But now I am wondering if I should feel bad about it. Damn fricking conscience. I think the Canadian-ness around me is seeping through.

Tip of the Day: Don't eat more than 4 liquorice bits from Italy in a row.

-Canadian Castaway

Jobs I Didn't Apply For and Nightdresses and Rock and Roll

2010-08-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

Day 365

Today I got two jobs that I didn't apply for. The first job is a position in my residence. Apparently, I am an "Emergency Contact" aka: The girl that you call when you are a new resident and too stupid or drunk or lost to open the key box. The funny thing is that I am probably the least welcoming person in the building. My other duties include helping people if they have emergencies. My usual response to emergencies: panic! and then ask my bodyguard to tell me what to do.

The second job I got today was when I went in to the department office to ask why the hell people are coming to me saying that I can give them money and they were told to run ideas by me regarding creative writing department concerns. Turns out I am the "chair" of the program's student association and I didn't know it. This job is apparently the same gig as the key box in a lot of ways. Except I get paid 100s of dollars more but, I still am essentially the welcoming committee for new students and the go to for concerns. Why the hell do people think I am so good at solving problems and welcoming people? All I gotta say is make me "queen" not "chair" and give me a tiara and I will be as welcoming as you want.

Today I hung out at the magazine office for my department. We bitched about each other and writing and how the heat might kill the resident goldfish and then we all started to sing a Sinead O'Connor song. Then I was suddenly struck by a wave of instant nostalgia, imagining that there will come a day when I think back on the moment we all started singing Sinead and remember it sweeter than it actually was. Maybe in my memory none of us will hold back our voices out of embarrassment and there will be a dance number.

After supper this evening I learned how to hook up A/V equipment for one of my other jobs. Note: I can barely turn on my laptop and they think I can set up video equipment. On the plus side, if I can figure it out I can project pornos on the outside wall of my building. After that I went to my new neighbors room to see the 22 boxes of shit he shipped over from his country. Apparently, it was a half ton of stuff. When I knocked (and he knew I was coming) he answered after a few minutes and he was wearing a friggin night dress. It looked like the thing the Scrooge wore in The Muppet Christmas Carol. Keep in mind that he is under 25 years old and that I sort of asked him out for Saturday. Would I be a total cunt if I told him I couldn't make it because his boxes and freaky nightgown scare the hell out of me?

The best thing ever just happened: VH1 100 Greatest Hard Rock Songs is on!!!! I have never been so friggin glad to see Bret Michaels and wonder if he took his bandanna off would his head fall off? And of course Bret Michaels is wearing a Bret Michaels shirt. Okay so I will admit this is definitely not the first time I watched this show but I do know that I will watch it EVERY time it comes on television and I find it. #60 Skid Row! I cannot decide if my spirit animal is the lead singer of The Darkness, Dio or, Lady Gaga. Best quote: "Kid Rock was a trailer park pimp."

Tip of the Day: If you can only afford to buy one rock record make sure that record is by The Kinks.

-Canadian Castaway

Things and Stuff and Things and Junk...

2010-08-24T23:21:00.001-07:00

Day 364

This morning I went to breakfast. There are many days when I just sleep and miss out but I am ever so happy today wasn't one of those days. Nope, today was different. Today was exciting. Today at breakfast the main topics of conversation were male urethras and foreskins. I sat next to my favorite person in my residence hall today. He is some sort of med student who will probably make tons of money as a specialized surgeon one day. He told me stories, without me even asking, about how there was a guy on some sort of drug whose friends glued his urethra shut and he couldn't pee. He also told me about the guy who was bending over while doing the laundry and somehow ripped his foreskin. When the guy had gone into the emergency room the guy was all joke-y. He even said, "I've seen Scrubs, I know you are so going to go and tell this to all your friends." Umm, hell yeah! From now on I am going to start hanging around doctors, they are much more entertaining than writers and have better stories.

This morning I remembered why my best friend is my best friend. Not only did he listen to me bitch about why my thesis sucks, he had the perfect answer that didn't make me feel like a whiny bitch bag. He said, "Or, you could look at it in a different way like, if there is a new show on Fox that has the same characters as yours then you are doing good. You are in the right vein as stuff that is getting produced and put on the air." Then, when I said I didn't know what to do with what I had then he said, "Just change the genders around." A couple hours later he called back and told me exactly how I could start working on my other series idea, complete with possible character descriptions and set-ups that totally made sense and inspired me. And to think I met him in some coffeeshop years ago and he walked me home that night singing Peaches. How could I not have seen right away that he was BFF material?

John Waters once said that being rich is the state when you can go to the bookstore and take home whatever you want. As I remember the Jodie Sweetin memoir I had to put back I was reminded that I am not rich. When I bought a book about writing comedy I thought about how my mother said that she doesn't see me writing comedy and then I had to remember that I wasn't funny. And finally, when I checked out and let the smooth-talking clerk talk me into getting a 25 dollar membership I had to realize that I am still a sucker. And somehow, none of that matters because after I got out of the store I looked into the plastic bag and I remembered the sickly-sweet, addictive dork joy I get when I have new books.

Finally, the word uber has been replaced (yeah fuck you, I am not putting the umlaut symbol it's too mainstream now). The word that has replaced it is, epic. At first I thought this word to be acceptable. But, it has become yet another boring 4-letter word. Why can't we have words longer than four letters like, "fantastical?" Or maybe something short like just, "Wow?" One of these days I am going to think of a buzzword to say that is uberly epic. Frick.

Tonight I got a message from a friend of mine who sent me a link to the comics I mentioned in yesterday's blog. This was both thoughtful and terrifying. It's nice when people can connect and share things but it's terrifying that people actually read this blog. I love my reader(s?!) but seriously, there must be something better to do with your time like crocheting, mastering a pottery wheel, wondering what toe jam is made out of exactly, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do with Gak as a child, staring at walls to see if it turns you psychotic, watching infomercials or creeping the people in the self help section of your local bookstore. But, if not, I am here for you. Well, I am here when I am not creeping the self help people.

Tip of the Day: Read Fart Party comix, all the time.

-Canadian Castaway

Failure, TV Chats, Boob Grabbing, Guinea Pig Shit

2010-08-23T23:41:00.000-07:00

Day 363

Tonight I was babbling on to my mother about the hard time I am having with the TV series I am creating. Her response, "I just don't see you writing comedy." If that wasn't enough, I had to write to my advisor that I suck and couldn't get something handed into her by the deadline. And then, to top it all, I looked at one of Fox's new shows for the fall line up and it has two characters that are similar to the ones I am developing and another character that has the exact same name as one of my main characters AND is playing the same role. If I don't lose faith now I may be insane. I have never wanted to be crazier.

To wallow in my patheticness I drank wine and watched tv. Luckily, my writer friend was online. Her mother told her to be a barista when she said that writing a book is hard. The best part of my day was swapping insults regarding the Miss Universe women. I have taken some thought to this whole chatting while watching television and I think that I no longer have time for any other sort of chatting. Well, except...

So, in an effort to take charge of my life and make up for awkwardness and to prove to myself that I don't actually have a crush on my exotic-looking Danish neighbor I asked him to hang out. He said, "absolutely :-)." wonder if that weird smiley face should scare me. Later we got to chatting and he asked me if I still wished to identify myself with being Norwegian and posted a link. I popped open the link and it was a cartoon of a Norwegian girl dressed in a Norwegian flag and a Danish flag-clad dressed person going up to her and greeting her by grabbing her boobs. A few panels down the Danish dude describes that grabbing boobs is how you greet a Norwegian.

After I stopped laughing I wrote, "your people are very friendly." He wrote back, "Uh, you didn't answer the question, so I am going to take that as a yes." I wonder if he will grab my breasts? I wonder if he is a creeper? I wonder if he only grabs one of my breasts considering I am only of Norwegian descent. Guess, we'll wait and see. What I wonder even more so though is how did he come across that cartoon? Did he look up, "Norwegian breasts?"

Guinea Pig Day 3:
So my friend has me checking in on her bite-y guinea pig while she is away visiting my glorious country for a week. Today I went up there and found that the guinea pig is alive and seemingly well despite the carrots I gave it yesterday. I did notice that there is a ridiculous amount of shit in it's cage though and her place smells like a barnyard. The good news is that it's not dead. I hope the little fucker doesn't eat too much of its own shit and die. Five days to go. How much more could that thing shit in five days?

I am watching the Canadian version of MTV2. It's the one that actually plays music videos. I can't believe that The Barenaked Ladies and The Goo Goo Dolls are both making comebacks. And what is with that Lights bitch running around like a demented 4 year old with a paint set? What is with all the terrible lip-synching in these videos? That is what they should include in the Grammy's: "Worst Lip Syncher in a Music Video." There are a few other categories I could add as well like: "Person Who Steals From Lady Gaga's Look the Most" or, "I Let My Boyfriend Beat Me Up and Then Forgave Him" or, "Holy Shit, Britney is Still Here" or, "Wait, You Are a Boy and Not a Lesbian?!" or, "Comeback? You Had a Career Before?" just to name a few.

Tip of the Day: Never put yourself in the position to have to clean up a rodents shit.

-Canadian Castaway

Of Clothing Optional Beaches and Videostores

2010-08-22T18:47:00.000-07:00

Day 362

Today the library was closed so I did what any loser would do, I bitched about it via my Facebook status update. I wrote something like, "the library is closed what am I supposed to do?!" Then I got a response from a guy in the United States suggesting that I go to the beach. Even though I live extremely close to one of Canada's most wonderful beaches, I hadn't thought of that. So, I ambled, cautiously down the 500 stairs to get to the clothing-optional beach. Here are some of the things (hee) I saw and did:

-The most gorgeous man in the entire world was there looking tanned and tall and dreamy. He took off his short and laid down, putting a shirt over his face to keep from the sun. I had to nearly tie myself to a log to keep from straddling him.

-At the entrance to the beach stood a skinny, 62 year old hippie man who looked like he toured with the Grateful Dead. He was standing there, one hand holding a sign that read, "40 Years" while the other hand scratched his ass.

-While there are naked people all over the beach there are always only a few that decide to stroll along the waters edge. These are the showboat nudes. The only problem is, is that they do not have showboat bodies. But, I do give props to the old dude with the giant round belly promenading around today. I guess a perfectly spherical belly IS something to be proud of.

-I do wonder what the naked people at the beach do for a living. I am sure many of them own headshops, serve drinks, are unemployed, or work cubicle jobs. I can't help but wonder if any of them are priests or elementary school principals.

-There is always people walking around with what I think are called, "wakeboards." If a piece of sporting goods equipment hasn't been featured in a movie I don't know what it is. Anyway, turns out these people, set the board down, take a few steps, jump on, and glide for a few feet. Normally, watching this over and over again would be boring but normally one doesn't have the opportunity to watch wakeboarding in the nude. Namely, one doesn't have the chance to be hypnotized by the flopsy pork sword dance their junk does in the process.

-There were a few gutter punk-y kids sitting around naked drinking beers. One of them had a lamb (or possibly a baby goat) on a string. This prompted an old naked dude to start yelling, "Fuck you!" at the punks and mumbling to everyone else later about how lambs shouldn't be kept as pets.

Other than all of the above I pretty much just sat there with my exotically white calves exposed from my rolled up jeans writing letters to my aunt and reading about Julia Child and all of the food she ate in France. I do wonder though what my aunt will think when she reads my letter that describes the abundance of old naked men in my neighborhood. That'll give her something to share over fruit salad at the Ladies Bible Study.

Tonight after dinner I went with my geeky friend to the videostore. He is the type of person who when he spends 9.99 to rent unlimited movies for a month will go in EVERY DAY at least once a day. Anyway, tonight, in an effort to avoid working on my thesis and to get out of my room, I went along with him. When we were in the store I wondered aloud a couple times whether or not this particular store carried a certain movie and he could tell me with 100% accuracy and without looking if they did.

When we approached the counter the teenage boy working made a remark like, "Ohh, you again." My friend proudly announced to him that he had gotten me to come along and that I had agreed to get a 9.99 a month deal. The guy behind the counter made a show of high-fiving my friend. After we left I realized that they probably never expected that the guy who rents at least a movie a day would ever bring a girl in. I may be moviestore gossip for the next few days. I am sure they will all try to guess what the hell I look like and be pretty accurate in their assumptions.

Tip of the Day: Deli meat IS a drug. Get addicted. And then get the butcher's number.

-Canadian Castaway

Bad Crusher, Live Animals

2010-08-21T21:41:00.001-07:00

Day 361

The one year marker of me being in Canada is approaching. Do I feel more Canadian? The answer, truly, yes. Twice today I was approached by people asking for directions and I obliged, walking one woman all the way to her destination. Just last year I was the woman being led around. And now I must look local enough to be asked directions. I am using expressions that are Canadian like: whackload. I am even contemplating (and will probably get) a tattoo of a maple leaf. Damnit, I am a filthy Canadian. Okay, so Canadians aren't actually filthy, really. They are actually quite gorgeous. Shit, now I am even sticking up for them. Gabba gabba...

While I was out today I went to a coffeeshop to do work (translation: painstaking, line edits). While I was working I looked up to see that on either side of me sat single men and I tried to keep in mind a yahoo.ca news article that I read about how to get good-looking guys to approach you at a cafe. And, I realized that even though I was keeping busy and absorbed in my own stuff like the article said to do, I also realized that when I am absorbed in my work I am not making an approachable face. In fact, I am probably making the face of an old maid who is about to box the heads of the neighborhood boys who messed around with one of her 14 cats.

So, I may not have dated for quite sometime but I still have the instincts of my sixth grade self when it comes to liking a boy and not being able to express it. After I left the coffeeshop today I went to a nearby thriftstore where I found a silly mug with wolves on it and I bought it for a new neighbor of mine that I may have a crush on. I told him to come over and get it and when he did it was super awkward. I slammed the mug in his hand and was like, "Here!" He took it and we held an awkward conversation for 20 minutes or so with him standing and me sitting and me not even once thinking to offer him a chair. Then, instead of saying that I bought the mug because I was thinking of him I said, "Umm yeah, I was at a thriftstore today and picked that up it was cheap." Later, in an effort to end the torture of the encounter I said, "I have to go feed a guinea pig now." Maybe if I was the first grade me this sort of thing would work out better. The first grade version of me would chase boys just to kiss them. Why did I ever de-evolve?

Operation Keep Guinea Pig Alive Day 1:

While my friend is away I am in charge of her guinea pig. What can I say? I was feeling like an asshole and wanted to make up for it with a good deed. Anyway, I went in tonight and started talking to the little monster. The towel that she hides under wasn't all lumped up like usual or moving with her under it. The funny thing was that the first thought I had was, "That little fucker got out of the cage" instead of, "That little fucker is dead!" But, after I poured some food,, the fat little animal came out and even let me pet it without biting me. But, one semi-sudden movement later she went running to hide under her towel. I hope guinea pigs don't have weak hearts because I tend to make many dramatic, sudden movements. Man, I really don't want to kill the little bastard. Okay, so what I really care about is that I would have to tell my friend the little bastard is dead. Damnit, I hope I didn't overfeed it. I am scared for tomorrow...

That's pretty much all that happened today besides me avoiding actually working on anything and the fact that my brother made a horrid comment to the mug man on my facebook page as a joke and the mug man didn't get it and sent me a worried message. Not only did I scare the shit out of my latest crush, my brother did too. Good thing I already got the look of an old maid maybe I will just grow into it now.

Tip of the Day: Your mom will forgive you without words and sometimes you have to do the same.

-Canadian Castaway

Ugh, Stuff and Other Vaguely Important Nonsense (Oxy-MORON)

2010-08-20T22:28:00.000-07:00

Day 360

Watching "Say Yes to the Dress" is depressing on so many levels. Not only does it remind me that I am probably never getting married and may very well turn out to be one of those people they find decayed on the kitchen floor of my one bedroom shithole apartment with a drippy faucet, it also makes me feel like shit for wasting my time watching it. Not only am I witnessing that there are people in this world who spend 5,000 bucks on a wedding dress after having watched it I spend way too much time analyzing what these peoples lives must be like.

Okay, it's time to come clean: I am disgusting. The other day I bought a stick of chorizo, ate half of it and when I got home I put the remaining half in the fridge. Now when I open the fridge it smells like glorious meat and I never want it to stop smelling the deliciousness. Does this mean instead of putting baking soda in my fridge I am going to need to be replacing a sausage every week or so to keep up with it? Maybe I have found an untapped market. Maybe it's time to debut my meat perfume...

The majority of my day was spent at work. It was super busy and I had tons of tables and made quite a whackload (Canadian for: a lot) of tips. After I tipped out the bartender for his help he said that he was "curious" about how I tipped him. This conversation pretty much turned into a rant about how he thought I should give him more money. Then he jokingly (yeah right) said that he was glad I am not working next Wednesday when he is working. I really wish I didn't care about this whole thing. If once I could sincerely go through life ACTUALLY not giving a damn what other people thought about me that would be spectacular. I try not to show it but sometimes I care. The biggest waste of time in my life is bothering to read other peoples subtext.

When I got home I got the following text message from my mother: "IM REALY DISAPOINTED IN YOU AND (MY BROTHER'S NAME) NEITHER OF YOU CALLED YOUR DAD ON HIS BIRTHDAY." Not only does the bartender, whom I'd kinda like to be friends with think I am an asshole, my entire family thinks I am an asshole. And now I too am starting to think I am an asshole too. So, for my latest project and because I have experienced and gotten hung up on too many people being assholes I am going to try to live my life as though I wasn't an asshole and maybe, one day, it will happen. One day I will wake up in the morning and no one will be an asshole and everyone will wish their fathers Happy Birthday before 11:30 pm. I think I will get started by doing a good deed. Wait, do you have to actually interact with people if you are doing a good deed for them? Maybe I will just invent a pill to stop the assholedom and maybe I will call it ecstacy. Even if that doesn't work my brother's still an asshole so I will have some company.

My neighbor, one of the only pseudo-non-assholes around, is leaving tomorrow for a trip and has left me in charge of her dying plant, her more lively plants and her guinea pig. I wonder if I can keep any of them alive. Perhaps this is a good deed. Now, if only I can stop being a selfish asshole long enough to take care of her wild kingdom. I will do my best. That little, bite-y beast had better not bite me. The way my life has been going I expect the dying plant to be the only thing alive when the week is through. Updates to come...

Tip of the Day: Sometimes you have to hideout and think about eating bacon sandwiches and other things that are important.

-Canadian Castaway

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...

2010-08-20T01:13:00.001-07:00

Day 359

If I were the type of person to cry over my day I would be in tears. For the first time I realized that maybe I should drop out of the writing program. I am not sure if it was the wine or the way that I get treated or the fact that everything I write lately is shit and I am turning out like my dad (super negative and doesn't do much). I guess it doesn't really matter. Things kinda suck right now. The crazy thing though is that I cannot ever let myself get way down in the doldrums currents. I know that I am (relatively) healthy, I have people who care about me, and other good things in my life but sometimes I want to scream out all of the things that suck. Doing that would make me seem ungrateful and if there is one thing I learned from childhood is that being ungrateful is one of the worst things you can do. Which is why this blog entry is going to be super short, well, that and the fact that my cursor keeps jumping around like a little bastard. If I could I would shoot Windows Vista right in the eye.

I pretty much spent the day feeling guilty for not writing, trying to write, having it suck, and then checking Facebook and my emails. So, I pretty much spent the day doubting myself and hating everything except those tiny moments when someone would post something on my Facebook wall. It's sick. But here's the thing, those moments don't last and happiness doesn't come from Wall Posts. Damnit.

Tonight at supper I laughed when my friend re-told me the story about how the people in the building I live in don't really respect me. She once got into a fight with them when they told her, when I wasn't around, that she was crazy to be my friend. They may have been joking I told her. She told me that she gave them an earful about how I am a super caring person with a kind heart. Once again tonight these people proved that my friend was right, they are assholes. I brought two of them, one was the guy I have a crush on but have been denying having a crush so as to make it work out. (Fuck that, that is ridiculous) The other was a "friend" of mine from the building who, while we were waiting at the bus stop, got all friendly with an asshole from the building and then kept saying to just forget everything I said and not listen to me. Wow, maybe she didn't hear the speech about me being a kind-hearted person.

Okay, seriously that is all I got. Let's hope tomorrow is better. Tomorrow, when I avoid the assholes in my building and focus only on the people who see the kindness in me and turn to my writing projects with a fresh start. And, I tell my father, "Happy Birthday" and think about how I am like him, in good ways, not bad.

Tip of the Day: Wine doesn't help anything. Change helps.

-Canadian Castaway

Avoidance, Fire Alarm, Fashion, Bike Seats, Meat-y Men, Crushed, Put it on My Facebook!

2010-08-18T17:40:00.000-07:00

Day 358

So much of being a writer is avoiding writing. I can't tell you how many times I do stupid shit like go sit on the toilet when I don't have to go just to avoid sitting at my desk. I wonder if a toilet paper company would sponsor me. Anybody who says they are a writer who can sit down and produce work wonderfully ISN'T a writer. I never used to buy into that whole waiting for inspiration gag but at this point it is either believe in it or believe that I am a failure. So, in an effort to get out of my own head and avoid writing, I am writing this blog entry. I guess that means I am not avoiding writing. Maybe I should get a heated toilet seat.

Today was supposed to start off with me working on a script that I have due for this coming Monday. Instead, the day started with a fire alarm test. Not only did they test that the alarm sounded in the hallways, they also played the amazingly annoying screechy alarm in the rooms. After 20 minutes of that, I had to physically remove myself from the building. I went back after the alarm stopped only to discover that there was a round two of testing where a short man who winked at me came into my room and sprayed something that is supposed to smell like smoke but looks like air freshener at my antique smoke alarm and set it off. Then, he took a huge metal clipboard and started to fan the smoke away so that it would turn off. He kept bumping my Chinese glass hanging with the metal sheet while I waited for it to break. Now, how is a girl supposed to write after being violated like that?

I went and picked up one of my strange athletic hippie friends to tag along with me to get a bike seat. The first stop was a thriftstore that she surprisingly didn't want to enter. While inside I realized what I hate about fashion and people who are fashion forward. I hate how I see something and find it hideous and then someone (like my athletic hippie fashionista buddy) finds the same thing wonderful. For example, there was a purple sweatshirt with a photo of a deer on it and it read, "White Tail Deer" I looked at this find as an unfortunate piece of crap that was worn by a toothless kissing cousin at his wedding. While my friend looked at it as though it were a treasure. When she held it up to her and tried it on it looked fabulous. This makes me wonder if the necklaces I picked out are really just gaudy and boring non-fashion risk stuff.

When we finally got to the bike shop I found myself talking to this bad ass butch-y bike punk girl about how I want my ass to be comfortable on a bike seat. Turns out they didn't have any seats that were squishy enough. While I was talking to this girl I looked over at my White-tailed Deer sweatshirt-owning compadre and saw that not only did she find something awesome for her bike she was also talking to the hottest sales guy I have seen in years. Gawd, she gets it all, the fashion, the bike parts she wants, and the cute boys. I can't hang with this chick anymore, too depressing.

After the bike store we packed up her new bike part and sought out a gluten-free eatery where my friend could actually have a sandwich. Turns out that gluten-free buns aren't bad. But, I could pretty much eat cardboard if it were covered in ham and mayo. The craziest part of that adventure was that after we ate the gluten-free sandwiches we went next door to the Italian deli/meat counter. Where I was going to get a beef stick for dessert. And then, my hairy-legged, deer-sweatshirted friend got hit on by the cute butcher guy. On the walk back to the bus I decided that I SHOULD hang out with this friend and act as a sort of pimp for her. If I can get her to date the bike store guy maybe he could find me a puffy seat and if she dated the butcher I could get free chorizo. I am not even going to pretend that I am not a terrible person.

Thinking back over my blog entries (I don't read this shit) I notice that nearly everyday I have a crush on someone. Every one of these crushes so far has turned out to be a bust. There were no growing old sequences a la Up! in any of these men. So, I was going to keep my latest crush more secret so as not to jinx it. Shit, even saying I have a latest crush is mentioning him. Fuck. I suck at this. I really wanted this one to work out too. Oh well, I guess I will always have the memory of how he touched my arm today and I swooned and how it reminds me that I have a heart and that I am a huge loser. Great, now I can stay home and cry to Avril Lavigne videos some more. Ugh.

My favorite activity of the past couple of days is to wait until someone describes a song or a video to me and then when there is a pause say, "Put it on my Facebook." Then the next time I check my Facebook page I look to see who has actually taken the time to do so and laugh that they did. Then, I watch the video and wonder if they put it up right away because they really care or because they are bored. Then I start to think I should get a life but then I write comments on the videos and it feels like I have a life.

Tip of the Day: Don't give up. Falter but don't give up.

-Canadian Castaway

Of Legos, Gloryholes, Lazy Fingers, Glaciers, and Snappers

2010-08-17T20:11:00.000-07:00

Day 357

Today at breakfast, just like every other day when I drag my dead ass to breakfast wearing too much eye makeup, I read the horoscopes. It's not just me who wants to read the horoscopes anymore. Everyone wants to see what the alleged stars have planned for their day. It has gotten to the point where I know everyone by their zodiac sign and not there name. Today one of my new neighbors asked me what his sign meant and I told him, "A Capricorn is kind but also kind of a push over." On the walk back to my room I thought about what I had said and laughed to myself and then realized why I don't have a boyfriend. But, if my prediction is right and he IS a pushover HE could be my boyfriend.

So this morning I decided to get an attitude change. I decided that instead of being afraid of writing my script for my thesis that I was just going to start writing it. I know this sounds ridiculous. Anyway, I went to the library and snooped around the bottom floor, vaguely looking for signs of the gloryhole I read so much about on Craigslist. I didn't find it, once again. But, I did sit down and hammer out a vague outline for my show in one of the library carrels on a classier floor while listening to Owl City and hating the fact that other people were in the library. The bitch of it is though is that if there were no people in the library there would be no chance of their being a mysterious gloryhole that I can search for.

This afternoon a computer-y friend of mine went with me to look at Macs. For the longest time I have wanted one, mostly because I hear they start up without taking three days or having to be kicked. Fucking Vista. Also, I want one so that I don't have to panic about viruses all the time. Who knew that being a hypochondriac in real life leads to hypochondria toward your PC? Anyway, as my friend was telling me a bunch of boring stuff about computers I decided to try and type on a Mac. This was how I ended up with an HP--the type test. I typed on the MacBook Pro. "Nope, can't do it," I declared. My friend stopped his lecture and asked what was the matter. "The keys are too damn far apart and my fingers would have to stretch and it would be too much work, forget it. Let's go buy a planner." Guess, I'm not getting a Mac ever and I am doomed to have lazy typing fingers and waste years of my life watching my computer start up. Oh well, at least the viruses will give me something to worry about.

Tonight at supper I sat next to a guy from Denmark and we started talking about Legos and despite my brother having tons of them when we were kids and the fact that it has always been my personal dream to have a Lego pirate shit built for me I didn't know that they came from Denmark. I asked the Dane if he had been to LegoLand in Mall of America. He said he hadn't been but he'd been to the original LegoLand in Denmark. I then told him about my glacier theory.

Back when I was in the first grade we learned about the existence of glaciers and what they did to shape our world. But, I didn't buy into it, the 7 year old version of myself declared to the class that I didn't believe in glaciers. I didn't believe in them based on the fact that they were too hard to comprehend existing sheerly based on their size AND, more importantly, I had never seen one. Funny, I didn't also apply this thought process to Santa Claus. So, after I told the Dane this entire tale I added, "And therefore, I do not believe in this allegedly original LegoLand."

I just read an article on my favorite news source: yahoo.ca news. Usually, I read the articles because they have such ridiculous titles or pictures of goofy-looking aliens. Today's article was all about how to attract the attention of a man while you are out. It was seriously 8 tips on how to get him to come and talk to you. The tips included things like: smiling (at babies and children), dressing down, being alone, being really into whatever you are doing, going to libraries, and the biggest tip of all, don't expect anything.

The best part of this article though was reading the comments that were written to the author, keep in mind that each of these comments has a button that says, "Report Abuse" next to it. Here are my favorites:

"You like those under 23 guys don't you, you cougar!"

"Sorry but dressing down is definitely WRONG!"

"Color your Life @ Home & Office www.PhotcoArt.com."

And, my favorite: "lift your dress and show him your snapper."

Tip of the Day: Use the word "snapper" waaaaay more often.

-Canadian Castaway

Sick Sucks and So Does Marketing

2010-08-16T20:11:00.000-07:00

Day 356

I just got off the phone with my mother and she told me to not do anything and put a cool cloth over my head. She said this because earlier I was seeing spots at work. Immediately, my thought process was, "Ahh fuck, I knew I should've gone through with the glaucoma test. But damn, that bitch wouldn't stop poking me in the eye." When I called my mother, a registered nurse, she thought that maybe I had a low blood sugar and demanded that I eat all kinds of things and rest. This is the same woman who is always telling me to NOT eat lots of things and to get off my dead ass and do something.

Right now I am sitting in my room with the door to the corridor propped open to get some air flow through my hot box of a room. I am not sure what is more of a show, my neighbors looking in and hearing me laughing while watching Cake Boss or seeing the looks on their faces while they are watching and listening to me. Surprisingly no one has even said anything to me or came in to join me. I think I finally know what the crazy old lady on the block feels like.

As far as my day goes it was pretty boring and hot. And when it gets hot I get really whiny and crabby and exhausted. Luckily, I didn't lose my job today. I really couldn't get up the energy to even pretend to work. I can't remember a word I said to the customers or exactly what I said when I got super pissed off when I was counting the money. The thing I do remember is that there was a constant line of sweat on my upper lip and it was super gross and it made me want to move away.

After having watched a good couple hours of TV I have decided that I can always get into advertising. I mean seriously, how hard can it possibly be? I just saw a Werther caramels commercial and the final line was, "It's so good you won't just want one, you'll want more than one" or some such shit. Plus, I bet you get to eat tons of free Werther caramels for inspiration.

Alright I am off to watch more Cake Boss and do nothing. Well, maybe I could send my mother a "Thank You" card.

Tip of the Day: Buddy on Cake Boss describes his pregnant sister like this, "She's big, like a bread truck." I wonder if anyone else could say this about big people pregnant or not. Give it a try.

-Canadian Castaway

Hotness

2010-08-15T20:17:00.001-07:00

Day 355

And today's main excuse for not getting much done is...the weather? Okay so I am sure it was the weather because the fact that the only huge thing I have to talk about is the weather is evidence that it is messing with my head OR that I have really become that boring and unoriginal. But, it did prompt a guy on the bus to trade seats with me so that I would be out of the sun and we had a five minute conversation which then prompted 20 minutes of sweating next to each other in silence. Similar to picking up a one night stand in so many ways.

This morning I went out to meet a friend of mine in the only part of this city that feels like it is full of real people instead of yuppies. We went to an Italian deli counter and I had my first Italian sandwich. It was the most amazing thing ever, it was dripping with oil and vinegar and had an inch and a half of meat. If this is what being Italian is all about, sign me up. I swear I could learn the gesturing while I speak. Wait, is that racist?

The friend I hung out with today is a fellow writer, a successful one at that. And there we were two, pasty whities who normally sit in rooms attempting to write, out for a stroll in the heat. If it weren't for the sandwiches and ice pops I think we may have died. We aren't built for this kind of activity. Going outside for a lot of writers IS an extreme sport.

After the awkward silence with the stranger on the bus (see above) I got off the bus to rent a movie and when I stood up my jeans were soaked through and like the geriatric dementia-riddled 26 year old that I am I wondered, 'Did I piss myself? I honestly can't remember." I made it into the videostore where I realized that I am an annoying customer. I am one of those people who talk to videostore clerks about obscure documentaries for way longer than socially appropriate luckily I know better than to sit down with them and watch the films that they watch behind the counter but I have thought of it.

Other than my mother hanging up on me because I was too much of an asshole to talk to due to the heat I went to dinner this evening and a couple ridiculous things happened:

-One of the people at my table declared that the girl sitting next to me was to act as my older sister and hate all of my boyfriends. When I pointed out that I hadn't had any boyfriends lately he suggested my "older sister" set me up. Naturally, my older sister cannot hardly speak English and thus pointed to the boy next to me. A boy who has asked me out before and I have said no to. I looked at him and jokingly said, "I might have to date you." He didn't find this funny and left within minutes, silently.

-My new neighbor was sitting on the opposite end of the table from me and all of the people around him finished up their meals and left. I looked over and he looked so blonde and alone and like an idiot instead of just saying hello I said something ridiculous like, "Whoa, what the hell is wrong with you?!" It is really a miracle people talk to me. Maybe they just do it because they know I am not going away.

-The doctor-y guy on the other side of me said that in the past year he's done all sorts of crazy shit. To which I responded, "Oh yeah? Like what? Name just one crazy thing you've done this past year." "I have resuscitated people, that's pretty crazy." That shut me up, completely. Well, until I looked over at him and said that it is kinda like he has super powers and asked him if he wore a cape.

-The same doctor-y guy told me that the last two girls he asked out on dates turned out to be lesbians. Then he told me that he was looking for a group of lesbians to hang out with. I told him we'd get horses and lassos and go out and round up a few lesbians. Then he started speaking in a realistic cowboy accent. I think I may be in love. If only I was a lesbian he'd ask me out.

As much as I love my country I could never be president. For one, there are several people who know my real identity and this blog I am sure is not diplomatic in any sense. But, Americans respect humor and sometimes this blog may possibly border on funny OR the mere thought of me writing it is so pathetic it's hilarious. For two, I have done drugs. But, who hasn't, just look at the presidents of old it's practically tradition or a prerequisite. For three, too many people hate me. Wait, nevermind that may work out. It has been proven again and again that people hate the president. Wow, I guess I COULD be president.

Tip of the Day: Don't buy the licorice candy at the Italian: deli, even the not-so-hardcore kind unless you are more than experienced in the ways of licorice consumption.

-Canadian Castaway

It's Time for a Heart to Heart aka What I Think Writing Programs Really Teach You

2010-08-14T23:29:00.001-07:00

Day 354

Okay so maybe I didn't get chosen to write the blog for MFA Confidential but I am going to blog about what it means to be in an MFA Creative Writing Program. I am not going to splash flashy details about my day today like the fact that I saw a group of kids who are super into Anime today and were all dressed up in character playing a game where you kick a soda bottle and whomever it points to you have to hug. Alright, I just did but, now it's time for a heart to heart...

Last week I was asked to give a talk to incoming students about what it is like to be in the MFA program, what to expect and so on. It wasn't until tonight when I hung out with an infamous recluse in my program that I realized what I was going to say to these fresh kids. Here is what I have planned to tell them about my experience:

Being in the MFA program at first seemed like a whose is more clever contest but, you come to realize that stories aren't lasting because they have clever lines, stories that get remembered are build atop honesty and an understanding of the human condition. And guess what, I won't learn how to write honest, epic, lasting stories in the MFA program. In order to do that you must live your life and continue to write and write until you can one day break through whatever it is in young artists minds that make them resort to cleverness when you cannot get to what is real because it is too difficult.

I had a good time, for awhile. I got drunk and laughed and talked and felt like the entire purpose in life was to one up people and be a brassy darling. But then I realized that my time is my own. The reason they say "I spent the last hour..." is because time is a commodity. I know it's cliche but at the root of cliches are nuggets of truth. I spent much of my time talking about writing and little of my time actually writing. The thing about spending time is that I worried too much about how much of it I wasted. Lifetime isn't cash, you shouldn't keep a ledger of how it is spent in the past. I actually spent time worrying about how I was wasting it. But what I learned the most is that time is never wasted but it could be spent better. And, the only one holding the purse strings of your time is yourself.

I learned that if you are lucky you will build friendships that allow you to commiserate with your writer pals and have someone to talk to and inspire you when writing itself is too intimidating. I am very lucky. There are many people who inspire me and challenge me and people I love in the writing program. These people will keep me going through hard times and low spots (and cliched phrases) and their friendship alone is worth the amount of loan money I have on my head now.

From the talk with my friend tonight I was reminded that the program is what you make of it. I learned that so often in life we set ourselves up to fail and I learned that we don't have to do that. I also learned that these two years are practice. I mean sure, there is a chance you will write an amazing show that will get picked up and secure you employment but that is not likely and just knowing that should take the pressure off enough to enable you maybe write that series. I learned that when you hear the word "thesis" there is an immediate panic and dread until you say to yourself that it should be called, "practice" or better yet, "determined dedication." There is no word count taser that will zap your ass if you don't put out enough writing. Although, I wonder what would be produced if such a thing did exist.

Most of all I learned that this part of life is just like any other. It is all about the same shit life is really about. Life is really all about figuring out who you are and what you want and attempting to feed both. If you really want to grow as a person you will. If you really want to be a better person, you will. If you really want to become a writer you will and no writing program is going to do that for you, you are the only person who can do that for you.

Okay, so I am done. That is really all there is to being in a writing program. Well, that and if you are lucky there will be little meaningless functions you can attend with free cheese and a cash bar.

Tip of the Day: Kick the bottle and hug someone.

-Canadian Castaway

Scottish Men and Other Not So Exciting Adventures

2010-08-14T01:52:00.000-07:00

Day 353

On the long walk from the bus stop to home this evening I listened to my voicemails while apparently, walking through a movie set. The last message I heard was my mother saying, "You'd better be putting the pencil to the paper or doing something productive today!" My entire day was spent going to work at my now re-opened pub and going to a birthday party and drinking vodka. Don't you just love it when your mother calls.

This morning I went to breakfast and there were three spots to sit at. I chose the one by the new guy I didn't know. It was the right spot to choose. I am nutso in the morning, excited for no reason. I used to wake up everyone in my house dancing along to I Love Rock n Roll. Anyway, the new guy accepted and embraced my craze. I think he will make a good neighbor. That's pretty much all I have to say. Oh and I kinda want to kiss him but it'll probably pass.

Today I had my first shift back at the pub I was laid off from months ago. I am glad to say that it was boring. If it were anything but boring then things might have gone wrong and it would have been hell. Here are the top two absolute most exciting things that happened:

-I accidently gave myself a 1278 dollar tip. It caused a mayhem of managers calling Mastercard to ammend and I didn't get the tip.

-I chased crows. They were swarming the patio and I literally chased them and shouted at them and somehow, this behavior decreased my tips. I mean shit, what are people thinking? I am scaring away the birds that could swoop in and gobble up their club sandwiches, don't I deserve a LARGER tip not a smaller one?

When I finally made it to the birthday party, after passing through a film shoot and a carnival of people dressed as Sailor Moon, I had a pretty good time celebrating the other Emily's birthday. The birthday girl's best friend is a very attractive Scottish man. He is one of those people that American teen movies make you feel like you are too dorky to even be looked at by. Wait, they actually get the guy in the end... Well, I guess I got the Scottsman too, in a way. Sure he may have been talking to a bar glass as though it were a telephone and Tom Petty was on the other side but he did reach out and hold my hand while he did it. Well, he held it until I picked up my own bar glass and answered, as Tom Petty. A few minutes later he made out with his bar glass stating afterward that he made out with Tom Petty and because he thought I was Tom Petty I guess that means we made out. Wow.

Because I am a loser and a geek I looked up my "Daily Singles Horoscope" (come on, it's right next to my regular one). Most of it was the same old shit. The whole bit about being super self-empowered and blah, blah, blah. But, the last line was the best thing I have read in a horoscope lately. It said, "Try not to act too surprised when the hotties start falling at your feet and your rivals look on in frustration!" I'd like to point out that that I didn't embellish the exclamation point, it was there. I wonder if I'll get to pick which hotties fall on my feet or if I will kick them.

I am super tired and too old to see 3 am again. So I am off to dream of hotties and drunken Scottish men who aren't Craig Ferguson.

Tip of the Day: Be nice and if you think you are nice enough be a little bit nicer even if it is just a social experiment.

-Canadian Castaway

Seinfeld Hater, Positive PMS, Nice Guy Repellent, Hopefully Mold, Waiting to Wait

2010-08-12T20:08:00.000-07:00

Day 352

I will never be the type of person who actually likes Seinfeld. I have tried but there is just something about Jerry and Elaine that make me feel like I am being yelled at. I mean sure, I loved when Kramer made a salad in the shower and you'd have to be an asshole not to sort of like the idea behind the soup Nazi refusing people soup. But, overall if that show is on I would rather watch the weirdo space channel movie that has aliens wriggling in human bodies. But, I feel guilty. I feel like I should love a show about nothing but I guess I am just looking for a little something when I turn on the TV.

Another TMI moment: So, all day I was moping around thinking about how I am never going to get my original series pilot written and how everything sucks but right after I said the words "Meat Sauce" to the cook I was hit by an emotional wave of PMS but this time it was a good trip. I thought to myself, "What the hell are you bitching about? You have it pretty good. You have food and friends and a show to work on. You got into a program that well over 100 people got rejected from when you got in so shut the fuck up already, eat your meat sauce and be happy, shithead." This euphoria of positive thinking didn't last too long, by the time I got to the table I was kvetching about how there are no Target stores in Canada and how much it sucks and how expensive everything is here.

At supper somewhere between the Canada sucks rant and the ironic fact that I am getting a Canadian tattoo the bruise I have on my arm came up in the conversation. I explained to my friend who had been out of town that I had crashed my bike, Elliot and that he got kinda banged up. She expressed concern and I told her not to worry that a guy in our building had fixed him. At the mention of his name a guy at our table perked up and did the whole, "Oh, (insert guy's name here) fixed your bike huh?" in that tone that says, "Ooo maybe he likes you!" or, "What's going on there?" I tried not to blush and blew off his comment and tried not to actually think that he does like me. I would say that I hope he likes me but I don't want to jinx anything. Damnit, now I have gone and jinxed it. Oh well, I wouldn't know what to do with him if he was in like with me. Or maybe he doesn't like me at all, maybe he and Elliott are having an affair! Sure, a nice guy comes along and he goes and falls in love with my bike. I swear I was born with a nice guy repellent on me that you can't wash off.

Yesterday I was loitering outside of the library reading John Waters latest book. In his book there is a section that includes a tiny passage about perverts and "upper decking." Translation: when you shit in the top of someones toilet tank. For months now there has been a smell coming from my bathroom and awhile ago I lifted my toilet tank cover off and saw brown stuff in it. I tried to ignore it. And even today as I had my yellow rubber gloves on and was spraying bleach cleanser in my toilet tank and scrubbing at the brown matter I tried to convince myself that it wasn't someone elses shit in there but, I never fully tricked myself into thinking it was just some weird mold. And for the first time in my life, ever, I was upset with John Waters.

Tomorrow I go back to work at the pub job I used to have, except now instead of bartending or working the floor (picking up glasses and ID people) I have to wait on people. Yeah, that's right. I have to go around and still get glasses and ID people but now I have to take their orders and bring them drinks and actually talk to them. I would be a liar if I said that I hate waiting tables. Over the years I have actually gotten to be quite good at being the bitchy waitress (I was born to bitch). But, what I didn't think of when I told the new manager that I would love to be a waitress was that being a waitress and having a good time to me usually means waiting on middle-aged people who laugh at my jokes, not drunken 19 year olds trying to hide the fact that they are so high their eyes can't stop bobbing. I am doomed.

Tip of the Day: It's only mold. It's only mold. It's only mold.

-Canadian Castaway

Long Days of Summer (Bitching and Walking and Bitching Again)

2010-08-12T00:14:00.000-07:00

Day 351

Can I just go on the official record and say that I hate, hate, HATE pretty writers. It really pisses me off that they can be clever AND beautiful it doesn't seem possible. The really brilliant ones must have asses covered in boils, have been hideous children who through the miracle of surgery came out gorgeous, or at the very least have some sort of herpes that afflicts them near constantly. I wonder if the lady who got the confidential blogger gig I wanted was a pretty lady. I suppose I could hate her for getting the position but I more so hate that I found out I didn't get the position not by a rejection but by going onto the website and reading her charming little bio.

This evening I met up with a very innocent (never been kissed) friend of mine and told her the history of my sex life, in detail. A short story. She listened but when I started to talk about masturbation she literally squirmed. But, she did enjoy the rate-the-hotness-of-the-stranger passing by game. But, it could have been she enjoyed it because it was the only part of the evening when I wasn't yelling hysterically via cellphone into her ear.

So, earlier in the evening, my friend told me to meet her at the beach that I had met her at once before meaning, the time I was pissed off and just stopped by super fast to say hello and left in a huff. When I got to the beach (23 minutes late due to a talk about Evangelicals at the dinner table) I called her up and told her that I had just arrived and was heading out to the spot I remember last meeting her that horrid day. She told me that she had walked down a few blocks, which would've meant she was right near where I was had I correctly remembered where I had stomped off in a huff months ago. So, after many expensive minutes had passed we finally found out that we were both indeed by volleyball games, basketball courts and restaurants at the same time it's just that these things happened to be two miles or so apart.

Is it evil that I love that the hottest friend of mine on facebook hasn't gotten a message on his wall since Tuesday? Or is it super pathetic that I know he hasn't gotten a facebook message and am really just mad at him for not returning my texts? Either way I am going to go with him being a dickhead loser so I guess it really doesn't matter all that much.

Alright I am too tired to keep my yesterdays mascara laden lashes apart or are they just sticking together? Shit. Anyway, the only other exciting moment of my day was when I discovered that in 1988 Quentin Tarantino played an Elvis impersonator on The Golden Girls.

Tip of the Day: Don't eat the jalapenos.

-Canadian Castaway

Last Days and Crushing Crushes and Bike Seats That Go Up Your Whoo Ha

2010-08-10T22:19:00.000-07:00

Day 350

Today was the official last day at the post office for me. I got a cupcake, only an hour after I asked my boss if she had bought me a cake. Then, as I was eating the cupcake, she said that everyone in the past week had gotten a cupcake from her. Then, she told me that one of the employees had an allergic reaction possibly from a cupcake she gave out. And to top it all off I didn't even steal the stamps I brought home. All in all, it totally sucked but when the latest Usher featuring some guy who also sucks song came on at work and I said, "I HATE this song, it makes me want to hit people" the hottest guy I have seen in quite sometime looked up from the envelope he was addressing and said, "Yeah, I know I hate it. It totally sucks."

So where I come from there are four seasons per year and I know that may sound nice to people who don't have four seasons but let me assure you it is just a sales tool. It is a way to cope with the fact that there are only maybe four lovely days weather-wise per year. What is weird is that coming to a nice climate from my background you will not be able to nap somewhere where they have nice weather. You will be lying in bed feeling guilty about wasting the beautiful day despite there being many of them per year where you are currently located and then you will go sit outside and read all afternoon silently cursing the niceness of the day for making you sit in sunshine instead of lie in bed dreaming about it.

I have a friend, okay, an obnoxious and evil neighbor who I sometimes hang out with to make fun of her accent and hope that her evil rubs off on me. Tonight we decided that since it was VAFN (vaguely Asian food night) at the rez I needed to run up to McDonald's for a cheeseburger. She insisted that we ride bikes and that she not order any food at McDonald's and, if that didn't make me feel fat enough, she also insisted that we ride our bikes all over, this includes going uphill, for fun (her version, not mine). After we got back I asked her if my mother was paying her. What I wanted to ask her is whether she was making me do all of this physical activity because she wants me to loose weight and be healthier or because she thought it was hilarious.

The pathetic saga of the guy I used to have a crush on, got ditched by and still kinda like continues. This time I ran into him just after my friend and I got back from the bike ride. Translation: I was sweating and smelly. He told me and my friend that he found out his bike had just been stolen. Then I asked him if I could borrow a wrench to adjust my seat and asked if he still needed to borrow my nailpolish. When he returned with the wrench and the bike that needed nailpolishing (I still don't get that) he had in his free hand an extra bike seat that he brought for my bike because my seat has a hole in it. And then I watched him put it on for me. Well, watched him while telling him which way he had to turn the tool to get the bolt loose. Note: I had the lowest score possible on the mechanics portion of standardized testing I had to take as a child. Anyway, later I realized that I am so far removed from dating right now that I would not be able to tell if giving someone a bike seat is being nice or a way of hitting on someone. Is this how the kids are picking each other up these days? Interesting.

I just saw a stool softener commercial that starred a middle-aged woman. I wonder if she has been working her whole life to become an actress and this was the only part she landed. I also wonder if she is extremely proud of her constipated role or if she finds it hilarious. I wonder if part of her pay was some product samples and I wonder if she used them. Wow, I have no life and I am a sicko. I am such an overachiever it makes me sick.

Tip of the Day: Read.

-Canadian Castaway

Productive Front Moving In and Last Day?

2010-08-09T23:17:00.000-07:00

Day 349

Sometimes I get to the point of not wanting to go on with anything and being completely overwhelmed then I realize I am sort of acting like my dad, my period is coming, and that it's pointless to do nothing at all. Here is some of the stuff I did today:

First off I went to breakfast, ate way to many tater tots and then went to what I thought was my last day of work at the Post Office. Actually, I thought Friday was my last day and then I volunteered to come in today and so I thought today was my last day and then I got asked to cover tomorrow. I am not sure when I became wishy washy or a sucker but I know that it must end. Well, to be quite honest, working at the Post Office when you just don't care is sort of addicting. I am nicer to the customers and I can make my own schedule and every time I go in I am doing someone a favor. Okay so tomorrow is really my last day...my friends are making me quit now.

Today I realized that not all of my ideas suck. This may sound like a small feat but its like pulling the sword out of the stone. Okay, bad comparison, I still don't understand how the fuck it's even possible to get a sword actually stuck in stone. Anyway, I realized that my characters are good, that TV is crazy hard to do, and that I can do it. (I think) My friends and my mother seem to think I can do it, I might as well join along with this thinking.

I must have been in a real good mood working on my storylines because when my friend found me on chat and went on a depressing rant I actually said positive things instead of commiserating. Wow, what a little faith in yourself doesn't do. Although it would've been nice if I could've squeezed in somehow the fact that I would like my friend to get rid of her fleas before I see her but somehow that didn't sound positive.

The rest of my day was spent doing laundry and thinking about cleaning my toilet and thinking other things like:

-Why did the creeper guy in my building say the word "province" but mean "state" and then laughed all giddy-like when I corrected him as though he'd made a huge joke.

-Wondering why the fuck the creeper is married? And then thinking, all married people are creepy.

-Is there another class of sexuality? Instead of asexual can you be bored-sexual?

-Why the fuck is it that whenever I have other friends named Emily they are cuter than I am? Okay, so I don't want an answer to that, I just want them to be less cute and me to be the cutest.

-Is the most annoying thing in the world when your friends all are talking on and on about a movie you haven't seen?

-What does it mean when you look at your own facebook likes and laugh? I mean seriously, I know that I like Wham! but it is totally hilarious.

That is all I got for today. Yeah, not too exciting. Actually, there is more but I am getting super bored even thinking about it.

Tip of the Day: Using Kraft singles as bread for your meat slices is a brilliant idea. I mean who knows it could be that the chemical make up of Kraft singles is closer to that of bread than of real cheese.

-Canadian Castaway

Becoming Your Parents and Quitting Your Job and Other Things

2010-08-08T21:41:00.000-07:00

Day 348

So you ever have those super cliche moments when you realize that you have become your father or mother? I just had one of those and it was terrifying. Don't get me wrong my parents are hilarious assholes and I wouldn't mind having my mother's wit or my father's originality but when I started to realize that I spend all my time either doing nothing or bitching about doing nothing and being too overwhelmed to move on it makes me want to vomit. So instead of setting goals about what I'd like to accomplish I think I am going to do the reverse (set goals of what I don't want to accomplish) because on a lot of levels it is harder and if I can accomplish being the person I DON'T want to be I will be the person I do want to be. Maybe. I guess if it works I could change the lives of tons of high school kids who are told to write life goals and maybe they wouldn't have to spend their first years of college gaining thirty pounds, contracting STDs and getting wasted trying to figure out what goals they want to set versus setting goals of what they don't want to be. Nah, fuck that they'd still drink their faces off. But, they might be better people while doing it.

So, I just turned on the TV to find the scene from Titanic where Jack draws the bitch. And then the scene fades to the older version of Rose and she tells them that they didn't have sex and that it was the most erotic moment of her life. My reaction: laugh while I turn it off. The first memory I had of this movie was the last time my family went to the movies together. The funniest part of that was that though we went to the movies together the show was sold out and we were all seated in different parts of the theatre next to strangers. I found this rather humorous as a disgruntled pre-teen who didn't want to attend a movie with my parents, ever. Over the years I would throw myself against things and say, "Jack! Never let go Jack" including one time not even a year ago when I did this on a pier, giggling my ass off. I guess Titanic movie has been one of the most consistent forms of hilarity in my life. I think I should feel bad about this but instead I am going to be grateful for it.

At supper this evening I was talking to a Canadian friend of mine and at one point I said, "Remember that time I said, 'Fuck you' to you, twice?" "Umm, no. You say that to me all the time." "No, that one time when I really meant it?" He just gave me a blank stare. Instead of feeling bad for cursing at him I thought, "Oh shit, I am using the same curse words so often that they have lost their meaning. What the hell am I supposed to say to him now? I am so unoriginal. How about, 'Sod off, cocksucker?' No, that doesn't sound right."

Want to hear a pathetic story? One of my neighbors I used to have a crush on wants to borrow some nailpolish to patch up the paint of his bike (so he says). He said he'd stop by after dinner. I went out to the grocery store after dinner but made sure to text him and tell him that I was going to be gone for quite awhile but back later and to text when he wanted to come over. While I was at the store I bought a new candle. I think I was trying to tell myself it was because my old one was nearly spent and my room could use one. But, my secret motivation was that it would smell nice for him. Yeah, it has come to that. I am trying to woo the guy who wants to borrow my nailpolish. Thank God I find that funny or I would have to find an apartment with a bathtub to slit my wrists in and I couldn't afford one of those in this city.

SIDENOTE: He didn't show up or text and the candle smells vaguely like an old lady.

Tomorrow is my last day working for the Canadian Postal Service. I am terribly excited but I fear it will be another horrible day. But in a certain way I would like to postpone my last day. I know, it sounds insane but now I am in a place where they almost can't really fire me. I can do whatever I want. I no longer care about the job or have a huge threat of being fired. It's amazing. I feel like Peter on Office Space except I am not going home at night to watch Kung Fu with my sweetheart. Damn.

So I just watched a clip on yahoo.ca news about the Tibetan mastiff dog that is selling for half a million bucks in China right now. The American Kennel Club representative in the video when asked if they were a good family dog went on for a bit about how loyal and protective they are and then added, "They are so smart they get bored." If it is true that you have to be smart to get bored then I must be VERY smart.

Tip of the Day: Be like your parents in a good way just make sure you don't be your parents.

-Canadian Castaway

The Top Six Reasons I Didn't Do Shit Today

2010-08-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

Day 347

The following is a list of why I didn't accomplish anything of significance today:

6. There was a Gene Simmons Family Jewels marathon on TV when I was eating breakfast. I didn't know it would last past 3 pm. And, I have vowed to not be a quitter. Plus, Nick is hot and I just had to see Gene's face after the plastic surgery! Damn, who knew I'd have to come all the way the way to Canada to be the girl who wastes her day watching celebrity reality TV shows. Oh well, at least it wasn't an Intervention marathon or I'd be both a loser AND super depressed.

5. I tried to get my act together after 4.5 hours with the Simmons family. I called my mother and told her to yell at me to be productive. She did, with glee. She always says, "Put the pencil to the page!" Which is funny for so many reasons. Anyway, in an effort to get going I headed out of the house to procure a late lunch and possibly some wine. Turns out the drizzle outside was the type that lasts all day and coats you when you walk to the point of an umbrella really just being a way to pick out the fools easily. (I was one of them) So, I cursed the weather for making me not do anything besides watch TV.

4. I can't help that I bought the new John Waters book, it should really be a requirement for every American misfit to worship him. I am just doing my civic duty to promote and be a part of freak culture. And, can I really help it if I am addicted to how he is addicted to observing and writing about the bar subculture of Baltimore where at one time there were interesting strippers roaming around like Lady Zorro and guys who bit each others noses off. Besides Mr. Waters is getting on in age now and who knows if he'll ever write another book. Although if there were ever a person on this planet who had the potential to be immortal and ridiculously productive at the same time it would be him.

3. So, while I was probably surfing Facebook and avoiding writing I noticed that a routine scan had been performed on my computer and that there were 6 infections only 4 of which had been treated. According to AVG my boyfriend (my computer, I am a sad sack) had two viruses and they didn't even have pretty names like chlamydia. I panicked and called people I know who are good at computer stuff and hollered at them for help. (Note: This approach is horribly rude and doesn't work well and makes people you love feel like they are just your playthings. Don't do it. EVER.) Finally, I got my neighbor to come down and she helped me install more software and catch another virus and find that the two viruses I had caught in the first place were what the tech-ies call, "false positive" identifications. If it wasn't for my neighbor I would've bought a Mac today just to spite my computer for getting viruses with long, ugly boring names even if they were false positive.

2. And then there was LA Ink. I really don't give a shit about that show and don't even have any tattoos myself. It must have something to do with the fact that I knew that most of my day had already been wasted. Again, I am not a quitter and once I start being lazy... But, when the marathon of episodes repeated an episode I really (no matter what kind of day I was having) should've known better.

1.The number one reason I wasted my day though was really just because I am a lazy bastard sometimes. My advisor in the Creative Writing Department is always saying, "You have to trust the process." Once, just once, I wish she'd say, "And sometimes that means doing absolutely nothing but watching shit TV all day and eating pretzels."

Tip of the Day: If you are lazy make sure you either have a soft, comfortable chair or a horribly hard one.

-Canadian Castaway

Horribleness and Things

2010-08-07T00:40:00.000-07:00

Day 345

Today sucked. Big time sucked. Okay so it wasn't that bad I went to the doctor and found out that the foot injury I thought I had was nothing at all (for now at least) and I also took Elliott (my bike) in to get his damage from my crash assessed and it turns out that he too is just fine. Well, he's just fine aside from the fact that when my mechanic handed me a wrench and told me how to adjust the seat I couldn't do it and was too ashamed to ask for help. It was a weird angle to put in the wrench, I guess... And, I probably not only have my job back at the pub I probably have a job there that I am better at. So I guess the only truly shitty part of my day was when I went to work at the Post Office.

So, I am quitting the Post Office and today was supposed to be my last day (but I am working on Monday). Here is a laundry list of the shit that went wrong:

-I got bitched at about not closing a door when the post office closed the night before. Seriously? The door was internal and any criminal dumb enough to break into a Post Office thinking there is tons of money in there deserves to get in as he is clearly a creative (if not entirely wrong) thinker. Plus, it'd be funny if they went to all of that trouble just to get some nickels and stamps that he couldn't use as they are outdated.

-My computer wouldn't let me delete an item, my co-worker yelled at me for trying to help a customer not have to wait forever by moving them to her register and then some woman was swearing at me. I helped her out and she didn't even apologize.

-At the last second a man with two huge, unpacked boxes wanted to mail them and I had to perform a shitty money transfer for someone who was probably a drug lord.

-The till I was on only had about 30 bucks to take out at the end of the night. I have no idea what happened to the rest of what should have been there but I bet I will get blamed for it being missing.

-If all that weren't ridiculous enough the gate that closes the Post Office was broken so we had to call security to come and fix it.

I am seriously thinking I might fall ill come Monday and spend my last day of work in that shit pit not there. Anywhere but there, scrubbing my toilet even sounds sort of appealing.

Today a friend of mine in the writing program asked why I write my blog. I told him a couple different answers including that it was something to do outside of schoolwork and that it was therapeutic. The truth is, is that there is nothing I do everyday besides breathe that comes close to as ritualistic as this effing blog. My brother makes fun of me for writing it and he says he has only read like one entry (I bet that's a lie) and he mocks that everyone he knows has a blog and who cares and why don't we just get a diary and shut the hell up. Maybe he's right but, I don't really care.

Tip of the Day: Drink water and be nice to people who aren't assholes if you can find any.

-Canadian Castaway

Earwax, Assholes, French-Laced and Other BS That May or May Not Involve Sloths

2010-08-05T21:41:00.000-07:00

Day 344

I would like to dedicate this blog entry to the guys at Mythbusters whose picking out of earwax to make a candle was so disgusting that I gagged and actually turned off my television. Here are a few waxed-up nuggets of my mediocre day:

-At breakfast I got there just in time for them to run out of crappy sausages. And, because for some fucking reason, today was a no egg day, I had to go without eggs AND meat. Then I realized that in the past six months I have went from devout vegetarian to violent meat-aholic. When the vegetarian at the table went on a rant about how I should not eat meat anymore I wondered what his arm would taste like with BBQ sauce.

-I read a teleplay (old school for TV script). My advisor has given me two scripts from her collection of random peoples scripts to check out. While I was reading the script I was pretty impressed with the quality of writing and yet I thought to myself, 'It's good, but it's not good enough to get produced. You need to write slightly better to make it onto TV.' When I was done reading it I IMDBed the author of the script, turns out that the script was turned into a series on a prime time network. So, I went and bought the first (and so far only) season on Itunes and I have no idea why.

-Yesterday a few fellow residents of my building and I were discussing what everyones spirit animals were. Mine was a howler monkey. The guy next to me looked at me and I screamed, "Sloth!" And, he totally was a sloth. I have never ever seen someone who looked more like a sloth and I have actually dated a guy whose nickname was "Sloth." I mean shit, my mother pretended to be a sloth on a regular basis while I was growing up. But after my friends and I agreed that he was a sloth he said, "What is a sloth?" I told my friend at the table that when he looked it up online we would get an earful. And today I did get an earful about how they were odd-looking creatures and, "Is that what I look like to you?!" When my friend showed up, the one whom I had made my prediction to I told him that I had received an earful, his response..."Well, there is really nothing he can do about it. He totally is a sloth."

-Okay, so I am not going to lie: I hate Facebook chat. So many of the friends I want to talk to are on there but there is always a few that message me constantly when I am just about to do something else. And, when I tell them later that I am sorry for not replying (which, I am not really because I don't think you should HAVE to reply to everything) they say they don't forgive me. Well, I don't forgive you either sometimes. I mean, fuck, how selfish can you get? Okay, so maybe I AM wanting them to do what I want by going along with my idea of acceptable chatting expectations of conduct but still, you don't know if I have just fallen off my bike, yelled at the guy I like, and am busy online trying to see what the hell is wrong with my best friend's mother so I am console her. Just back the fuck off before I remember how to unfriend you.

-There is something that I will never understand about Canadians. Why the fuck do they always throw in a little French when they are trying to impress me? Seriously, I know I do not ever reveal my location in this blog (I am a paranoid freak who is too cowardly yet to be who I really am online) nevertheless, I reside pretty effing far from Quebec. Am I supposed to be impressed that in a country where everything is in English and French that its inhabitants know a little French? As in a little, as in, not enough to make it the everyday spoken language in these parts. Damnit, that makes my ridiculously patriotic blood race.

Tip of the Day: Go wash your nasty parts and while you're at it clean out your ears.

-Canadian Castaway

Bitchery Badge and The Elliott Accident

2010-08-04T21:32:00.000-07:00

Day 342

Today was my first full day back in Canada. I realized that many of the people who inhabit this ridiculously friendly land are super good-looking. While this is great for the eye candy aspect, after so long everyone is just everyone and no one seems that hot anymore. Whereas, in the U.S. (particularly the Midwest) there are lots of mediocre to awful-looking people. These people make you feel good about yourself AND are more interesting to look at.

This morning I went out to buy a daily planner with my friend. As I was looking through the shitty horizontal day-type bullshit planners I was bitching to him about their design. He listened and laughed and finally said, "This is what I missed about you when you were gone: your ability to bitch about anything." I have decided to take that as not only a compliment but an observation of my super power that will help me take over the world.

The pub I used to work at got shut down quite awhile ago due to serving minors who then fell off of a rooftop garden and tattled that they got drunk at our establishment. Today there was a meeting with our new manager about getting the place back open and his plan to make it better. I wanted to hate him so badly. Turns out not only is he super smart, he has been a bartender for decades and seems to understand and care about where we are coming from AND he isn't a perv or a know-it-all, or unfair in anyway. Whatever will I bitch about? I will have to go out and get a hobby now. Fucking-A, I don't want to take up needlepoint.

It finally happened today: I crashed my bike. I had my new giant red handbag on my shoulder and then it fell to my arm and then it fell to the handlebars and just as I was about to pull over to adjust it, it caught in the spokes and I wound up with throbbing palms, scrapped knees, and a bruised arm. Not only was I injured, Elliot (my bike) was injured as well, his handlebars were bent almost 90 degrees. There are a two things I have thought of since:

-Did I hit my head and I am in a concussive state right now and is that why I am so tired?

-The guy who stopped to help me asked me, "Are you hurt?" I told him I wasn't and shooed him away. What if he was supposed to be my hero? Sidenote: At supper this girl laughed and said, "Your hero, really? Would you seriously want your hero coming up to you and asking, "Are you hurt?" I thought about it for a sec and replied, "Actually, yeah, that is exactly what I would want him to say."

At supper the cooks felt bad for me so they gave me a beer on credit. Drinking beer was all I wanted to do since I got into my accident but I couldn't make it to the liquor store. During supper (perhaps due to a concussion or beer) I got a bit surly and turned to the doctor-type guy that I sort of have a crush on, looked him right in the eye and asked, "Are you actually a nice guy or are you an asshole?" He didn't respond with a specific answer, guess he must be an asshole.

Another guy in my building whom I had a crush on came to my aid when he heard that Elliott was broken and thus proved himself to not be an asshole without me even having to ask. I told him that the bike was broken and he came right over to look at it, assessed the damage, and declared, "I can fix that." Then, he rode off on what I thought was a test drive and I waited and thought, 'Gee, he must really like riding Elliott." And then I waited some more and thought, 'Gee, wouldn't that be hilarious if he stole my bike?!' Then I waited some more. Then I called him and he didn't answer and then I didn't think the idea of him stealing my main man was hilarious at all. Finally, he showed up and he had gone to get tools to fix Elliott so I felt kinda awful when I had said, "Where the hell were you?!"

Well, I am off to bed as tomorrow is my second to last day at Canada FUCKING Post. Wish me luck and the ability to not curse out customers.

Tip of the Day: What does it make you if you get your life advice from watching Gene Simmons's Family Jewels?

-Canadian Castaway

Back in Canada--A Travelogue Entitled: Chronicling Disaster

2010-08-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

Day 341

I made it back to Canada today. It only took about 12 hours as I decided that it would be cheaper to fly and then take a bus and then take a cab. It wasn't. And now I am exhausted. Not only did I find out that there is a training session I am supposed to be at at the pub that I used to work for and am going back to, I also was supposed to work today at the Post Office. I guess I would care more if that job didn't make me want to get a sawed-off shotgun and it wasn't my last week. Regardless, I am an extremely tired fuck up so here is a quick version of the travels I went on today.

The Plane:

-The gate changed and no one announced it so I was looking out the window and at the empty gate area thinking, "Awesome, I am so going to have a row to myself." I looked to the other side of the terminal to see a horde of people boarding and thought, "That sucks for them! Suckers!" That was my line.

-In order to catch my bus I thought it would be wise to get a seat in the front of the plane. I went up to the counter to get my seat changed and the staff informed me that the plane was overbooked and there was absolutely not way that I would be able to change seats. Then they added, "Unless you want to sit on someones lap." I said, "Do I get to choose the lap?" Apparently, this wasn't funny to them and I hadn't really intended it to be, I was serious.

-The old guy next to me wearing short-shorts fell asleep and started snoring and then he elbowed me in the side in his sleep but I couldn't bring myself to wake him up.

-Being as the lap policy was a no go I had to wait until row 45 unboarded. I made sure to whine to my neighbors about it, curse under my breath, and even call my mother to bitch about how I may not make the bus. I did all this even though I could catch the next bus without issue, well, except that I would have to wait 3 hours. Looking back on it I realize that I am the same kid who cried at her own birthday party when she didn't win pin the tail on the motherfucking donkey. Damnit that elusive ass that never leaves me.

The Bus:

-So, after running through the terminal, finding out my pants fall down when I run, and gathering my bag I raced to the bus. And, not only did I make the bus I was greeted with a smile from the hottest guy I have seen in a long time. Then I tried to joke with the bus driver who didn't like jokes or me or both. Then I asked him if I could get off on a certain stop and he didn't answer my question.

-The bus smelled like piss. You'd think I would expect this but I never do. But, it was a good way to talk to the hot guy. "Does it smell in here or is it just me?" Fuck, he could've thought I meant that I smelled! No wonder we didn't really chat.

-So, I am a creeper. Not only did I watch the hot guy sleep, I took a sneak photo of him with my cellphone camera. I did feel kinda bad about it but then again I am sure everyone has taken a sneak photo, right?

The Cab:

-The cab was boring except when I was trying to decipher what the cabbie was singing to himself (no fucking idea), when he was reading while driving. It was also mildly entertaining when he pretended to know where he was going and wound up getting directions from me because he couldn't use his GPS.

Home:

Wow, I am calling Canada home, weird. I went to supper for the first time in nearly a month. Turns out there was no room for me at anyones table so I sat alone, until the French girl joined me. Then a guy sat down who smells nasty like years of BO and he is kinda pervy. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say to me due to his accent and he seemed genuinely frustrated. So, in my post-traveling stupor, I sort of sucked up to him to make him less mad. It must be horribly frustrating to have English as your second or third language and to be unable to communicate or think someone is making fun of you (which for the first time in a long time I wasn't trying to be mean). Then he grinned at me and told me he was a vampire and wanted to bite my neck. Now I am really not sure what the hell is going on. What if he really is a vampire? More importantly, what if he thinks I am hitting on him and will now sit by me and try to talk to me all the time? What if I am incredibly vain?

Tip of the Day: Just because they are running a marathon of reality shows doesn't mean that you are in shape for a long term commitment, it takes training and focus.

-Canadian Castaway

Goodbye, Homeland

2010-08-02T12:41:00.001-07:00

Day 340

Today was my last full day visiting my parents in my home state. What did we do? Same shit we always do: fill bird feeders, eat lunch, and bitch. Although, there was a brief interlude where my father tried to lure the neighbor's dog, the dog my parents refer to as, "Dumb." He usually hangs around and peeps in the patio door window looking in to see if he can see his girlfriend, my parents' dog, Yoda. Yes, I named her and no I am not cool enough to be a Star Wars geek. Anyway, my Dad nearly got him to the door with a cup of water raised and ready to throw on Dumb's floppy ears but Dumb was too smart for him and he leered at my father and peed on the birdfeeder, twice.

Other than that I went out to a farewell dinner with my parents and little brother. The main topic of discussion was how my family members have abused animals. Here are a few highlights from the treasured family vault of animal cruelty:

-My dad threw a giant canning kettle at a huge dog that wondered into the yard and it bounced of his head. He was stunned for a moment and then took off running.

-My mother just last week picked up the cat at the old folks home where my grandmother lives and petted her for quite sometime and just when she got comfortable on my mother's lap my mother pulled her tail, twice.

-My brother, when he was about three years old, went out to a farm with kittens. Here is the progression of his interaction with the kittens: 1. Threw rocks at them. 2. Kicked them. 3. And finally, picked them up and threw them.

-My mother used to shoot at a neighbor lady's cat with a bb gun. This cat shat exclusively in my mother's yard. One day the lady had a Tupperware party. During the party the cat rubbed up against everyone there except my mother. The cat hissed and bristled its fur. The owner said, "She never does that, she likes everybody, how strange." My mother turned to the cat and said, "Come here kitty, I love you."

After dinner my mother and I went home to pack my suitcase. There is nothing even mildly humorous about packing a suitcase. I wish there was...that may keep me up all night. Anyway, I leave tomorrow for a day of traveling. Hopefully, myself and my luggage make the return trip not to banged up or soiled. I am doubtful of coming out unscathed. Oh well, maybe I will finally sit next to a hot person on the plane, instead of a huge person whose side fat creeps into my area.

Tip of the Day: When you have a long day of traveling ahead of you pretend like you are playing Survivor. But, if you are smart enough to realize that you won't win a prize you are screwed, take some drugs and write nasty notes about the people around you and if that doesn't work take sneak photos of funny looking people.

-Canadian Castaway

Final US Days and The Cutest Person in the World

2010-08-01T20:46:00.001-07:00

Day 339

Tomorrow will be my last day in the United States for quite awhile. I am wondering if I still know how to say "about" in Canadian. I guess I would worry more about my re-acclimation if I wasn't sitting around in mourning for my shitty array of cheap fast food, Wal-marts, and rednecks.

Anyway, this morning I went out to brunch with my parents. We ate at a tiny cafe that is in a town of around 500. The cafe was filled with old people and thus, I fell in love. The woman I fell in love with walked in with her husband--okay, so she kind of waddled. The second I saw her gaudy purple flower shirt and huge belly covered in a white skirt with the pockets stuffed and her jiggly neck I knew she was easily the cutest person I have seen in years. I watched her and listened to everything she said and noted that she drank iced tea and even wondered what brand of pantyhose she was wearing. Hey, I never said I wasn't a stalker. Anyway, turns out that she not only is she the cutest person in the world, she also has an unbearably cute name: Dorothy Fitzgerald. She makes me want to call up the man I am supposedly marrying in 6 years and tell him we have to create a child and name it Dorothy Fitzgerald.

I visited my 87 year old grandmother today. She is losing her mind which is sad and also quite funny. Today she said that her dad put the basket on her walker. She also went on a rant about how I should get a girlfriend and a boyfriend and go out with them and have the girlfriend teach me how to treat a boyfriend so that I know what to do. I am not sure if this implies a three-way but it very well could.

Today mostly involved a complete TMI story. At some point in the past few days I have decided that I need to buy fancy underwear that isn't white. Yeah, I have no idea where that came from but I believe in it just as much as devout Catholics recite their Hail Mary thing. My mother came along on my quest for underwear and we went to several department stores where she picked out the only options there for people of my size: nude-colored support panties that go up under the tits. After a Taco Bell break we decided to try Wal-Mart where I not only found panties--the same six-pack bullshit, just not in white and some satin things that will probably give me chronic yeast infections--we also found a shirt. This shirt is a "designer" (come on, does Wal-mart seriously have designer anything) black t-shirt with a big red maple leaf on it. I cannot wait to wear it in Canada--the land where it is probably a law that one must wear pro-Canada gear as every street is filled with maple leafs and red letters on chests and hats that in all-caps spell out, "CANADA."

One of my favorite pastimes for nearly my entire life (I can't prove that I did this as baby but I am sure I pissed on him) has been pissing (tee hee) off my father. In the evenings my father basically eats lemon drops and watches television and since a run-in with us cheating in a game of Sorry! he has decided to not play games again.
Tonight I tricked him (guilt-trip, sob-story about how I am leaving soon) into playing cards with me and my mother. Not only did he try to cheat by laying any card he wanted despite the rules of the game, he also refused to shuffle when it was his turn to deal (he literally just gathered the cards and dealt) and finally, his response to my mother asking, "Is it my turn?" was: "It doesn't matter." Conclusion: My dad is a diva and I love to play cards with him but it doesn't actually piss him off. I will try harder perhaps stealing his truck or at least putting a fruity air freshener in it.

That is literally all that happened today. I know, I am getting horribly boring in my old age. Oh wait I left out that I watched Wheel of Fortune, cleaned my dentures, and ate creamed corn.

Tip of the Day: Do whatever you need to do to fill the gap of appropriate dying your hair purple, you know, the gap that spans from 16 to 67.

-Canadian Castaway

Wedding Lessons and Hangovers

2010-07-31T19:02:00.000-07:00

Day 338

Yesterday I didn't write. I tried, I swear. After attending my friend's wedding and while I was still very buzzed I realized that the internet in my shithole hotel didn't ,that coupled with a mysterious bag I found in the room made me disgusted.

Yesterday's wedding was only the second wedding I have ever attended in my life. Here are a few things I learned from it:

-Getting dressed up is not terrible, it is interesting. Who knew that they made pantyhose that go up to your tits?! While getting ready my friend and I compared these devices that no doubt came from the de-evolution of corsets. Tip: Go with your friend and discuss these horrible hose so that after the dinner is served she will feel comfortable leaning over to share, "My girdle is full!"

-There is always the schmuck. Now, I learned this from The Wedding Singer but it is true. Last night's schmuck is known for coming over to my house (years ago) and drinking all of my grape Kool-aid while giving me a lecture about how I have the wrong type of air conditioner. He is even more famous for the remark he made to my girdle-wearing partner years ago when she was pregnant. He said, "Wow, now that your pregnant you have really nice tits!"

Not only did this schmuck somehow make it into the wedding party, he also grabbed the mike and gave a speech. He sounded like a used car salesmen. I zoned out halfway through and thought about how hard my friend and I had laughed just an hour earlier after we heard a story about how the schmuck broke his leg awhile ago. Later, my girdle-buddy was found talking to him. I went up to save her only to find out that she was bonding with him by pointing out how he was and is a huge asshole. I joined in the fun. Later, a few cocktails later, I told him that I appreciated that he was a true (not half-assed) asshole. His response, "You have nice tits."

-Okay so that guy that had a crush on you a few years ago will be there and he will be showing you his new tattoos which WILL involve taking off his shirt. And, when you first say hello to him he will tell you that he has a prince albert. And, he will try to grind on you on the dance floor and if you run away he WILL chase you and your sloshed friend WILL think it is just a joke and not come to your aid. Ugh.

-If you are attending a wedding of an old friend you will see people that you used to hang out with and you will (if you are lucky) look around and finally realize that you have super hot friends and thus you also must be super hot.

-I learned that the guy that you used hug and who gets tipsy and grabs your ass but you don't hate him for it because he is fun and friendly will be the best man, of course. He will look fabulous in his suit and you will want to hug him all night long. And just after you held onto him for way too long and your girdled friend is rubbing his man boobs his new skinny, tranny-look-alike girlfriend will beeline over. Later, she will scream at him and start crying and make a scene and you will feel superior to her and know that you were right to judge her as a bitch.

-The artsy friend of yours from long ago will be there with his awesome and charming new girlfriend and he will dance for a long time. When you tell him that he has moves he will say it was the cocaine he snorted before he arrived at the wedding and you will giggle but not really know if it was a joke.

-When you are walking to the second bar after the reception you will be next to the bride and she will be telling you how she is the bride and nobody can run her over with a car because that would be rude as she is a bride. Then she will giggle and apologize for being wasted and she will comment about how you will remember her being wasted and remind her of it one day. You will tell her that you are probably too drunk to remember anything that happens...but, you lied.

So that is a very brief summary of the main events and lessons from the wedding. Today I woke up in my hotel room after only a few hours of sleep and a hangover thus today's highlights aren't nearly as exciting and I come off as a dickhead in them but here they are in abridged form:

-I went out for breakfast at a cafe I used to frequent and the owner was so excited to see me that she picked up the tab for my bacon, cream cheese, and green olive hangover omelet. The bad news is that my friend I haven't seen in awhile showed up and I was a pompous, teasing jerk to him and I didn't realize it until hours later.

-I went to the grocery store with my father and he let me drive his huge truck that makes me feel ridiculously redneck and patriotic and powerful. I parked it and was about to run in when my dad started to bitch about how rude it was of me to park where he was in direct sunlight I got back into the truck. He then yelled, "Start the son of a bitch!" I told him that the two old ladies in the parking lot heard him. Instead of being embarrassed he was in hysterics. When I moved the truck the sun was still beating on him.

Other than that it is just a lot of me whining and looking at handbags in a store and chopping cucumbers. So I will say, until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: If your arm itches don't think about how it could be that you were bitten by bedbugs in your hotel last night instead, think that it is all in your head or that your parents slipped you some meth in your beef stroganoff.

-Canadian Castaway

Gotta Run Before My Computer Rebels Again

2010-07-29T21:37:00.000-07:00

Day 336

Okay so I just watched a commercial for realtors and thought to myself two things:
1. Realtors hugging their clients is inappropriate, right? Or is it now expected?
2. And I swear and admit this is true: I thought to myself why the fuck are they mispronouncing the name of the occupation. It is not pronounced, real-tor it is pronounced, real-a-ter. Then I realized my stupidity as I saw that it is spelled: realtor which, phonetically would have it pronounced: real-tor. Shit, I am stoopid. Who the fuck let me get into grad school. Sucker.

Tomorrow I will be attending a wedding of an old friend of mine. This means that I will be putting on a dress that makes me look like a disco ball and have to schmooze with people about what I am doing and what they are doing as if either of us care. Not only is the wedding outdoors which is a total slut. It is in a metropolitan area during rush hour traffic so all of the neighborhood can see me as a disco ball. But the worst thing of all is that it is being held by my friend who is a vegetarian. I can't wait to choke down fake meat product and pretend like I am full. At least I am bringing a big purse to hold jerky and napkins filled with vegetarian food to feed the birds.

Tonight I made a cold salad for dinner that involved garbanzo beans, cucumbers, olives, tomatoes and dog hair. Yeah, that's right, in my tiny taste test I found two hairs. But if you eat it in the dark you can't see the fucking dog hairs and it tastes great.

I think my computer is mad at me or hates my blog--probably both. A few minutes ago the cursor totally disappeared and even my panicked control-alt-delete didn't work. Not only am I pissed off I am now puzzled as I have no idea what "alt" means. Then my cursor stopped and I had to restart my computer three times. This means i need to finish this thing up and not keep writing. This may be a good thing as I look this blog entry over I am spending a whole lot of time discussing things I don't know. Man, self reflection should be called, self slapping.

Everyday on Canadian Yahoo there are news articles--well, that is if you consider celebrities wearing the same outfits unknowingly news. What I want to know is who are the people who notice these things. Do they literally spend their entire lives playing a game of Memory but with pics of celebrities? When these people grew up and the adults in their lives asked them what they wanted to be when they grow up did they lie and say astronaut?

Tip of the Day: Strive to live the kind of life that makes your ridiculous crushes actual options.

-Canadian Castaway

Canned Meat Museum Adventure Day

2010-07-28T17:54:00.000-07:00

Day 336

Today was spent adventuring with my parents.

1st Adventure: my father's driving. Mother, "Umm, you are a nutty driver." Father: "No, I am an insane driver."

2nd Adventure: My father insisted that we stop for a treat on the way to the canned meat museum. We pulled into an A & W. My mother and I ordered ice cream cones and he ordered a float. When the girl who was working handed off two good-sized cones my dad declared that they were small. "Look at that skinny little girl making the ice cream cones. They should always have big fat girls making the ice cream cones and then you'd get more."

3rd Adventure: The canned meat museum. Turns out that there is a lot to know about the meat packing industry. I learned that there was a singing chorus of women that paraded around the country to promote pork products. I learned that there was tons of canned meat consumed during the wars (duh). I learned that Margaret Thatcher ate canned meat, occasionally. I learned that giant plaster figures posed looking at each other could have a soundtrack played over them and it doesn't really look like two people actually talking no matter how hard you imagine. Most of all I learned that suckers like me can't live without a variety of souvenirs that are basically marketing tools. I don't know what I will do with a canned meat magnet but I sure as hell needed one. If that wasn't bad enough I thought my friends absolutely needed canned ham magnets, they just don't know it yet.

4th Adventure: After the museum trip we stopped at a nearby restaurant and ordered the museum special which consisted of canned ham burgers. They were wonderful until 20 minutes after you consumed them and rode down a bumpy highway. For dessert I ordered the mysterious "graham cracker pie." Turns out the mystery is that the pie has a graham cracker crust, vanilla pudding and is topped off with meringue. Then I learned the most fascinating thing I learned all day: if meringue is just right you can put it in your mouth and squeeze it out your teeth and it is the most fun you could possibly have sober.

4th Adventure: My brother's car broke down and he wanted me to drive one of my parents two (driveable) cars to him, over an hour away. This started an onslaught of what I will call, What it Means to Be in a Family. Simply put, I was reminded that fights could tear a family apart and cause gang ups and HUGE guilt trips. Most of the time these fights dissolved without apologies. And sometimes, rarely, they end with one person hugging the other and saying, "I am not mad at you. I love you." And the hugged thinking, 'You are probably lying but I don't care.'

I have taken to writing postcards. Okay, let's be honest, I don't have tons of money to spend on buying souvenirs for my pals and I have some free time. Anyway, over my holiday break (translation: Canadian for vacation) I have spent quite a bit of time filling out postcards with curse words and TMI stories and sending them out to my friends. This is all fine and nice but I am wondering if the time I am spending watching TV and eating too much canned meat product (the time I am not writing postcards) should be spent dreaming up ways to validate the postcard writing fetish by putting it to use for my thesis.

My parents have driven me to exercise. No, it's not because they have rock hard abs or can run marathons--the only marathons they can do involve TV episodes. It is due to them driving me nuts. As my car died last year and I am borrowing one of theirs during my visit and today we all got into a fight (see above) and the use of their car was hung over my head I decided to strike out on my own. I made it up the hill they live on and tromped around listening to Skid Row in my new earbuds for twenty minutes--as long as it took for me to discover that my hair was wet due to my sweating and got kinda grossed out and then realized that I was tired. I am like the kid who bumps himself and only starts crying because he sees blood. Well, that and the fact that there were people coming up ahead and I didn't want to talk to them. Anyway, now I am wondering if I hung around my parents all of the time if I would be thin due to the fact that they drive me to exercise. It's either that or hard drugs but then again hard drugs make you thin. Hmm...

What I just said to my mother: "One day I want to make enough money so that I don't have to buy my underwear in a six pack."

Tip of the Day: Ate too many sodium nitrate-laced foods? Eat a bag of frozen vegetables.

-Canadian Castaway

On Tour...

2010-07-27T18:32:00.000-07:00

Day 335

This morning I visited my grandmother. She has been losing it more and more over the years and we've all gotten used to telling her that her parents are dead. Today, I nearly lost it over the irony of when she looked at her walker and declared, "There is a screw missing!"

There is something about the county seat town and my father. Whenever we approach the city limits he declares that I am a "fucking idiot." When I bring it up later that he called me a fucking idiot he tells me that he only called me a fucking idiot because I was being a fucking idiot. Anyway today was spent with my father in the county seat. I love the sound of that, "county seat" tee hee hee. Shit, I am a fucking idiot. Anyway, so our first stop was a German restaurant. After my father ate "German Potato Salad" and sauerkraut and we got a mile down the road his comment was, "That place was full of a buncha drunks."

My father and I then wound up at the county museum. The most exciting part of the museum was that my father was in a wheelchair. Due to his MS he usually gets around with a walker but today his legs were quite horrid so I threw him in the community-use wheelchair to go through the museum. Here are some highlights:

I wheeled him directly into the men's room under his direction of, "Put me right in front of the piss bucket!"

When one of the wheels was sticking on a foot pedal my dad went on a loud, curse-filled rant in the quiet museum.

I would nearly crash his feet into stuff and get a small thrill just thinking about the ruckus that would ensue if he knocked over an ancient loom.

I rolled him into a position where his wheelchair was facing a buggy and took pictures as though they were playing chicken.

When we first went to the elevator we found it filled up with a wheel barrow and a walk behind mower. We squeezed in but when we reached the 2nd floor we found ourselves facing a dilemma--the door opened on the other side and we couldn't squeeze past the equipment. I wheeled the giant wheel barrow out of the elevator and then got my dad out. The door shut and I decided that we would leave the wheel barrow on the second floor to give the groundskeeper a little excitement in his day.

Tonight my mother and I sat outside and watched lightning from a passing thunderstorm and for the 20th or so time in my life she commented about how her and her dad used to sit out and watch the thunderstorms. I pretended (like the last 19 times) that this was the first time she was telling me this story. After she was finished she added, "When I am dead and gone tell that story." I will. But, I wonder if my children will take over the pretending it was the first time I droned on about my mother and her father and the storms. I imagine they will whine to me about having to hear it again and then I will realize that I failed at raising respectful children. Damnit.

Tip of the Day: Let your family push you around a little and then remind them of it later usually it won't be fodder for blackmail but it will at least make them laugh.

-Canadian Castaway

A Big Day and My Parents are Pill Poppers

2010-07-26T20:21:00.000-07:00

Day 334

So, I have been messing around with the template of my blog. Turns out my blog doesn't have to look like a 13 year old writes it, well, at least not design-wise subject and grammar-wise I am pretty much an uncool 13 year old for life. While doing this change of template I came across my writer ego. A scary little beast that seems to come up every now and then. So, as I was customizing the damn thing I thought, 'Oh shit, what if this turns out like the time Facebook fucked with the template and features of its site and everyone got pissed?' Umm yeah, pretty sure I have WAY less people visiting this blog than Facebook has using their site to post pictures of themselves smoking and drinking or holding babies and putting updates about how works sucks up. Perhaps, I could add a photo and status feature though where people could post these things. But back on topic, seriously I thought my readers (correction: one reader, thank you I love you) would be pissed off if my blog looked better. I am as my father and mother have said, "Fricking stupid." But, there you have it, the ugly writer ego is the little voice saying, 'You are important! People love you!' I love that little fucker.

Being in my hometown I have noticed a few things. Tonight I noticed that my parents are pill poppers. They even went out to Walmart to get the type of boxes parents store art supplies in to house their pills. They have so many pills they have to write them all down on recipe cards and can call up the pharmacy and order refills giving only their first names as ID. The best part though is that my mother fills my father's pills so he doesn't risk messing it up. But tonight my father looked over at my mother and said, "Umm, I think you are missing quite a few of my pills here." After that I was thinking that I should look up the names of the pills and check out what they do to you, specifically the ones that my mother is fucked up on. But then I decided I didn't want to know, I'd like to think their madness is just who they are.

This morning I had the awful job of shoveling rock. I was stupid enough to think that if I didn't come in the summer I would get out of having to shovel (everyday over Christmas break I had to shovel snow). My parents have a driveway that is full of gravel, unlike their rich neighbors who have driveways that are paved. When it rains the rock washes out into the road, some of it even gets in the 86 year old neighbor's driveway. The other day we came home to discover that not only did the rain wash out the rocks I had shoveled back into place two days before, the 86 year old neighbor lady had swept up all the rock that had migrated to the mouth of her driveway into a pile at the mouth of our driveway.

My parents sent me out to shovel. Not only did I drip sweat, I imagined the 86 year old having no trouble doing the task. I looked over to her yard to find her tossing around tree branches with ease. If that weren't horrid enough there were plenty of people driving by looking at me. And boy wasn't it fun to have the random lady honk at me and to have the postman make a remark about it being a tough job and then proceed to drive through the rocks I had raked up. Tomorrow I am breaking all of my parents shovels.

I should be drinking booze right now to celebrate but instead I am drinking cold coffee and some odd Trader Joes snack food. I finally wrote and sent my 'Fuck you, I quit!' email to Canada Post today, as I had gotten on the schedule at the pub--a job I had last fall until we got shut down. I was so fricking thrilled the pub was fit to re-open, it may have been gross but at least it didn't make me want to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre just to take notes and get ideas. Anyway, I was so happy to finally put an end date on the postal job, this feeling lasted all day (well, except that part of the day that I bought that new flavor-changing gum and walked around saying, "It's just like in Willy Wonka, but it's not a whole meal!") until I got home from visiting a friend to find two emails from the pub. One email said that the new manager wants to call a meeting with the employees this week. I am out of town this week. The other email was just to let us know that the schedule had been retracted. Fuck.

Today I came up with a master plan: I want to have my mother go shopping and buy me all sorts of things that I use like underwear and facial cleanser. The idea behind this is that when she sends me a care package in the mail I won't get 18 pairs of socks, 3 tubes of mascara and hideous hot pink yarn. The only problem is that I haven't yet figured out how to phrase it. "Mom, so I was thinking you should go out and buy me all sorts of things I want because sometimes you suck at sending what I actually need," somehow sounds ungrateful.

Tip of the Day: Having pork every meal of the day is probably a bad idea but I have to do more research into the topic.

-Canadian Castaway

Growl

2010-07-25T20:05:00.000-07:00

Day 333

So, I have an injury and a BAD attitude. Tomorrow I will share the details but for now I need some Metallica and Tylenol.

Tip of the Day: Too pissy to comment. I don't know, don't be an asshole.

-Canadian Castaway

Too Tired for Boring, Long Title Sequences

2010-07-24T17:42:00.000-07:00

Day 332

Apparently, red wine makes me sweat, that or, the strain my body is facing trying to hold back from maiming my parents is starting to take effect. But, let's start at the beginning.

This morning I was woken up to knocking at the front door and my parents yelling, "Come in!" eight times. Then, from my bed, I heard a lady who is a distant relative of mine who has a harelip and a gambling addiction but a good heart go on and on about how afraid of my grandmother she was in the night. She works at the assisted living house my granny lives in. Turns out my grandmother had a flip out and went a little nutty, nearly maiming this woman's foot with her walker. I came out after the 20 minute or so mark and the woman hugged me and started to tell the story over again. Somehow my parents got her to change the subject and made her admit that she was going to the next state over not only to buy cheap cigars for her giant husband but also to go to a shitty casino on the way and somehow this led to a conversation about her car breaking down. Around then my coffee kicked in and I started to stare at the paralyzed side of this woman's face and realized that she can use her eye and then I imagined how she threw a frying pan at her last husband.

This is how things have been going around home. Well, that and the fact that my parents are at each other all of the time. My dad being grumbly and my mother playing the victim. But today there were two other elements to add to that mix.

1. I came across (translation: my mother found it in a pile of her crap and chucked it at me) a notebook that I had used as a journal in 2nd grade. I opened it up to find little details about my life in the exact same handwriting I have today. I was also reminded how I cannot draw and the worst part is that I didn't even draw in an obnoxiously elementary way, I just drew like an average boring idiot child--all boxed houses and stick-figure-esque people in huge dresses with yellow-crayoned hair. But, the spelling and details were excellent. It is fun to know that on my birthday my parent's got me a babysitter and my class went to a supermarket on a field trip. The whole thing was quite enjoyable until I realized that every progressive entry had more grammatical errors than the last. If I was truly getting dumber where does that leave me 20 years from then? Thirty? What is even more troubling is that I have continued this daily journal this long. At least, I stopped pretending like I know how to draw and I can't tell if my handwriting is getting any worse.

2. As an escape from my father whom I actually got into a shouting match with (sometimes I revert to a 16 year old version of myself around him) my mother and I went to the next town over for groceries. On the way over my mother mentioned that an old man I used to know now lived over there in some sort of old folks home seeing as his wife had passed away. She convinced me to stop and see him. I was worried that he wouldn't remember me. I haven't seen him in about 4 years and he is 91 years old. When I walked in I introduced myself and feared the worst but before long he was hugging me and we were both crying. Somehow, he had remembered that when I was in high school I became the infamous girl that he would describe to people as, "That girl could spill a cup of coffee on you and make you like it."

We sat and talked for a long time and he told us about how his wife died and how they had met and how he had made her feel comfortable enough to be herself and how he had never thought he was going to get married ever again and then she came along. This was the same couple that when one of them had went to the bathroom at the restaurant I used to work at the other would go on and on about how wonderful the other was. Never did either of them know that these wonderful words were being spoken. We sat and listened to him recount all of the times and circumstances in which they professed their love for each other and I stared out the window at what used to be her car. A car that he kept even though he couldn't drive. A car that he was right outside the window, where he could see it. There was also the full-page printed pictures of her that were all over the walls of his assisted-living home. I remembered at some point during all of this that I believed in love and he and her were the reason why. If I ever get married and pass on I would want my husband to look out at the car he bought just for me on a whim and tell people that he would be buried in the sweater I thought made him look wonderful.

But not everything was so serious, with the best people in my life it never is. He showed us emails that his friends in California had sent to him. He scrolled down as we read the Baptist and Catholic jokes. There was even one whose punchline was a picture of a scantily-clad woman. He showed me the bill for his housing and laughed at how much it cost. He said that he had won twice at the meat raffle at the VFW. He laughed with traces of tears on his face. But what shocked me the most and turns out to be the funniest thing to me now was how he spoke of many different people in his life. He stated exactly how old they are and when there birthdays were. On the way out to the car I confessed to my mother that I didn't even know how old she was. But, I will be damned if I forget to send a Happy 92nd Birthday card out this August 29th.

After that my mother and I went grocery shopping. The only exciting things at the grocery store were the huge ladies that made both of us feel not so fat. At home we ate pizza that we bought at a convenience store for eight dollars and now I am hiding out drinking wine and my parents are sitting in lawn chairs with the mosquitos and I am contemplating locking the doors. I think next I will go on facebook and start learning birthdays. Until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: Be the kind of person who makes people cry in a good way when they see you.

-Canadian Castaway

Boring and Borderline Awful

2010-07-23T22:40:00.000-07:00

Day 331

Once again last night I sort of copped out of a full description of the day’s events, but fuck it I am on vacation. Well, my Dad says that now that I am a budding Canadian I have to call it being on “Holiday.” Anyway, in the spirit of being on holiday and with the hype around Lindsay Lohan’s jail time I am writing this account of today and yesterday while watching Mean Girls. Let me just say right now that it is totally weird seeing Lindsay all fresh-faced and innocent looking without shitty chipped blue nail polish on.

Anyway, the account of today’s events is pretty lame, it was really one of those days when things are sort of boring and hugely awful. Last night I only slept about four hours. My friend and I shared her bed in an effort to be in the only air conditioned room in her apartment so, the night was spent pushing her off of me and having her tug the blanket. Anyway, I tried to ready myself for a day of visiting two of my friends who allegedly want to see me. One didn’t answer her phone and the other didn’t answer his phone and finally texted that he really had to finish something that sounded like a seating chart. So, I went home to hang with the only person who wanted to hang with me, my dad.

We decided on going to a store that is similar to Menards so that I could carry six 40 pound bags of water softener salt for him. Everything seemed wonderful and actually quite fun. My dad decided to try out air guitar and later laughed his ass off after he realized that he called me, “fricking stupid.” Then I made fun of his laugh and he laughed some more. We had lunch and it wasn’t terrible and then went on to the Menards-y where I found a pair of Levi’s and carried the salt bags. Basically, everything was going just fine…until we stopped at a McDonald’s.

My Dad uses a walker because he has MS. We pulled into the handicapped spot and on the lines next to the spot--the area usually used by handicapped people who are lucky enough to be able to go out use for their walkers and wheels chairs—had a motorcycle illegally parked in it. I made a comment about how rude it was that someone would park there. My dad told me to go on ahead into the McDonalds. When I entered some asshole hick guy approached me and asked if the guy with the walker outside was my dad and I told him he was and then he said, “He just bumped my bike.” Then I responded in the coldest , meanest voice I could muster, “He did not BUMP your bike.”

Then, after I got my father back in the car and the asshole pulled away, I thought of a million other things I should’ve said to the dickhead and started to get more and more pissed off. Then, I turned into a psycho bitch and apologized to my dad. “Dad, I am sorry I am being a bitch that guy just really pissed me off and I am hungover and tired and hot and I carried those bags around and I am just sorry, I know I am being a bitch.” His response, “Yes, you are being a bitch.” If that wasn’t bad enough when I later told my mother about the asshole incident she said, “If it were me I would’ve got my phone out in front of the guy and called the cops to report that he was illegally parked.” So, not only did I have to deal with the asshole guy, regretting that I didn’t do anything to the guy, and having my dad call me a bitch, I also had to deal with my mother coming up with a brilliant idea that was way more original than my ideas of what I should’ve done to the asshole.

So, other than that and a hamburger that was my day. Well, there was the interlude at the hamburger restaurant when my mother and I noted that this woman who came up to a friend's table kept talking on and on and the friend clearly wanted the bitch to leave so she could eat her tuna salad. But, the best part of the day was the nap I took. Although watching Mean Girls is coming in a very close second.

Okay, so yesterday I went to the candy store with a very large friend of mine. She then said something, quite loudly about how she is diabetic and buying candy. The man who was working (a friend of mine) and I burst out laughing. My fat friend then said, “What’s so funny? I am diabetic. That is not funny.” But, we kept laughing anyhow, turns out it was funny, quite funny.

After that I went to my friend’s house and guzzled chocolate martinis and held one of her bunnies and threw pizza crust into her yard. Then we pretty much just gossiped about how people who are a Taurus in the zodiac (not the car) are bitches and then went to bed. So really, my short blog entry from yesterday was short for a reason—nothing all that interesting happened, at least from how I remember it. Perhaps I should take some Ginkgo Biloba.

Tip of the Day: Don’t eat those chocolate-covered pretzels, they will leave stains that you will remember them by.

-Canadian Castaway

Oh Boy (minus the boy)

2010-07-22T22:09:00.000-07:00

Day 330

Okay so here is the count:

2-chocolate martinis
1-blueberry beer
1-Chardonnay
3-pieces of the variety of pizza that drips down your arm.

So, that coupled with me being on my friend's computer trying to manipulate the ergonmic, broken-style keyboard is going to be my excuse for not writing more today. See you tomorrow. Wish me luck sleeping with my friend (literally, not the fun way). Hopefully, I will at least drink enough water to not be too hungover when I meet my friend and her baby. Frig.

Tip of the Day: Don't chase your friend's pet bunnies, turns out they don't like that.

-Canadian Castaway

Back Roads Gas Station Blues, Passive Agressive Shopper, You Don't Know Me, Huggy Greetings, My Girl?

2010-07-21T21:24:00.000-07:00

Day 329

Today was spent shopping and eating. That's really about all I do now. On the way to a store my mother and I had never been to before we decided to take back roads. We ended up in a town that consisted of a gas station and around 3 houses. We stopped at the gas station. There was a sign on the door that said something to the effect of, "Bring in two books to donate and you can get one of our books for $1." Apparently, donating comes with a price. My mother went to the bathroom while I scanned the top supermarket novels of ten years ago and bought an expired candy bar and then we left, bookless. And to make it even worse when I opened my expired Abba Zabba there was a piss-colored liquid on it.

We finally made it to the store, despite my poor navigation skills--we ended up in the back entrance of the store that said, "Not an Entrance." The store turned out to be a wonderland of fat lady clothes. While I scanned the racks and pulled items to try on a ratty-looking woman who looked like she should be parked on a stool at the American Legion in a drunken arm wrestling (pronounced, "wrastlin") match watched me. Turns out she was a store employee. She basically ignored me and my mother and opened the dressing room doors for other customers AND she showed huge interest in that customers leg cast. I had to crawl under the door of the room to get in to the room I had to have when another lady who coughed everywhere stole the room that I found unlocked. Meanwhile, the American Legion woman didn't seem to notice I had to crawl under a stall to get a new change room or that I had my room stolen. My Midwestern passive aggression made me leave every single item I tried on for her to put away and even left some underwear in there so she may think I tried them on too. Here are a few other things that occurred:

-I tried on leopard-print pants. Scary idea.

-I refused to sign up for a credit card even if I could save 30 percent on my highest priced item.

-I tried on a few bras and realized that bras aren't just to cover your tits, they are to make them rise up and become the perky teenage tits you've never had. I bought two look out world.

-I purposely went through the "Employees Only" door without permission to use the bathroom.

-I stared at a lady who was shopping and laughed at how grumpy she looked. Turns out she had a cast on her arm. At that point I thought I had better leave before I ended up in a cast, especially considering all of the clothes I left everywhere.

After that stop we had a late lunch and went to Trader Joes. This was my mother's first trip to Trader Joes as she lives far from the store. After awhile of shopping around we were paused by the cookie section when another woman hit my mother's cart with her own. I waited for my mother to erupt on the strange woman with a huge gunt (gut+cunt) but turns out she knew her. My mother had taken care of this woman's father many years ago in a city far, far away. The woman and my mother talked for awhile and I loaded up the cart with junk. Then my mother said something about being out to shop with her daughter and pointed at me. The lady said, "Oh you have a daughter? I didn't know you have a daughter." I went over and said hello and then the woman said, "I met you when you were just a baby." I smiled but what I should've said was, "Are you on one too many Percocets? You just said that you didn't know I exist and now you are pretending you do know."

After the Trader Joe's excursion and the mandatory purchasing of cheap wine and beer that you can make into your own personalized six-pack (best idea ever) my mother and I dropped by my former neighborhood coffeeshop. Upon entering we saw three freaky men, one woman who tells really long stories but is nice and the owner of the shop. I have known the owner quite well for quite awhile as I was a regular customer and once went with him to purchase plants for the patio. But, I didn't think we were the kind of friends that required ten long, flamboyant hugs when I arrived. Turns out though, getting excessive hugs when you arrive and a genuine, "I am so glad to see you" is an excellent greeting when you walk into a room. The only thing is that I read on some inspirational message somewhere that you must be the change you want to see in the world and I am not feeling all that lovey.

At supper this evening my mother and I were joined by my friend and her six year old. Here a few of my favorite things from my encounters with the six year old I call my niece:

-Every time she wanted to speak she says, "Can I ask you a question?" even when what she had to say is a command.

-If she noticed that I let her win at tic tac toe she didn't say so, she just took the glory.

-At one point she leaned in and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?" and grabbed my hand. "Sometimes me and my mom hold hands and when we squeeze it means I love you." She squeezed, repeatedly.

-When her and I were in the bathroom we had this conversation:

Me: What is your favorite thing to eat?
Her: Mac and cheese.
Me: Does your mom ever make that for you?
Her: No!
Me: Yeah, she's kind of healthy, huh?
Her: You wanna know a secret?
Me: Yeah.
Her: I think healthy food is BORING!

I think I need a DNA test, is it possible to be someones biological mother without actually having them come out of you?

Tip of the Day: If you believe in something hard enough and long enough it could become your truth. This is why I never give up on the: one day Craig Ferguson will tell me I am sexy and I'll say, "Ditto" and then everything will fall magically together and he will be the best kisser in the world and we will all live happily ever after.

-Canadian Castaway

Invisible, Sci-Fi Hideout, Poetics, "Friend"ship, Inappropriate Timing, Addict, Nastiness

2010-07-20T20:03:00.000-07:00

Day 328

So this morning I was online and saw wanted my friend to Skype with me. I sent her a Skype message that basically read, "I am avoiding (insert list of people here) so I am on "Invisible" but I am really here. Skype me!" For a minute I felt bad that I was hiding out on Skype and other chat venues so certain "friends" of mine couldn't contact me with their boring, "Hello." Then I realized two things: 1. Other people probably hide from me on online. And, 2. Why am I friends with these people at all?

This afternoon I went to my favorite library. I tried a different spot than my usual spot. This spot had a good view of all of the creepy old men and an overgrown fat boy who flipped through CDs for over an hour while his butt crack aired out. The best part about my spot though was that it was near the sci-fi section and no one, except a not-creepy girl, came to look at the books near me. Isn't it weird that many people you know like reading sci-fi and yet you never see them actually reading it?

While at the library I read a book of poetry. It was incredibly weird. I AM the type of person who will walk around and judge people for being poets. But today, reading the book that I have to review, I remembered and embraced my inner poet. The kid I grew up being and reveled in the gritty stanzas and Sylvia Plath references. Now all I must do is find the right hook for the review. I was thinking about going the, "Poetry sucks. And, I hate to admit that I like it sometimes, like now." But, that sounds so boring and poetic.

Today I had to get a little witchy with a "friend" of mine. This "friend," whom I haven't seen in months, declined hanging out with me today because she has her period. I wanted to scream at her to take some Midol and suck it up or tell her that being drunk would help. Instead I shot her a snarky text message, "I am busy for the next full week." Tonight I remembered something she had said to me once on a road trip, she said, "You are never scarier than when you have your period or when you are hungry, and now you are both." Guess she hasn't yet seen how scary I can be when you ditch me for a ridiculous reason oh and btw, I can't hang out because I am brushing my teeth.

This afternoon I came home, poured myself a cocktail and took the book I am reading outside to enjoy a nice breeze and the shade. I gulped down my delicious cocktail, turns out that reading a book and drinking don't mix when the book is AMERICAN ON PURPOSE by Craig Ferguson and you are reading the part where he first realizes that he is an alcoholic. I thought about quitting either the book or the cocktail but I am no quitter.

I have an addiction problem and I am willing to take the step right here and now to confront it. Here goes: I am addicted to making afghans. The longest, most boring, pull your hair out and eat it sort of crochet project you can get into. I started a new one tonight that I have fashioned out of a pattern I found online for "gauntlets." No joke. Not only have I read and understood the pattern and it's cryptic: dc, sl, sc, and reps, I have modified it for a blanket. I looked at the top of the pattern to discover that I am now an "intermediate" crocheter. This basically means that I am in a life sentence to create things to give away out of cheap yarn. It is yet to be decided as to if this is a good thing or something that could consumer my entire existence.

So, tonight I found out, via Facebook, that another one of my fellow writing students has become a finalist in a contest that, apparently, many of us entered. Again, I was met with the fact that I wasn't happy for my fellow student. I know there is supposed to be camaraderie and cheering each other on. But, who is gonna lie, it sucks not knowing if you are chosen and with each passing day seeing your friends display their glory makes you want to punch them out not comment them a "Congrats!!!!!." The only consolation is that it is a Canadian contest so if I don't get in I will blame it on them not understanding my American-ness.

Tip of the Day: Jerry Seinfeld isn't really funny at all.

-Canadian Castaway

Testy, Butt Cream Hunt, Cheesy Friendliness, Are you Brittany?, Malt Cups VS Bench Presses

2010-07-19T21:53:00.001-07:00

Day 327

Today I spent a long time taking a test. The pub I work for had its license suspended and one of the people who is in charge of us re-opening insisted that we take a test from another province because apparently it is more difficult than the one we had to take for certification to serve in our own province. After logging into the site for the other provinces test I found that it seemed more difficult. You had to complete exercises, assignments, case studies, a questionnaire AND do a final exam.

This province seemed to have it really together about getting servers trained to handle any situation legally. Well, it seemed that way until I realized that I could just click on the questions and just by sheer common sense answer the questions, exercises and assignments without the use of any tutorials they provided. Plus, it did help that one of my fellow employees copied and pasted and formatted all of the sites web pages into a word document that you could just search keywords on for anything you were the slightest bit unsure of. I wonder how awesome that province thinks there certification process is...suckers.

To celebrate my test I went out to buy some ointment that babies use on diaper rash but works well on any sort of rash. I cruised the local Wal-mart for over an hour looking for the baby stuff section. I checked the pharmacy area, the health and beauty area (c'mon shouldn't it be there), and the grocery section. Finally, after the sixth round around Wal-mart I found a baby section in the middle and back of the store near the electronics. As I was comparing butt creams a lanky high school-aged kid with a Wal-mart polo shirt on came up and asked, "Do you need any help finding anything?" I felt like the (rashy) butt of a joke. "I'm fine," I said, managing to suppress the, "Fuck you asshole, you think you're funny? What would you even know about baby supplies? Huh? I bet your mom still buys your butt cream, ass munch."

My mother is looking for a specific kind of cheese. You know, the kind of cheese that you have to look up on wikipedia to see if it is real or not. Anyway, after my Wal-mart fiasco I went to a cheese shop. In the cheese shop I found the cheese. But, before I found the cheese, a woman found me. A woman who loved talking to strangers and walked around the store with me at a distance that assumed we were not just friends but close friends, literally. Tonight I told my mother about finding the cheese and the woman. Her response, "That's how people are around here. They are friendly." It was at that moment that I truly realized I had lost my friendliness.

This evening I went out to meet an old friend from high school. I barely sat down before I began slinging the gossip and seeing what she knew about people we went to high school with having babies and getting fat. The only weird thing about us hanging out after years of not hanging out happened when I pulled into the parking lot. I no more than got into a parking space when two ladies in the parked car next to me gave me a friendly wave. I waved back and stared at the driver wondering if it was my friend and if she had brought a guest. The woman next to the driver was a big fat lady who very well could've been someone from high school who just got over four pregnancies and a meth addiction but it wasn't (at least I don't think it was). When I got out of the car the driver of the friendly vehicle came around the back and asked, "Are you Brittany?" Weird.

On the ride home tonight from dinner I got a call from my friend. Turns out he and I were both going places: he was going to the gym and I was going to the local convenience store to get a malt cup.

Tip of the Day: Don't put lotion on just before you are going to type.

-Canadian Castaway

Me and Julia and Julie and Little Things

2010-07-18T22:59:00.000-07:00

Day 326

Tonight I watched Julie and Julia, again. The first time I saw this film was in the theatre. That day I saw it with my parents and we had gotten into a huge fight that caused more than one of us to leave the theatre more than once. But, after I came out of it I was inspired. To me the movie was about just doing something with your life and not looking back. Doing something that seemed totally out of character and far from easy. I guess you can say that movie inspired me to write this blog. I know, I'd like to think I am an original thinker and not one of the thousands who have started blogs since seeing that film but really, I'm just one of many. I guess my story of moving to Canada and living in a dorm setting for the first time at age 25 is unique. But, maybe not. I guess it really doesn't matter because I am doing something with my life and not looking back. Maybe not looking back is a good thing when you write a snarky blog of the variety that you would be embarrassed about when you grow old.

Anyway, so this time through the movie I noticed something else besides the doing something with your life part of it. I noticed the part where the women in the film have happy marriages and men who love them and are there for them. Then I realized three things: 1. I may never find this sort of love. And, 2. Luckily, this sort of love is probably a myth so I don't have to feel bad about not finding it. And regrettably, 3. Despite the fact that it doesn't exist in real life I am still going to look for it because I am a hopeless romantic. Or, as the Bouncing Souls used to say, "I'm a hopeless romantic and you're just hopeless." What they left out is that hope is a bitch so being hopeless may be a very good thing.

The other parts of my day are quite boring such as: I discovered a rash on my back, I painted my fingernails silver, I killed like 6 bugs with a shoe and a screaming war cry, I helped prepare a pot roast, I ate the pot roast, I had my brother Skype with my parents for the first time (they flicked him off and pretended to beat each other up), I thought about all the shit I am not doing with my life, I had two phone conversations that essentially meant nothing, I went to two different stores with clothes in my size and realized they were all hideous, and I avoided people on chat.

So, I will leave the blog entry at the above for today and hope that it isn't utterly boring. But, I don't know as if that really matters much as I have no idea if anyone reads this damn thing anyway. Goodnight possible reader that might just be me, I hope you have wonderful dreams about wonderful men like in the movies and wake up tomorrow not remembering the specifics just the warmth.

Tip of the Day: Don't think about the veins in your pork roast just give them to the dog and eat the non-veined part.

-Canadian Castaway

Today and Yesterday

2010-07-17T18:52:00.000-07:00

Day 325

Actual conversation that have occurred in my parents' house today:

My Mom looked up from the newspaper and said: "A six year old choked on a hotdog and died."

My Dad said, "That happened here too awhile back, some little Mexican girl choked on a hotdog and died."

"Yep, she died," said Mother.

Other than the above and listening to a conversation about whether or not a furniture truck was a furniture truck, whose house it was pulling up to and deciphering what was inside, my day was spent shopping. I have a wedding to go to and nothing to wear. Here is a quick tour of the shopping that occurred:

"The Fat Lady Store:" This store is exactly as my mother describes it. It is a store for fat ladies. Thus, I walked in eating an ice cream cone. Turns out the employees, all fat ladies, were on lunch break. It was perfect. But, I would like to rename the store: "The Fat Lady Store for Fat Ladies Who Dress Terribly."

Lane Bryant: This is the mecca of fat lady shopping. Thus, they should have something for every fat lady. The other major LB positive factor is that they carry high quality clothing. Apparently, all other fat lady stores cater to or assume that fat ladies are also trashy and only buy ugly-floral printed smocks to match their bingo daubers. The main thing about Lane Bryant and me is that every time I go in there I am excited to find something that is somewhat stylish and fits but this never happens so I act like a diva and spout sarcastic comments about everything and fat people in general. The thing that always gets me though is that the employees try even harder to help me. Today's poor victim of my debauchery even stated, after my apology for my rudeness that I wasn't nearly as rude as yesterday's customers. The ladies who work at LB should be given honorary Psychology degrees and raises according to the APA guidelines for therapists/counselors base payment scale.

Dress Barn: The Dress Barn is a place I always used to make fun of, actually, on the way there I was making fun of its name. I decided to go in with my mother so that I could have more things to make fun of. I didn't suspect that I would walk out of there with two dresses. I guess I should be happy but I don't even have one single new joke to poke fun at the DB. The only jokes I have about Dress Barn now are self-deprecating. Damn you, Dress Barn.

ShopKo: This store is basically a souped up K-mart. I always get horribly mad when I look at and try on their clothes because they are ugly and ill-fitting and cheap. But today I found a pair of shoes on sale that resembled a pair of pink shoes worn by my doll from childhood, Cricket. The best part of this store though was seeing all of the high school kids working there who would shut up as we passed and put on faces like they weren't just cussing and telling a story about their drunken friend who did something whorish.

So, that was pretty much was happened today, minus my dad bitching at me for everything you can think of. Let's see what I can remember from yesterday...

The beginning of yesterday had me and my friend shopping and eating. Apparently, this is all I do and I am not even getting all that good at it. I am continuously buying shit I don't need and spilling food on my shirts. Anyway, after that I went to the bar I used to work at to find tons of regulars I used to know quite well. One of these regulars that is always trying to get her husband to come home decided to park it at the bar and order a Mai Tai. Before long the entire bar was drinking Mai Tais.

Later my friend and I showed off our mustache-shaped necklaces by holding them up to where our mustaches would be if we had grown them ourselves. Turns out though, when you hold up a fake mustache to your face and try to talk everything comes out in an English accent. And--much to my surprise--the accent wasn't annoying it was actually quite funny.

Later on a group of people showed up. These people consisted of a guy I once made out with and his new girlfriend. Also, there was the best friend of the guy who I made out with and who upon hearing that I would be in town had responded, "Great, now we can smooch." And, if all of that wasn't bad enough there was another guy with them who when he saw me said, "Do you give free rides?" And, after all of that, I didn't get a smooch.

Before that odd crew showed up, two different people I know who now have babies showed up. They all gathered around and talked about motherhood and how many more kids they wanted to have and what different pregnancies were like. A few old men came by and scared the babies and the Mom's in the room hushed them and the chatter continued about eating and sleeping habits of children and how they grow up so quick and for the first time in a long time I had nothing at all to offer. Nobody ever tells you that when you grow up and you don't become a mother you will have nothing to say sometimes.

In the later part of the evening there was a woman sitting with a couple of people whose blonde-haired 3 year old was wandering the bar patio trying to get attention from everyone. At first I thought the kid was quite obnoxious. I realized that the kid was just a 3 year old stuck in a bar full of adults way past his bedtime and I felt sad. My friends and I started to play with him and he gathered a few quarters. When anyone would leave the patio area he would try to give them one of his quarters. As I was leaving he came racing up to me and I had already prepared my "No you keep it" speech but he didn't offer me the quarters like he had done to everyone else to me he said, "Hug?"

I realized the best part about having been gone for awhile is that when you come back everyone is truly glad to see you. Other than that things are largely the same which isn't just odd but it is sad in a way that is hard to describe and I know that's a cop out. But the funny thing you don't expect is the amount of times people ask you when you are leaving again.

Tip of the Day: Don't let the dog breathe on you.

-Canadian Castaway

Buying and Singing

2010-07-16T23:15:00.000-07:00

Day 324

So, it is only a little after 1 am and I am exhausted. Instead of doing a super half-ass job of recapturing today I will just leave a few details as previews:

Old men scaring tiny babies.

Salad made by a man I have a crush on.

Things largely stay the same.

People actually being glad to see me. Weird.

A little fella named Dominick who screamed, "I don't want to be angry anymore!"

The odd sensation of meeting the now-girlfriend of someone you have made out with on a pool table.

"Are you giving free rides?"

Of not-motherhood.

Mustache necklaces and the accents that accompany them.

How many times do I have to tell people the date I leave?

Mai Tai bar.

Karaoke comeback sensation.

Okay, so there is a tease of what I will detail tomorrow. Stay tuned...

Tip of the Day: Itch.

-Canadian Castaway

A Few of My Favorite Things...

2010-07-15T22:17:00.000-07:00

Day 323

Today was a day of my true American-style consumerism and a few other of my favorite things. Once again it is getting very late so I will make this short. Here goes, my favorite things:

This morning I slept in. Well to be more exact I slept in until my phone rang. It was my father calling from the living room. Now, it's not like we live in some mansion. He could say my name at a reasonable volume from the living room and I would be able to hear it. Maybe he was playing hotel. Hopefully, I don't get a bill with my room charges and for all the Count Chocula I have eaten.

A friend asked me what was the thing I most look forward to doing or seeing while I am home. I told him this, "Driving down a country highway, listening and singing along to rock and roll music on the radio." Today was filled with this activity and everything was wonderful until I realized that I was driving a car with very dark tinted windows. The same car that I got pulled over in for the window tint twice in one weekend last July. I tried to practice things I would say to the potential cop and came up with, "This is my parents car and they think de-tinting the windows is ridiculous." I made it all the way home without getting pulled over, so all of my speech planning was for nothing, or was it? Guess we'll see in the next few days...

I went to the bank in the next town over and cashed a check. After that I realized that I had not had any coffee at all and it was nearly mid-afternoon. I raced over to my favorite coffee shop in the world and the guy that I have had a crush on since high school was working. And, another of my favorite things, he knew that I wanted just a dark coffee despite it having been 6 months since my last visit. He took the two largest sized cups and had me point to what I wanted. I groggily watched him get the coffee and realized that I still have a crush on him. And then I even ventured a, "I'm so glad you are here."

A few of my favorite things also happened while I was at the coffee shop:

-The coffee kicked in.
-I chatted with my bodyguard and told him exactly what I thought of him and he didn't get mad.
-Facebook photo uploader actually worked.
-And, I had a few new ideas for stuff that I am writing.

Then came the consumerism interlude of the day. I went to Target (a luxury Canada could definitely use). While there I bought 4 pairs of shoes for only 20 bucks. And a few other items for a super low price. The experience almost made me want to call off going back to grad school in Canada altogether, there is nothing like the rush you get from shoes on sale. But, I'd still find something to complain about anyhow, so I may as well go. Plus, I would start to take the Target experience for granted.

To round out the American consumer experience I went through a McDonald's drive thru. Despite the fact that I forgot to tell them I didn't want ketchup and despite the fact that the person working couldn't do a 1/2 Diet Coke and 1/2 Dr. Pepper soda for me it was delicious and went well with the rock music blasting as I went down the highway.

For supper my parents and I went to Perkins. There I discovered a secret favorite thing. My parents always act ridiculous around servers. My mother gets all meek and stupid and my father gets boisterous and cracks jokes that aren't funny. I used to be and still am embarrassed by it. But now I can appreciate and am addicted to the total what-the-hell-are-they-gonna-say-now moments of it all.

We followed supper up with a trip to Wal-mart where I oogled the low prices and even though our bill came to over 100 bucks I rejoiced in the glory of getting a cartful not just a bagful for that amount. And for the first time in my life I considered buying one of their "I (heart) U.S.A." t-shirts.

At home I got to play my mother in Rummy and not get my ass kicked. All said it was a day filled with my favorite things. And now I am spent in so many ways. Time to cuddle up with my new shoes and dream of ketchup-less cheeseburger value meals and U.S.A. apparel.

Tip of the Day: Get it.

-Canadian Castaway

Two Days Ago, Yesterday, and Today The Semi-Abridged Version

2010-07-14T09:06:00.001-07:00

Day 322

I just realized that I copped out on from not only yesterdays details but also from the day before yesterdays details. So here we go on a little catching up adventure through time:

Two Days Ago:
This day was my best friend's boyfriends Half Birthday but we forgot all about that. Turns out though, he had a pretty awesome Half Birthday. It all started out with my best friend making breakfast burritos but not just any breakfast burritos, they were breakfast burritos whose meat was diced up breaded pork. By noon we were at the Lincoln Park Zoo. Turns out that crocodiles everywhere look fake and women who smoke and walk around wearing furry bedroom slippers DO belong in the zoo.

Later the Half Birthday boy and I ended up at a café. I went in to use the sink in the bathroom and noted that the toilet had brown streaks of shit on it. Not only was there a person who knocked on the door and was waiting to use the bathroom and rushed inside after I had left, after I went back to the table the Half B-day boy also declared that he was going to use the washroom (Canadian for bathroom). Surely both the bathroom user after me and my friend had thought that I had unloaded a slippery one in there. Why does this always happen? Why do innocent people get blamed for shit crimes they did not commit? Damnit, am I going to have to start cleaning other people’s messes so I don’t get blamed? Or am I going to have to start shitting in public because if I am going to get blamed anyway I may as well be the culprit.

At night we went to see a series of plays that were written based on the work of 4th graders. One of the best parts was when there was a poem about something with a tale and another character was introduced and the actor said, “And I am (some wacky kid name) and I am (whatever the fuck the tailed-character’s name was) sister. That means that we have the same mom and dad.” Another play had a nerdy character going on his first date but saying he had a girlfriend. The waiter at the restaurant said, “You have a girlfriend?! But you are 32!” Apparently, at 32 there is no excuse for someone to only be boyfriend/girlfriend. The “girlfriend” took one look at gassy nerd and said, “I dump you.” One of the final plays was a letter to Obama in it the kids demanded that everyone except terrorists should be allowed to immigrate to the U.S. Their only real claim as to why immigration should be allowed freely was that “…less Mexicans would be arrested.” They signed the note Mrs. So and So’s 4th grade class. But before that send off they had written, “And if you do not meet our demands we WILL have you kicked out of office.”

All in all my friend couldn’t have asked for a better forgotten Half Birthday.

Yesterday:
On my last morning my friends and I went to a neighborhood coffee shop to get a coffee to go on the way to the airport. I waited outside the coffee shop with my cartoonishly large luggage. Also outside the café was a couple and their two dogs. The dogs barked at me and then calmed down. Another person approached and the dogs barked again and pulled at their chains. The dog owner then said disinterestedly, “Don’t take it personally.” Many more people and dogs walked by and got barked at before my friends re-emerged with coffees and they got barked at as well. But, the dog owners stopped saying, “Don’t take it personally.”

When I arrived at O’Hare I was greeted by a McDonald’s employee who handed me a glorious Egg McMuffin. I found a seat and merrily wrote postcards through several announcements regarding delays to the flight. What I loved the most though was watching the woman across from me and her 20 year old daughter. The mother was the type that would huff and puff at every plane delay and go up to make complaints. I had thought, ‘Who the hell lives their life like that? Geez, she’s a sad person who is ridiculous.’

The plane finally did take off and was a very turbulent ride. I watched the woman across the aisle from me white-knuckle it with a nervously bouncing knee. She held a Kindle in her other hand pretending only to herself that she was reading calmly Steinbeck and not at all worried that the wing was going to fly off. I sat there and listened to my I-pod and imagined the wing flying off. Anyway, when we landed I whipped out my cellphone, called my sibling who was picking me up and immediately started bitching about how awful it was that the flight took forever and I couldn’t get off the plane. It wasn’t until today that I realized I was like the mother in the airport except I wasn’t a middle-aged divorcee, yet.

I spent the rest of my day with my sibling eating burritos and drinking beers. In fact, when our parents finally found us they snuck up behind us at the bar. For a former alcoholic and a woman who doesn’t drink too much (but probably used to) seeing your offspring having what is obviously not their first beers of the day much be a little rattling. But they got over it quick when we joined them at a table with a view of Wipeout on a large screen. A woman got smacked in the face and my dad squealed and laughed while our table neighbors looked like we’d just kicked a baby. I was home.

Today:
Wow, so I finally get to write about today and now I can’t really remember what happened. Let’s see…

My dad is maybe being pursued by an angry man due to a failed E-bay transaction.
I took a shower and saw a black bug which I killed with shower cleaner. After I picked up my clothes I saw two more of them scamper away before I could cleanse-kill them. I pulled on my clothes and went running down the hall screaming to my father that he had cockroaches. He told me to open the cupboard door and I did to find an article from the local paper about Earwigs and their local invasion. Then he made fun of me for screaming down the hallway and for killing bugs with cleaner.

Yesterday I had found a gift card for Wal-mart in my brother’s old room, turns out it had 10 bucks on it. So today I went to Wal-mart and found a couple postcards, some nail polish, face cleanser, a soda and a 15 cent notebook and I still have $1.45 left. And then I remembered how much I love shopping in the U.S. In Canada the same stuff would’ve cost me $20.

This evening my parents and I went out to eat at a local small town restaurant. The same restaurant my brother had called me from a few weeks ago telling me how hilarious the salad bar was. Tonight I experienced the full ridiculousness of it. I went up to the salad bar and it was just soggy Iceberg lettuce and processed cheese and things that were supposed to be bacon bits but didn’t taste like bacon and several kinds of creamy dressing. The thing he left out though was the containers of unidentifiable salads. There were about six containers and each one contained a different item like coleslaw or vanilla pudding but the thing was, was that you couldn’t tell at all which was which they all looked like vaguely white globby things.

When we got home my mother and I went to the basement area. Before I had left for Canada I had boxed my belongings and stored them on two metal shelves down in their basement. I started going through the boxes and finding stuff to get rid of, my goal being to get rid of half of my belongings. Despite the broken water glass I had to clean up and the fact that a box packed full of VHS tapes came crashing onto my toes I got rid of tons of things. I just hope that I don’t forget there is broken glass in the garbage when I take it out and I also hope that I don’t need an x-ray and a cast on my foot. Oh well, if I get all cut up from the glass and need a foot cast I can at least get both things in the same trip to the doctor and save on gas money.

Well, I am exhausted and will add to this account tomorrow if I can think of anything else that happened.

Tip of the Day: Try to love your parents and if you can't, take a break.

-Canadian Castaway

Homelands Arrival

2010-07-13T21:49:00.001-07:00

Day 321

So, I can barely open my eyes and it doesn't help that I got some juice from a Noxzema cleansing pad in them. All day was spent in transit and culminated in going home. Well, going home and remembering who my family is when my dad burst out laughing when we were eating supper in a restaurant. Okay so they had Wipeout on and some huge girl just got hit in the face. As I wiped away the tears that spewed from my giggles I remembered that there is nothing in the world that makes me laugh as hard as my family does and I felt at home.

Sadly, I am off to bed before my eyes crust shut with sleep. I promise tomorrow I will write of beefy adventures and meat markets and beers and baby-bearing bellies, and coffeeshop non-welcomes and parents discovering their children sitting at the bar and haircut disasters, and of course, Wipeout. Until tomorrow...

Tip of the Day: Tell your family you love them but make sure to poke fun at their newfound bellies.

-Canadian Castaway

Goodbye Chi-town

2010-07-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

Day 320

Okay so I know this a total cop out. What can I say? There will be updates tomorrow evening regarding the zoo and the theatre and such. But for now, goodnight my puppets, I love you almost as much as I love to listen to David Bowie on repeat.

Tip of the Day: Sometimes you should go to bed early but shouldn't at the same time.

-Canadian Castaway.

And Continues...

2010-07-11T15:14:00.000-07:00

Day 319

Still in Chicago which as it turns out is called the Windy City because of an old cartoon about its politicians being full of wind. Anyway, last night we saw a series of 30 plays in 60 minutes. Here are a few of the highlights:

A line of people eating applesauce.

Actors spraying audience members with squirt guns directly in the face.

Actors smelling audience members. This activity they did so close it was almost like I actually got some if only I could remember what that is like.

A doll with a lit cigarette in its mouth. This made me wonder if the doll's mouth was actually made to fit a cigarette-sized object or if the hole was made by a pen.

A woman with her shirt up over her head getting hit by ping pong balls in the chest.

And finally, my favorite of all: A voiceover reading something that sounded like very tame Willa Cather stories but was really about a rabbit spraying semen on a grandmother's neck as told by a child. If that wasn't enough, during the voiceover an actress was onstage taking bites off a banana all throughout the reading and if that wasn't enough she would take a bite and let the live rabbit on stage take a bite and then she would take another bite.

So, the big outing of today was the stop to one of Chicago's street fairs. This street fair featured burgers and a washed up band from the 1990s. We missed the concert but ate burgers and cheese curds while listening to the music that was playing before the washed up 1990s music. The local School of Rock kids were playing 80s songs and even snuck in a Smashing Pumpkins number (fitting seeing as we are in Chicago). The best part though was watching this 3 year old boy on one of those bicycles that don't have pedals that tiny kids ride today (back when we were young we would ride souped-up trikes). The kid was just tearing around wearing his little Cubs hat and trying to miss his brother who kept trying to hit him while he was on the bike.

We went to another play this evening and while we were waiting for it to begin the old guy next to me leaned toward me and said, "Is this it? Did it start?" I laughed and a little while later he said, "You know I could be at home watching a Cubs game right now." I asked, "Who are they playing?" "Dodgers," he said like a reflex. "Do you think they are going to win?" "No," he scoffed also on reflex. And this is one of the main things I love about Chicago, the fact that everyone in the North has an allegiance to the Cubs even though they never win. It's a similar concept to growing up Lutheran, you go to church even though it never turns out all that awesome but you always hope something great will happen and make all your dedication seem worthwhile.

There is so much more to tell like Skyping stories and what happened at the second play but I am literally writing this while lying down and typing sideways so I will save it for tomorrow.

Tip of the Day: There is a certain way to hail a cab that looks glorious if you do not possess the gift of being able to do it that way then hang out with people who do.

-Canadian Castaway

The Chi-Town Adventure Continues...

2010-07-10T14:01:00.000-07:00

Day 318

Today is jampacked with stops to make and food to make and plays to make it to on time. The sauce for dinner is being made. My contribution to this evenings dinner: I guess I can do the dishes.

Last night we realized that yesterday I had been to the Jewel Supermarket three times in one day. So far I have only been there once today. But it was our biggest haul yet. We brought home enough ingredients for me to watch my best friend make breakfast burritos and make a silly video tutorial of how to make coffee while only mumbling the words, "cocksucker motherfucker" on repeat. Again, my contribution was the dishes.

We went to a neighborhood called Wicker Park today. When I was in Chicago four years ago it was a neighborhood that I really enjoyed. Now all of the indie coffeeshops are being replaced by banks and American Apparel stores. The only good news was that the giant bookstore and the record store were still there. At the bookstore we looked for a cat that we didn't find and read aloud from a Nancy Reagan book. After my friend finished the opening lines I asked him if he was bored and he said he was and I said, "Good, otherwise you wouldn't be my friend anymore." The record store had us diving through the 99 cent a CD bin. At one point we both pulled out two different copies of the same Cranberries CD. Apparently, they made a CD after the one that had Zombie on it. Weird.

On the bus ride back we saw a woman weaving between traffic holding a sign that read, "Too Ugly for Prostitution." And the guy seated across from us pulled a dog out of a cheap gym bag and the dog looked like a bat.

So, sometimes you meet someone and judge someone as a boring asshole. Shut up, you do it too. Today I did that and it turns out this person I judged as the most boring person in the world is actually very funny and wonderful. I am super glad he isn't a boring asshole but every time I laughed at his jokes or admired him for something he had said I felt like I was the asshole or whatever is beyond assholedom. Man, the world would be so much easier if you could make sweeping generalisations.

It is very late and I must go to bed or at least try to sleep in the heat. More tomorrow.

Tip of the Day: Buying paintings of Cyndi Lauper is ALWAYS a good idea.

-Canadian Castaway

The Chi-town Adventure...

2010-07-09T11:02:00.000-07:00

Day 317

So, it is the early afternoon in the not so windy but definitely hot city. I haven't been awake for too long but have found a break to get in a few words. So far today a few events have occurred. Here they are:

Instead of going to the semi-expensive coffeeshop to eat breakfast burritos with the flamer owner who we love chatting with because he is a bitcher we decided on the cheap Swedish breakfast place. When we walked in to find the place was blue, very blue, and hot and one of the lights on the "chandelier" was a metal shop light. Every unoccupied table was dirty and the waitress was sweating, smiling, and pulling the cord of an ancient ceiling fan. In other words, it was perfect. We opted for a counter seat. The last time my friend and I had breakfast in a crappy diner at the counter we got into the biggest fight of our friendship but I didn't mention that.

The breakfast came with an unpronounceable meat. The meat was very pink and in little clumps like a sausage with the type of casing that you don't want to know the origin of. And, it was delicious. We ate at the counter that was made for shorter people like used to roam the earth when that place was built many decades ago. Across the counter from us was a wall covered in the lids of pots like they were valued pieces of art and a photo of three women who likely lived out their lives slinging the mystery meat and getting looked at by men with potato grease dripping from their fat, cracked lips. The breakfast was amazing and I could eat that unpronounceable meat all day long.

After the breakfast we went on a little walk and wound up at a thrift store that used to be a glorious theater. Inside we milled around looking at the couches, Southwestern-print, floral-print, and Country-print. Next we moved onto the clothes sections and looked at glassware and then at the exact same time we both dropped our mouths in shock, started laughing and walked toward the same object: a painting with a woman on a black background. The painting wasn't so bad until you got close enough to see that the wispy shocks of yellow paint on the bottom was actually a kindergarten scrawl that read, "Cyndi Lauper."

We laughed and laughed and eventually left. But, we didn't make it 10 feet from the shop before we charged back in to the soundtrack of The Pixies. A few years ago my friend and I had seen The Pixies together and he had gotten nearly kicked out for dancing. Anyway, we slapped down the 15 dollars and carried Cyndi out of there as ours, like anyone else would've bought it in the next few days, or years.

After that whole scene we brought Cyndi back to the apartment like a trophy, scaring my friend's boyfriend. I went off to the supermarket to buy bodywash and go to a bank machine and then off to a Payless to buy sandals. It was during these activities that I realized the main difference between Canada and the U.S., walking down the streets in Canada is for the most part like walking down Sesame Street. Everyone you meet is friendly and smiling. But here, its more like walking down the streets in the movie Gran Torino. When people ask me what my culture shocks were in moving to Canada I say that they were little tiny things. But what is funny is that nobody asks me what my culture shocks are in coming home.

So, last night I attempted to re-cap the events of my traveling in a short list that I was going to expand upon today. To be honest, I am not so good at looking back at yesterday both because I don't have the energy to recapture it and also because I am super forgetful. But here are a few juicy details I didn't include:

After my early morning wake up I went out to the curb to meet a middle-aged Persian cab driver. We pulled away and I told him where I was going and that I was catching a bus to get a plane (long story) and that I was in a rush. He then decided to take a side street with very few stops. He told me that everyone says he is the fastest and cheapest cab driver in the city. We whizzed by a forest on either side for quite awhile with him telling stories about how deer are spotted there. I wonder if he had any idea how long it would take him to stop going at that speed and I imagined us not only killing Bambi but, being killed by Bambi. When we finally got back into the city he kept up the speed, the van bouncing at every bump perhaps 30 seconds after we flew over it. Then we hit a red light and I looked over to spot an undercover cop in the next lane but, apparently my driver had already seen it as he was rehearsing a speech he would give them in the event of us getting pulled over. He didn't pull us over but the appearance of him led my cabbie to describe how he deals with cops and how they never ticket him despite him being pulled over all the time and breaking the law.

So, after I luckily survived the cab ride I waited for a bus that would bring me to an airport 3 hours away. When the coach pulled up a little man who looked like a slightly overgrown and older version of Santa's helpers popped out. As soon as I got back on the bus he popped it into gear and began singing, "Here we go into the wild blue yonder..." in the voice of Gene Wilder from Willy Wonka in the Chocolate Factory. He made other silly remarks about the chemical toilet and sang the whole trip. At one point I leaned over to a man who didn't look unlike Prince Charming and whispered about the bus driver, "He's a magical man. He agreed with me in the nod children use when they see something amazing and want to keep it a secret. When we got to our destination he gave the weather report and then noted, "I hope you all have SPF 30 and floppy hats."

When I got to the proper airport gate to my Midwest destination I noticed something. 2 out of every 3 people were fatties (myself included). Later, when we boarded I noticed that the airline must find this hilarious as all the fatties were seated together, including me and a woman whose ass should've paid for half of my seat. The skinnies were all sitting in the same rows, all sleeping soundly in their abundance of space and in the comfort of not touching a strangers thigh against your own for three and a half hours.

Tip of the Day: If there is a coffeeshop with the name of the city you are visiting stop there it is guaranteed to be interesting, even if it's in a horribly boring way.

-Canadian Castaway

And the Journey Begins...

2010-07-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

Day 316

I have been up traveling since 3:45 am. I am now many, many hours, miles, and stories later back in the U.S. visiting a friend in Chicago. Here is a preview of the tale that I will write tomorrow as tonight I will have to pass out soon as it is a miracle that I can even type.

-Terrifying cab rides at top speed over bumps into the darkness while speeches were rehearsed.

-Deserted bus stop and mysterious hippie van.

-Cryptic tweets that resemble poetry of a mad woman.

-A jolly and magical bus driver and the not so jolly, not so magical bus ride that followed...for four hours.

-The American airport that didn't have a McDonalds.

-A long flight filled with fat people. In flight entertainment audio and video: a saga.

-Looking around the plane to see who was scared upon landing.

-Picked up by my best friend's boyfriend whom I have only met once and spent the day with him.

-Giant hotdog which was actually 2 hotdogs covered in a bricks worth of cheese.

-Teaching an acquaintance a new card game and then accidentally beating him at it so bad that he hated it.

-Finally, meeting up with my estranged best friend who has gained enough weight to look healthy and made me a bed and gave me two pickle spears.

And that was just the preview. I hope to provide all of the compelling details tomorrow. Goodnight all weary travelers.

Tip of the Day: Getting there is half the fun, the other half is bitching about the getting there.

-Canadian Castaway

Sober and Alert, Weathering, Dad Talk, Asshole with a Pink Mane, My Need, Need Number 2, What? No Tylenol PMs?! Fuck You, Farewell Canada

2010-07-07T16:05:00.001-07:00

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

Huge Freak, Math Dept. Weirdness, Post Post Party, Bedtimes and the True Self, Crabs and Followers, Tall and Boring, Hotdogs, Wine, and Not Me

2010-07-06T21:29:00.000-07:00

Day 314

This morning I had to say goodbye to Hank and realize that I have become a freak. Hank is the African Violet I won at drag queen bingo. He is a diva plant who owns me. I carried him and pushed Elliot (my bike) up the hill to the Math Department today. The whole time yelling at Elliot to stop swerving and telling Hank that we were almost there. Never did I grow up thinking that I would become a mother to a bike and a plant that I would talk to like they are human beings.

When I arrived at my friend's office in the empty bowels of the Math Department. I was telling Hank, "Now be good for him, Hank. And, don't love him more than you love me." My friend was all very understanding and yet giggly about the whole thing. Then we went on and on gabbing about gossipy things like hateful lesbians. We laughed and bitched and all of a sudden this blonde girl (who could've been a lesbian) came out of the darkness of the hallway and left. I wonder if she heard all the talk about how my friend doesn't do shit when he's at work and how I call people cunts.

I worked at Canada Post again today. But somehow it was different. I mean the people were still idiots and a-holes and my coworker called a customer, "disgraceful" but there was change in the air, a calm. It wasn't until the middle of my shift when I realized that it may very well be the last shift I work at that dump. I could just not come back after my trip, I'd thought. And I didn't even for one second think about how I would miss it there, in fact, to celebrate my potential quitting I took off 45 minutes early and had sangria with a friend.

I am doing this experiment in going to bed early. For the trip I will be taking shortly I will have to wake up at 4 am. Since I normally go to bed around 2 am and cannot sleep on planes or in cars this could be quite an issue. I am hoping that I will not be a witch to my best friend's boyfriend who is taking a week off work to accommodate me and is even meeting me at the airport. Would it be weird to text him to make sure he knows that I am a bitch and traveling for 10 hours is only going to make it much, much worse and that he should leave me a 5 foot circle of space at all times and never, ever give me anything that could be used as a weapon? I wonder if he'd reconsider me staying at their place. Shit.

There are always crazy homeless people on the bus. The great thing is, is that none of them are ever alike. The guy today was shirtless, wearing shorts and eating Jalapeno chips and making polite, albeit loud conversation with strangers about the weather in different parts of Canada noting too many times that he likes being hot instead of cold. What I wonder is if the strangers noticed that he was scratching his junk the whole time. I tweeted about his potential crabs (yeah, I tweet now) in the hopes that the people sitting on either side of me would notice that I was tweeting about it. They didn't but, maybe my 11 followers will. Yeah, 11 followers biotch. Well, at least I thought this was awesome until I realized that a follower of mine has over 400 followers.

Dear Santa,
If I am a very good girl will you get me 1,000 Twitter followers?
Love the formerly naughty,
-Emily

So I thought my favorite show, Toddlers and Tiaras, was on tonight turns out it isn't on until tomorrow. Instead on the T n T channel there was a show called The World's Tallest Kids (or some such shit). At first I was super excited about this and watched the tall kids with amazement until I realized that the whole show was just tall kids. And somehow, just tall kids is super boring.

I am supposed to be at my going away party tonight. A party that wasn't planned at all until last night. And obviously no one even asked me about my new sleeping schedule. I told the organizer that instead of eating hotdogs and drinking wine I had to do laundry, write scholarship essays, and go to bed early. She texted me back that everyone was coming because they thought I would be there. When I got home I logged onto Facebook and found a string of responses stating that people were to show up and make merry these comments hardly mentioned me. As if writers wouldn't get together at the opportunity to eat wieners and drink cheap wine due to their loyalty to me.

Tip of the Day: Vacuuming bugs is fun.

-Canadian Castaway

Writing Program Lesson, Scarring Co-worker, Going Postal, Sinking Whiner, Rat Tail Fake Boy, Scotchery, Beyond Bitch

2010-07-05T21:48:00.001-07:00

Day 313

Writing Program Lesson #23: If you mess up a ton on things and hear about it from your advisor it is actually a good thing. If there was nothing wrong with what you are doing you would be wasting your money on grad school or you'd have a bad teacher which effectively means you are wasting your money on grad school. But damn, it'd be nice to hear that you are amazing and perfect and astounding and wonderful and charming and not a sucky hack.

Today was pretty much spent in the Canadian version of hell: working for the Canada Post. Not only is my co-worker like three speeds behind me in the pace of working she also never listens to a word I say. The only good part about her is that she is highly inappropriate with customers without even realizing it. Not only does she answer her cellphone in the middle of helping a customer on the work phone, which by the way was a doggy insurance company calling, she also makes insane comments. My favorite comment of the day was when this guy came up to the counter who had severe scarring on his forearm and the first words out of her mouth were, "Look at your scar. You must've been a wild child."

Nothing much else happened except for me threatening to go postal in front of the customers. I swore a lot, rolled my eyes a lot and sighed loudly at a goth girl who took a long time counting her change. It must've been a threatening sigh as the black-eyelinered bitch started apologizing. I realized two things: 1. I had a bad attitude today. And, 2. I am convinced that this attitude came from putting up with the idiotic questions of customers like, "What do you mean there is a 4 dollar minimum? How about you just charge me for two dollars?"

After work I experienced the after-work hangover that is only cured by watching The Simpsons and Family Guy. By suppertime I had complied a list of nearly 20 things I need to do before I leave town. Instead of doing any of these things I was whining to my mother about having to do things like clean the sink. I actually told her if I ever get my own house it will only have tiny sinks in it so that I don't have a lot to clean.

I went to dinner and sat by a guy who is really fake with people but I feel like I got my comeuppance for his flippancy by saying, "You should really grow a rat tail you have the face for it." If that wasn't enough to ruffle him, I had everyone at the table saying he had a rat tail compatible face. That's what you get for not being real with me, sir.

After supper I completed half of the things on my list. I cleaned dishes and sinks. I wrote essays and sent emails, including an email I sent to my bodyguard with my essay attached for him to copy edit and the message full of bribery and begging. He responded and said it was great. Hopefully, this is true and he isn't just sick of reading my stuff, with it's extraneous apostrophes and comma overkill.Oh well, he wished me luck. But now I owe him a bottle of scotch, at least I told him it was cheap scotch as part of the deal. I wonder if he would've found more errors had I said expensive scotch?

I know I am a bitch but sometimes I wonder if I am beyond bitch. Tonight I deliberately avoiding a friend of mine on chat. It is mostly because I feel like I cannot chat with her and be myself because she takes everything personally and out of character and we wind up fighting or, we talk about boring shit that is a waste of time. But, I just logged onto facebook to get my karma whack in the eye as she has just sent out a message inviting people out for wine and hotdogs for a going away party for me. Damnit, it's like she knew I was a bitch and she is being super friendly to make me feel like shit.

Tip of the Day: Tarter sauce is no longer a condiment, it is a recreational drug.

-Canadian Castaway