Saturday, 30 June 2012

Space Bubble

The universe really does work in mysterious ways.  Last night I went to a hipster bar.  My drink was free because our mustachioed server decided I didn't need to pay.  Flattering, yes.  Things were going well...but not for long.
    We played Apples to Apples, a word game leading to side splitting moments so oft.  Its anarchist stoner older brother that still lives in his parents' basement, Cards Against Humanity, is the best game ever hands down though.
     We left pretty early because the birthday peeps Caitlin and I didn't even get introduced to, decided to call it a night.  I think my crew waited around in the streets like hooligans for a while then I got a burger and ran into an old friend for uncomfortable only-I-was-inebriated-and-probably-just-yelled-at-him-like-some-kind-of-maniac small talk.  Oh well.
     Upon returning to the swank apartment my friend was house sitting, we drank more and played Cranium, but only the acting cards like charades but with humming sometimes.  All I know is that if I can ever afford the beautiful fixtures and furnishings I saw last night, all my other dreams will probably have came true already.  It's almost my birthday so I guess I have to start formulating the perfect wish.
      It was time to catch the last seabus to North Van, so I soldiered off by my lonesome to wait with all the other reeling drunkards.  I forgot my headphones so I had a hard time ignoring some ESL buddy guy yelling "I LIKE YOUR HAIR, ARE YOU A STYLIST?  OR ARE YOU MODELING?"  Thanks and walking briskly away did not suffice.  He decided that sloppily mauling at my arm was the best way to win a fair hipster lady's heart.  What's more, yelling, "CAN YOU PLEASE SLOW DOWN, I'VE BEEN DRINKING AND YOU SHOULD WALK WITH ME....WHY ARE YOU ALONE?" would make me want to go with him even more. unpleasant as it was, I was set to kick some lout ass because I've started cardio kick boxing.  Roundhouse kick to the ear and run like hell, I can dig it.  You're probably thinking, "oh, the poor pretty girl doesn't have to pay for drinks, gets hit on, and has people offer to do seemingly nice things for her.  Life is so hard, isn't it?"  But in all fairness, getting hit on by strange drunk men, especially when you are not at all interested makes me feel like meat, a fabulous piece of meat.  I felt pretty icky as I came home, sobering up with each passing block.  Listening to the hollers of the midnight masses is actually really frightening to me.  To be honest, the droning of a thousand different conversations in  a crowd is one of my most anxiety provoking situations.  It's like being in the centre of a writhing mass of screeching animals, kind of like that scene from Mean Girls in the cafeteria.
     I digress, today was Father's day.  After work, my family went to my Grandad's house for dinner.  For once I left my phone at home.  Hoping to be greeted by jovial texts from my homegurls, or maybe even my man, I got slapped in the face by the universe.  Months, and months, and months after corning me on the bus and accosting me until I gave him my number to be his "class contact" in a second year psyc class in September, this creepy older guy decided to ask me where to buy recycled wallets out of juice and wrappers and containers and shit.  Out of the freaking blue.  Basically internest, trust in me when I say that if a girl doesn't contact you for months, does not reply to to your invite to your housewarming party a month after your class together is over, and never contacts you again after, she is not interested.
    Why do people in general decide that it is okay to talk to strangers?  Working in retail is a good way to become disenchanted with friendliness.  I suspect desperate loneliness in people that corner sales associates and those adjacent to them on buses.
I just want to clean my room, curl up on my bed, and watch the new season of Workaholics.  Having a romantic adventure would be nice too, I think I'm harsh anticipating my birthday and the possible arrival of real summer heat, nice weather, getting out of town, and kickin' back good times.

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