white trash monster

there is so very much on my mind this afternoon.

saturday was frightful, i was amongst a few people i had nothing in common with other than chevy ownership, and one of them was like, king of all rednecks or something. i'm not sure how it started but after my 3rd or fourth sicilian kiss, i was teetering a lot, barely able to see and this mullety hick man kept following me around telling me about his chevy, or his "monster" and let me tell you i was none too pleased to have to have a conversation with this acid-washed jeans sporting creature about anything he referred to as his "monster". he kept telling me how special i was (i'm horrified to find out that i am appealing in any way shape or form, to your common canadian redneck) and that one day, when he gets his license (he's in his late 30s) he'll let me drive his monster. at one point he made an advance and i told him i didn't think my boyfriend would like that. he, having known my bf for some time, said "oh, no, he's a good guy!" as if to incinuate "good guys" share their girls.

ewwwwwwwww. i sound like a 12 year old. i cannot stop saying "ewwwwwww".

excuse me for a minute. i have to vomit. again.

at one point, graeme, of the t&g union, not the bros friend, appeared as if from nowhere to inform redneck and i that he drove a volvo. after which he found himself on the receiving end of a redneck stare down. imagine, talking to a chevy owner about a nasty european import. he turned away and left. nooooo, grrrrraemmmmmmme, come back, don't leave me with this man and his monster!!

i cried for mike who was hugging porcelain in the water closet, to come out for any reason i could think of (the redneck is a friend of mike's, so i had to make up something) and i finally found a massive spider and shrieked and mike came running and saved me from both monsters. effing thank god for mike 3 and his overprotection of all his female friends. what a wonderful man.

i passed out, fully marinated, in bed at about 4am and rose at noon, 100 per cent confused.

there is only one way to spend a day hungover. we begin with the bill curtis hangover cure (see yesterday's pants post), and then we find others like us, in states of varying degrees of dehydration, headache, dizziness and nausea. we then venture out in public with our group of similarly hungover people and make scenes.

ricky's was the destination for a 4pm breakfast, but we had to stop and get ginger ale first because ricky's doesn't serve it. so we drove to shoppers, and, momentarily forgetting that it is accepted practice to get out of your car and walk on foot into shops, ashleigh drove up onto the curb and almost right up to the shopper's door. she suddenly realized this isn't normal and we died laughing, half up on the curb in front of shopper's drug mart.

equipped with ginger ale, we're seated at ricky's, in the booth next to a man with a teardrop tattooed under his eye. teardrop tattoos are eerie, no matter which of these meanings it held.

our conversation proceeds a little like this:

a: jared from the subway commercials got fat again.

me: what? how do you know?

a: he doesn't do the commercials anymore.

me: i heard he's going to universities to give motivational speeches.

a: what the fuck does he have to say that's so motivational?

me: i ate a bunch of sandwiches and now my pants don't fit.

after nearly having our asses thrown out of ricky's for being overly jubilant, and entering the beginning stages of utter hysteria, we head over to chapters where a man who looks like scofield from prison break is fingering magazines in the mocha-choco-latte scented starbucks corner of the mega bookstore. tormented by the presence of his boyfriend, squish and i check out with books and postcards and head home to sip ginger ale, watch the freak shows on TLC and poke around the internet.

the whole day, squish was whining about needing a massage, so i thought i'd do her a favor and post this: http://vancouver.craigslist.org/rnr/109346690.html

and now it's monday and i still feel hungover. and people wonder why i don't ever do shots...

Currently listening: Silent Alarm By Bloc Party

posted by Courtney at 1:32 p.m.

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