Dream Phone Date, epilogue

So the debate over whether the invite to dinner last week was a date or not has been settled. It was actually pretty obvious that night that the Boy from Class was just extending a friendly invite. But as of 3 minutes ago, Boy from Class' intentions became clear.
While I was over, he made this whole thing about taking some vitamins with dinner. His brother made fun of him and everything. I mentioned that I just started taking supplements again because I chose not to risk any sort of contamination that could result from taking vitamins and get me in trouble if we got drug tested. Whatever. Small talk bullshit that you make with people you don't really know.

Well, he sent me an e-mail a couple days later, sending me some information about the brand he uses, which he swears by.

I thought this was weird, but when I mentioned it to my gym buddy, she thought it was sweet that he had thought about me and made the effort to get in touch again. So, I politely e-mailed him back thanking him for dinner and the information, which I did not look at, teased him for being a good salesman and asked him where one could even buy the stuff.

Oh. That was the point.

He sells the shit.

So, while I had been thinking that, at the least I had been making friends with someone and at the most went on a date with a very socially awkward, shy individual, I had not even considered that I had been singled out because of my small talk about rugby and my knee injury as someone who might be interested in becoming a "personal client" of a supplement company's sales associate.

My love life has just hit bottom.

I hope.

Five Senses Friday IV

Feeling:

Content. I'm the best TA ever. Two days in a row I have had students walk out of their way to keep chatting with me. I love those babies.

Smelling:

The lingering perfume of my now binned lillies. I will have to buy fresh flowers soon - they are too lovely.

Hearing:

 Boots of Spanish Leather by Bob Dylan. This was a song I never ever thought I could ever forget about, yet I somehow did. I just found it again, and it is so beautiful and reminds me so much of myself that I almost cry whenever I hear it.

Tasting:

The bitterness of my cat's scorn. She just slapped me.

Seeing:

The McGill Men's rugby finals in 2 hours. In the rain. I can't wait.

Can't mark anymore midterms

My cat is eating my flowers and I am trying to deduce if I was just asked out by a boy in my class.

"Hey, what's your number? You should come have dinner with my brother and I tonight."

Date?

With brother.

Weird kinky date?
Where is my extensive network of girlfriends to sit around with me and help me figure this out? A girl can't play Dream Phone alone!

Camping in the Library

Why oh why did I promise my students I would get their midterms back this week? Because I forgot I had to finish my thesis proposal, didn't realize I would need to read 120 pages of the Kindly Ones daily, and neglected the necessity of actually doing the readings for the course I'm T.A.ing.

So I am currently "working" in the library for the inaugural time here at McGill. I'm cranky and hungry.

Also, I am officially officially too old to binge drink. I slept until 12:30 today. How unacceptable. Tomorrow, up at 6:30 and off to yoga. It's gotta happen.

(hang-over induced) heartburn induced insomnia

Oh Halloween. How I cannot wait to not be hungover and be in possession of sale-price candy tomorrow. Does oatmeal soothe heartburn?

So last night was my Halloween outing. It was not fun. My costume - an elaborate Carmen SanDiego - was, granted, flawless, but the party I ended up at was so wildly underwhelming. In the gay village, and almost entirely francophone. Sweeeeeet. I drank vodka water and spoke to virtually no one.
Wait. That is not true. There was a boy who looked like Brad Dourif, circa One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. While Claire and I were waiting in line for the bathroom, this boy started chatting to us about our costumes - Claire was an impressive John Galliano - and was generally friendly. We went into the bathroom together, and upon emerging, he inquired as to what we were doing in there. I don't think, in my vodka water induced blur, I was able to muster the facial expression that best expressed my emotion (somewhere between indignation and curiosity, with just a hint of amusement) before he clarified "which drugs?"

I guess I live in Montreal now...

I was popular on the 4:30 am walk home. "Hey Carmen! I found you!" "There's Carmen SanDiego!" "awesome!" I chatted briefly with the Ghostbusters. The 20 minute walk was more enjoyable than the 3 hours spent at the party.

To add insult to no-fun, I was surprisingly hung over today. I am too old to drink I think. I felt totally sober on the walk home, drank over a litre of water before bed, and still, still I am suffering from 1 am heartburn.

Perhaps not entirely the fault of the vodka. I did make some questionable dietary choices today. Lasagna, risotto, beer, beef and barley soup, nachos, a latte, and the most amazing brownie I has ever wrapped my lips around. All within the span of 4 hours or so. I can never pass up lunch at Ye Olde with Cam, even if I have just binged on leftovers. Hair of the dog followed by coffee is surprisingly effective at lessening the pangs of dehydration though, fyi.

Reality consisting of more frantic midterm marking, a 120 page reading quota, and a thesis proposal draft by Wednesday will be crashing down when my obnoxious alarm clock goes off in 6 hours...

Wafflesexual

So the Martlets lost in the semi-finals yesterday. I am not overly surprised - we were playing Laval, and they are a very talented team. Beatable, certainly, but a tough battle nonetheless. I was very crushed to have been taken off halfway through the second half. I missed a huge tackle, which resulted in a try, and as I was jogging back after the kick, after having cried in the end zone out of shame, convincing myself that I was going to redeem myself, Francois subbed me out. I am still mortified over it.

So I went out and got rather drunk last night. Had some beers, played some pool. Bought groceries at 1:00 am. Took home a package of Belgian waffles.

I no longer bring boys home from the bar - I bring waffles.

And every short lived moment spent with them is sinful, indulgent, and ultimately regrettable.

Rugby Homework?

I have to write warm fuzzies about all my McGill team mates as homework tonight. I have absolutely zero desire to do this. I don't really like half my teammates, and am confident that they don't like me, and I really don't want to hear the contrived niceties they throw my way.

Warm fuzzies are not ever a good idea. Even when I played on a team I loved deeply and was intensely loyal too, I'm pretty sure everyone just commented about my love of A Shot At Love with Tila Tequila