The Faker

I rather foolishly elected to take on a shift at the bar, I think the paint fumes had gone to my head, and I spent the better part of the shift chatting with being chatted up by a coworkers' idiot younger brother.

Even though he's lived in Canada almost his entire life, and his sister bears nary a sign of an accent, he speaks with such a thick accent that most people find it necessary to ask him to repeat himself at least a couple times per conversation. I don't really know why he insists on putting on a forced South African accent, perhaps he believes it makes him more charming, but I know he's faking it - and that's just sad.

Maybe if I run into him whilst under the influence of liquor I'll ask him point-blank about the accent, but until then, it'll have to remain a mystery.

Hi/low-light of the evening: Running into my old roommate from first-year rez. She's going into med school, I'm going into my fifth year of a four-year undergrad degree - nice! She's at least nice enough to not dwell on my lack of motivation.

At least I was able to muster some half-hearted praise on her accomplishments