I know what I thought of instantly. My question is, did you think the same?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
My life is... Magical.
I know what I thought of instantly. My question is, did you think the same?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
The porcupine's ate your food!
Alaska. The last frontier. Who doesn't, on some level, wish to explore the state that has 640 square miles of land for every mile of paved road?
Fortunately, I was able to fulfill this desire recently. In fact, I came to know Alaska on a very personal level very quickly.
As my plane headed out of Seattle in the evening, I anxiously awaited the moment the tires would touch the tarmac. That was when I knew my adventure would begin. To kill the time until that moment, I began talking to my seat mate. He was headed to the same area I was, and we began talking about our plans for the summer. It came up that we were both going to be heading out of Juneau in the morning, and that I had no place to stay. Through some slight miscommunication, I had embarked on my journey without having anywhere to stay as I waited for my ferry in the morning. I figured it would be ok; people sleep in airports all the time right?
Wrong. Our plane landed in Juneau and we got off to a party waiting for us. No, they weren't our greeters. No, they weren't our friends. It was a party of workers. Apparently the Juneau airport closes at night, (who knew this actually happened?) so finding a corner somewhere where I could crash was out of the question.
Well, plan A was out. On to plan B. Finding a hotel. Not realizing that Alaska is number 3 on the list of states with the highest cost of living, I walked across the street to the closest hotel, asking for a room. They told me sure (Great! Why wasn't this plan A?) and that it would be around $200. WHAT. For one night? And at 11o'clock at night? Don't they discount these babies if they aren't all filled up?
Not knowing what else to do, I gave in to the bureaucratic hotel system and handed over my card. Which they promptly handed back, saying it had been "declined." (Side note: That word is the worst word in the world. Not only does it bring about an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment, it brings about a great deal of panic and stress.)
The lady at the desk looked at me with pity in her eyes, asking "Is there anyone you can call...?"
Hm. Let me think about this. It's 11o'clock in Alaska. Anyone I know is at least two hours ahead of me. Meaning it's one in the morning for them. And I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help out, but, I'm stubborn and independent. So... "No. There isn't. Do you know where the ferry station is?"
The lady at the desk handed me a map, telling me that it was just up the road about five miles, and that it would be on my left. She drew on the map, starring about where she thought it would be. Thanking her, I left the comfort of the hotel and walked out into the drizzling rain of Juneau. (Is it ever not raining in Juneau?)
Armed with my map, backpack, carry-on, and checked baggage, (all weighing over 100 pounds) I embarked on the real part of my journey. I began walking up the highway, which, let's be honest, was really just a skinny road through the middle of the forest. Being in fairly good shape, walking the five miles in the rain while pulling my luggage wasn't entirely unbearable. It was also made more bearable by knowing that my other option was to sleep in the forest, where an attack of a bear was surely imminent.
Finally, I made it to the ferry station. I sighed a sigh of relief, and... Had no idea what to do. It was now around two in the morning, 42 degrees, and still drizzling. So I did what anyone would do. I looked around for a place to sleep for the night. And lo and behold, what should I find but a covered bus bench? Naturally, I curled up on that bench and settled in for the night.
Unfortunately, my rest was short-lived. First of all, I'd been quite warm as I'd walked, but the longer I sat, the colder I got. I opened up my suitcase and began putting on layer after layer, trying to stay warm. While the cold almost put me over the edge, the final straw were the porcupines.
I'd had some food for my travels, and some porcupines decided that they would now stake claim to it. After shooing them away and putting my food in a more secure place, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep there any longer. By this point I still had a good four hours to go before the ferry would be leaving, and had absolutely nothing to do. It was too cold to just sit on the bench. Nowhere was open. There wasn't anything I could do, other than go exploring.
I walked down to the docks and looked at all the boats there. It was about this time that I realized that I was standing next to a building. A building with a bathroom. A bathroom that was more than likely heated. I rushed to the door, only to see a sign saying that the bathrooms would be locked at 9 pm every night. Ignoring the sign, I pulled on the door, and by some miracle, it had been prevented from latching! I was in! Finally, somewhere to rest.
But wait. A bathroom? Did I really want to sleep in a bathroom? Ok, who am I kidding. I didn't even think twice about this. I was just so grateful to be out of the rain and cold that I didn't even care where I was. I pulled my luggage into one of the shower stalls, curled up on top of it, and settled in for what was left of my night.
A little before 7 the next morning, one of the boat occupiers came in for her morning shower. After she got out, I called over to her, "Hey, is this where the ferry comes?"
"No... It's actually a couple more miles up the road."
What. You've gotta be kidding me! My ferry was scheduled to leave at 8, and it was now a little after 7. I grabbed all my luggage and wheeled it out, beginning to practically sprint up the road. Not knowing just how far I had to go, or how long it would take me, I was stressing. I just kept praying that someone would have pity on me and pick me up.
Finally, after panicking for 10ish minutes, someone pulled over and offered me a ride. I jumped at the chance. I climbed into their truck, and they informed me that the ferry had a new rule that everyone had to be loaded a half-hour before they took off. If these kind people wouldn't have picked me up, I surely would have been stuck spending yet another night in that blasted bathroom.
Fortunately, I was able to fulfill this desire recently. In fact, I came to know Alaska on a very personal level very quickly.
As my plane headed out of Seattle in the evening, I anxiously awaited the moment the tires would touch the tarmac. That was when I knew my adventure would begin. To kill the time until that moment, I began talking to my seat mate. He was headed to the same area I was, and we began talking about our plans for the summer. It came up that we were both going to be heading out of Juneau in the morning, and that I had no place to stay. Through some slight miscommunication, I had embarked on my journey without having anywhere to stay as I waited for my ferry in the morning. I figured it would be ok; people sleep in airports all the time right?
Wrong. Our plane landed in Juneau and we got off to a party waiting for us. No, they weren't our greeters. No, they weren't our friends. It was a party of workers. Apparently the Juneau airport closes at night, (who knew this actually happened?) so finding a corner somewhere where I could crash was out of the question.
Well, plan A was out. On to plan B. Finding a hotel. Not realizing that Alaska is number 3 on the list of states with the highest cost of living, I walked across the street to the closest hotel, asking for a room. They told me sure (Great! Why wasn't this plan A?) and that it would be around $200. WHAT. For one night? And at 11o'clock at night? Don't they discount these babies if they aren't all filled up?
Not knowing what else to do, I gave in to the bureaucratic hotel system and handed over my card. Which they promptly handed back, saying it had been "declined." (Side note: That word is the worst word in the world. Not only does it bring about an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment, it brings about a great deal of panic and stress.)
The lady at the desk looked at me with pity in her eyes, asking "Is there anyone you can call...?"
Hm. Let me think about this. It's 11o'clock in Alaska. Anyone I know is at least two hours ahead of me. Meaning it's one in the morning for them. And I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help out, but, I'm stubborn and independent. So... "No. There isn't. Do you know where the ferry station is?"
The lady at the desk handed me a map, telling me that it was just up the road about five miles, and that it would be on my left. She drew on the map, starring about where she thought it would be. Thanking her, I left the comfort of the hotel and walked out into the drizzling rain of Juneau. (Is it ever not raining in Juneau?)
Armed with my map, backpack, carry-on, and checked baggage, (all weighing over 100 pounds) I embarked on the real part of my journey. I began walking up the highway, which, let's be honest, was really just a skinny road through the middle of the forest. Being in fairly good shape, walking the five miles in the rain while pulling my luggage wasn't entirely unbearable. It was also made more bearable by knowing that my other option was to sleep in the forest, where an attack of a bear was surely imminent.
Finally, I made it to the ferry station. I sighed a sigh of relief, and... Had no idea what to do. It was now around two in the morning, 42 degrees, and still drizzling. So I did what anyone would do. I looked around for a place to sleep for the night. And lo and behold, what should I find but a covered bus bench? Naturally, I curled up on that bench and settled in for the night.
Unfortunately, my rest was short-lived. First of all, I'd been quite warm as I'd walked, but the longer I sat, the colder I got. I opened up my suitcase and began putting on layer after layer, trying to stay warm. While the cold almost put me over the edge, the final straw were the porcupines.
I'd had some food for my travels, and some porcupines decided that they would now stake claim to it. After shooing them away and putting my food in a more secure place, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep there any longer. By this point I still had a good four hours to go before the ferry would be leaving, and had absolutely nothing to do. It was too cold to just sit on the bench. Nowhere was open. There wasn't anything I could do, other than go exploring.
I walked down to the docks and looked at all the boats there. It was about this time that I realized that I was standing next to a building. A building with a bathroom. A bathroom that was more than likely heated. I rushed to the door, only to see a sign saying that the bathrooms would be locked at 9 pm every night. Ignoring the sign, I pulled on the door, and by some miracle, it had been prevented from latching! I was in! Finally, somewhere to rest.
But wait. A bathroom? Did I really want to sleep in a bathroom? Ok, who am I kidding. I didn't even think twice about this. I was just so grateful to be out of the rain and cold that I didn't even care where I was. I pulled my luggage into one of the shower stalls, curled up on top of it, and settled in for what was left of my night.
A little before 7 the next morning, one of the boat occupiers came in for her morning shower. After she got out, I called over to her, "Hey, is this where the ferry comes?"
"No... It's actually a couple more miles up the road."
What. You've gotta be kidding me! My ferry was scheduled to leave at 8, and it was now a little after 7. I grabbed all my luggage and wheeled it out, beginning to practically sprint up the road. Not knowing just how far I had to go, or how long it would take me, I was stressing. I just kept praying that someone would have pity on me and pick me up.
Finally, after panicking for 10ish minutes, someone pulled over and offered me a ride. I jumped at the chance. I climbed into their truck, and they informed me that the ferry had a new rule that everyone had to be loaded a half-hour before they took off. If these kind people wouldn't have picked me up, I surely would have been stuck spending yet another night in that blasted bathroom.
This is what happens when you spend more time at the library than at home.
Remember my gum addiction? Well, when I'm trying to focus or am stressed, my gum intake increases exponentially.
Yesterday I was a combo of both. As I sat in the library, I broke out the fruity gum. (Which, we must admit, is only fun to chew for two minutes anyway.) Slowly but surely, over the course of an hour, I demolished that pack of gum. Yes, the entire pack was gone within an hour. After I finished, I felt a bit sheepish, and thought to myself, "Gee, that guy over there probably thinks I'm some sort of freak for chewing this whole pack of gum. How embarrassing." But, since he was a stranger, I didn't worry too much about it.
Unfortunately, the same type of people frequent the library. As I walked into the library today, who should I see but the man who'd witnessed my attack on the pack of gum the night before? I sat down and began studying (this time without the fruity gum) until I heard a voice.
"Excuse me, are you the girl who went through an entire pack of gum last night?"
Shoot. He'd noticed. And he was confronting me about this. Shoot shoot shoot. "Oh shoot. You noticed?" I replied.
"Well it was kinda hard not to..."
Oh boy. Talk about embarrassing. We chatted for a minute, introducing ourselves, (his name was Benjamin) and he left. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. I flipped it open to a text from my friend (who apparently is friends with Benjamin) that read, "So I hear you can pound a pack of gum like no other."
Shoot again.
Yesterday I was a combo of both. As I sat in the library, I broke out the fruity gum. (Which, we must admit, is only fun to chew for two minutes anyway.) Slowly but surely, over the course of an hour, I demolished that pack of gum. Yes, the entire pack was gone within an hour. After I finished, I felt a bit sheepish, and thought to myself, "Gee, that guy over there probably thinks I'm some sort of freak for chewing this whole pack of gum. How embarrassing." But, since he was a stranger, I didn't worry too much about it.
Unfortunately, the same type of people frequent the library. As I walked into the library today, who should I see but the man who'd witnessed my attack on the pack of gum the night before? I sat down and began studying (this time without the fruity gum) until I heard a voice.
"Excuse me, are you the girl who went through an entire pack of gum last night?"
Shoot. He'd noticed. And he was confronting me about this. Shoot shoot shoot. "Oh shoot. You noticed?" I replied.
"Well it was kinda hard not to..."
Oh boy. Talk about embarrassing. We chatted for a minute, introducing ourselves, (his name was Benjamin) and he left. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. I flipped it open to a text from my friend (who apparently is friends with Benjamin) that read, "So I hear you can pound a pack of gum like no other."
Shoot again.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Does my face just scream, "CREEPERS! Come talk to me!"?
Case #1
I'd just turned 16. As I was wont to do on a nice day at that age, I'd gone on a bike ride. I rode up to the reservoir, where I was sitting on a rock by the water, contemplating whatever a regular sixteen-year-old contemplates at that age.
Suddenly, a random stranger is walking up to me from across the reservoir. It's quite obvious his purpose is to talk to me, but I try to ignore it for as long as possible. Finally, he gets within normal speaking range, and he begins to ask me questions. Why? I had no idea; I'd done nothing to solicit this behavior! We get through all the basic, "How old are you?" and "Where are you from?" questions, (and when I say "we," I mean he'd asked me all of those questions, to which I gave fragmented responses) when he finally asked me, "So do you think you'd want to hang out sometime?"
Um. What? Really? Is my body language not blatantly saying, no, screaming, "GET AWAY AND LEAVE ME BE"? Have I said or done anything that would make you think I would want to hang out? Have I even looked you in the eye for more than three seconds during this painful five-minute, mostly one-sided conversation?
Well, since those clues obviously weren't enough, I was forced to reply with a polite, "Um... Not really."
Sorry sir for hurting your ego. Perhaps you will pick your battles more wisely next time. And maybe wear an actual shirt, not just a wife beater.
Case #2
It's my first year at college. Being the starving college student that I am, I take on the first job that I can. Unfortunately, it's a cleaning job. Even more unfortunately, it's from 9:30-1:30... In the morning. In taking the job, I had to promise my bosses that I'd travel to and from work with pepper spray in my pocket (I didn't). Unfortunately, they didn't warn me about creepers IN the building.
I was cleaning the big glass doors one night when I see a man's face through the glass. After getting over my initial shock, I open the door to the poor man who, "Just needed to go to the bathroom." I let him in, receiving a promise from him that he'd be out in just a few minutes.
Well, true to his word, he comes walking back down the hall a few minutes later. That, naturally, was when he decided it would be a good time to engage me in a long, drawn out conversation. Now that might seem like normal social interaction, and in fact, it would have been.
If I didn't see him everywhere.
And by everywhere, I mean he follows me sometimes.
He figured out where and when I take my breaks, and sometimes he'll come there and try and catch my eye and "hopefully" strike up a conversation.
He (obviously) knows where I work, so sometimes he comes and walks through the halls and stares at me, sometimes being brave enough to speak a few words.
He even started studying where I study. (Changed that one quickly!)
It's been over a year since our first interaction. And he still crops up at random times in my life. He's a really nice guy... I'm just not exactly into the stalker type.
Case #3
I'm now in my second year at college, and obviously have progressed into the much cooler stage of "sophomore." No longer a freshman, I, naturally, strut around campus, feeling like I own the place.
On one such occasion, as I was strutting around, listening to my music, I walked past a group of *obvious* freshmen. Ignoring them, I walked on. Suddenly, I heard a somewhat muffled (because of my headphones) clattering from behind me; almost like someone had dropped a phone. Well, since my phone was in my backpack, it couldn't have been me, so I continued on. Until I felt a tap on my shoulder.
One of the freshmen that I'd just passed by was talking to me, and gesturing to a phone in his hand. I took my headphones out, and listened to him as he asked if I'd dropped my phone.
Me: "Uh... Nope. That's not mine."
Him: "Oh, are you sure?"
"Yeah... I think I'd know my phone."
"Oh. Well..." *Presses buttons* "It's broken anyway."
"It is?"
"Yeah... See, it doesn't have your number in it." *Hands me phone*
Oho boy. This one was a winner. With a line like that, how could I not give him my number? I punched it in, then walked home, chuckling to myself.
And yes, he has texted me.
And called me.
A few too many times.
Case #4
Tonight, as I worked at my janitorial job, (maybe it's the job that attracts the creepers?) I was suddenly approached by a creepy-looking young man.
He stopped me and said, "Hey. What's your name?"
To which I replied, "London. What's yours?"
"Pedro. Look, I got this tonight." *Hands me a fortune*
I look at the fortune, which reads, "Pay attention to the color purple. It will bring you luck throughout the week." I look down at my shirt, and, sure enough, I'm wearing purple.
Shoot.
"Ha ha (nervous chuckle) what a coincidence!" *Hands fortune back to Pedro*
"I was just standing over there talking to my friend about this fortune, wondering what it could mean. He told me that maybe it meant I was going to meet a girl..." (Let me interject by telling you that, at this point I'm wondering, what the color purple has to do with meeting a girl) "...And then you walked by wearing that shirt!"
Um. Ok. What? That's sound logic. He rambled on for a few more minutes before saying, "Let me get a look at you!"
He steps back and looks me over, head-to-toe, for a good 15 seconds. I stood there wondering if I should twirl, do a dance, or simply run away. After he'd thoroughly inspected me, he said, "I like your hair. Well, at least, the color."
Thank you for saying that my hair looks like crap, Pedro.
"Well..." I say, "I better get back to work."
"Oh yes. Go. It was great to talk to you. I'm sure I will talk to you again sometime. Your name was... Purple?"
"Uhhhh... London."
"Ok well I just remember nicknames better. So I'm just going to call you Purple."
Uh, sure, whatever. You can call me Purple. It's kinda like London. I guess.
I'd just turned 16. As I was wont to do on a nice day at that age, I'd gone on a bike ride. I rode up to the reservoir, where I was sitting on a rock by the water, contemplating whatever a regular sixteen-year-old contemplates at that age.
Suddenly, a random stranger is walking up to me from across the reservoir. It's quite obvious his purpose is to talk to me, but I try to ignore it for as long as possible. Finally, he gets within normal speaking range, and he begins to ask me questions. Why? I had no idea; I'd done nothing to solicit this behavior! We get through all the basic, "How old are you?" and "Where are you from?" questions, (and when I say "we," I mean he'd asked me all of those questions, to which I gave fragmented responses) when he finally asked me, "So do you think you'd want to hang out sometime?"
Um. What? Really? Is my body language not blatantly saying, no, screaming, "GET AWAY AND LEAVE ME BE"? Have I said or done anything that would make you think I would want to hang out? Have I even looked you in the eye for more than three seconds during this painful five-minute, mostly one-sided conversation?
Well, since those clues obviously weren't enough, I was forced to reply with a polite, "Um... Not really."
Sorry sir for hurting your ego. Perhaps you will pick your battles more wisely next time. And maybe wear an actual shirt, not just a wife beater.
Case #2
It's my first year at college. Being the starving college student that I am, I take on the first job that I can. Unfortunately, it's a cleaning job. Even more unfortunately, it's from 9:30-1:30... In the morning. In taking the job, I had to promise my bosses that I'd travel to and from work with pepper spray in my pocket (I didn't). Unfortunately, they didn't warn me about creepers IN the building.
I was cleaning the big glass doors one night when I see a man's face through the glass. After getting over my initial shock, I open the door to the poor man who, "Just needed to go to the bathroom." I let him in, receiving a promise from him that he'd be out in just a few minutes.
Well, true to his word, he comes walking back down the hall a few minutes later. That, naturally, was when he decided it would be a good time to engage me in a long, drawn out conversation. Now that might seem like normal social interaction, and in fact, it would have been.
If I didn't see him everywhere.
And by everywhere, I mean he follows me sometimes.
He figured out where and when I take my breaks, and sometimes he'll come there and try and catch my eye and "hopefully" strike up a conversation.
He (obviously) knows where I work, so sometimes he comes and walks through the halls and stares at me, sometimes being brave enough to speak a few words.
He even started studying where I study. (Changed that one quickly!)
It's been over a year since our first interaction. And he still crops up at random times in my life. He's a really nice guy... I'm just not exactly into the stalker type.
Case #3
I'm now in my second year at college, and obviously have progressed into the much cooler stage of "sophomore." No longer a freshman, I, naturally, strut around campus, feeling like I own the place.
On one such occasion, as I was strutting around, listening to my music, I walked past a group of *obvious* freshmen. Ignoring them, I walked on. Suddenly, I heard a somewhat muffled (because of my headphones) clattering from behind me; almost like someone had dropped a phone. Well, since my phone was in my backpack, it couldn't have been me, so I continued on. Until I felt a tap on my shoulder.
One of the freshmen that I'd just passed by was talking to me, and gesturing to a phone in his hand. I took my headphones out, and listened to him as he asked if I'd dropped my phone.
Me: "Uh... Nope. That's not mine."
Him: "Oh, are you sure?"
"Yeah... I think I'd know my phone."
"Oh. Well..." *Presses buttons* "It's broken anyway."
"It is?"
"Yeah... See, it doesn't have your number in it." *Hands me phone*
Oho boy. This one was a winner. With a line like that, how could I not give him my number? I punched it in, then walked home, chuckling to myself.
And yes, he has texted me.
And called me.
A few too many times.
Case #4
Tonight, as I worked at my janitorial job, (maybe it's the job that attracts the creepers?) I was suddenly approached by a creepy-looking young man.
He stopped me and said, "Hey. What's your name?"
To which I replied, "London. What's yours?"
"Pedro. Look, I got this tonight." *Hands me a fortune*
I look at the fortune, which reads, "Pay attention to the color purple. It will bring you luck throughout the week." I look down at my shirt, and, sure enough, I'm wearing purple.
Shoot.
"Ha ha (nervous chuckle) what a coincidence!" *Hands fortune back to Pedro*
"I was just standing over there talking to my friend about this fortune, wondering what it could mean. He told me that maybe it meant I was going to meet a girl..." (Let me interject by telling you that, at this point I'm wondering, what the color purple has to do with meeting a girl) "...And then you walked by wearing that shirt!"
Um. Ok. What? That's sound logic. He rambled on for a few more minutes before saying, "Let me get a look at you!"
He steps back and looks me over, head-to-toe, for a good 15 seconds. I stood there wondering if I should twirl, do a dance, or simply run away. After he'd thoroughly inspected me, he said, "I like your hair. Well, at least, the color."
Thank you for saying that my hair looks like crap, Pedro.
"Well..." I say, "I better get back to work."
"Oh yes. Go. It was great to talk to you. I'm sure I will talk to you again sometime. Your name was... Purple?"
"Uhhhh... London."
"Ok well I just remember nicknames better. So I'm just going to call you Purple."
Uh, sure, whatever. You can call me Purple. It's kinda like London. I guess.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Public restrooms are indeed public.
I love listening to others conversations. If I'm involved in the conversation, I have to feign interest. However, in listening to conversations that I am in no way involved in, I am able to ridicule to my hearts content. Take this conversation I overheard today in the bathroom being yelled between stalls.
Girl-behind-door-one: "I just wasted 45 minutes watching Pan-Am. Have you seen that show?"
Girl-behind-door-two: "No... What is it?"
"It's just this show. It's really dumb actually. I just watch it for the clothes."
"Oh, that's a good reason."
Now, if this last sentence had been said sarcastically, I would understand. In fact, I would probably say something like that. However, it was said in all seriousness. Because apparently watching a pointless show is more productive when you're just watching it for the clothing.
Girl-behind-door-one: "I just wasted 45 minutes watching Pan-Am. Have you seen that show?"
Girl-behind-door-two: "No... What is it?"
"It's just this show. It's really dumb actually. I just watch it for the clothes."
"Oh, that's a good reason."
Now, if this last sentence had been said sarcastically, I would understand. In fact, I would probably say something like that. However, it was said in all seriousness. Because apparently watching a pointless show is more productive when you're just watching it for the clothing.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Little Jack Horner
Almost everyone wants to know what their future is going to be like, right? It's even gotten to the point that people make a living off of being "predictors" of the future.
But how many people actually believe that what a fortune teller tells you is absolute?
Better yet, how many people believe that what a NEEDLE tells you is absolute? (Yes, you read that correctly.)
See, apparently there's this game. You tie a string around a needle, tap it against your hand, then let it spin above your palm. This is supposedly going to predict your children--how many you'll have and what their gender will be. If the spin pattern of the needle is oval, it's a girl. If it's a straight line, it's a boy.
Absolute hooey, right?
Unfortunately, when I heard of this game, I was not in the company of those who agreed with that statement. In fact, these people put 100% of their faith in this needle. One girl even went so far as to say, multiple times, that she didn't WANT to have seven kids, but the needle had told her, so it must be true.
Oddly enough, these girls didn't seem too pleased when I refused to "have my children predicted." Fortunately, I was able to save face by claiming that "I'd rather just wait for the surprise." Apparently, this answer was acceptable, considering that one girl said she didn't blame me, because it WAS rather freaky.
I just bit my tongue and continued to laugh silently to myself.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
I guess he really just wanted to see his surroundings.
Unfortunately, those surroundings were limited to... Me. Who is "he"? Oh, just the Indian man I saw in the library today. Yeah, he was making out with some girl and staring at me simultaneously.
No big deal.
It's not like it creeped me out much or anything.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)