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.

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.

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.

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.

Sometimes I feel like my life is just one giant fart.

This morning began as any other Monday/Wednesday. Jeffro and I awoke at 8am to the soothing sounds of Bon Iver. I reached over to the nightstand, picked up my phone, and texted the bus to see how much longer I had to sleep in. After a minute or so, the bus texted me back and said that I had 10 minutes to get ready. I informed Jeffro, then dragged myself out of bed, putting on a jacket and some shoes (so what if I go to school in the same thing I sleep in?) and throwing my hair up into a ponytail. After brushing my teeth, I looked at the clock and saw that 4 minutes of my "get-ready time" had gone by, leaving me with 6 minutes before the bus would be at my stop.

Or so I thought.

Just as the countdown clock hit 5 minutes, we surprisingly heard what we thought were the sounds of the bus. Usually, when we hear the bus we have enough time to walk to the stop before it gets to us. So, on this day, we sauntered casually outside towards the stop, expecting to have plenty of time. Imagine our surprise when we got around the corner and saw that the bus was already waiting at the stop, loading the last of its passengers. And we still had to cross the fairly busy street!

Jeffro and I darted out into the middle of the street, forcing cars to stop. We made it across one lane, but the cars in the other lane weren't stopping for us. We could see that the bus was getting ready to pull away, so, panicking, Jeffro decided to take matters into her own hands. Holding out only her right hand as a buffer between us and the oncoming cars, we raced across the lane and towards the bus. Just as we rounded the corner of the bus and thought we were home free, the doors started to close. Fortunately, Jeffro had the sense to run forward and grab the doors with her hand, preventing them from closing. We climbed aboard the bus quickly and attempted to avoid the looks we were getting from those who had witnessed our somewhat amusing journey onto the bus.

... And then I looked at him.

Lately I've discovered that I end an awful lot of my stories with that line.

"So I was walking with so-and-so and they said such-and-such, which sounded really dumb, so I just looked at them."

"Today some dummy sitting next to me in class was chewing their gum super loudly, so I just looked at him."

I guess one might refer to me as "passive-agressive", considering that my favored way of expressing disgust in someone is to merely look at them. Consider, for a moment, just how effective this method of chastisement might be.

*Man trods on London's foot*

*London looks at him*

Or perhaps:

*Man steals all of London's money*

*London looks at him*

Maybe one of these days, when I'm feeling really risky, I might just add a "Hey!" under my breath.

Confession #3

I have a SERIOUS gum addiction.

The average American chews 300 pieces of gum a year. Over the past three years, I've chewed approximately 5,475 pieces of gum, which equates to 1,825 pieces a year. Fortunately, this addiction is less costly than smoking would be. It's only costing me around $160 instead of the $300 the average smoker spends a year on cigarettes. If I'm ever in public without a piece of gum in my mouth, I start going crazy and feel like I must cover my mouth if anyone comes within a 3-foot radius of me. If I (through a sad misfortune) am forced to go more than a day without gum I feel like I've lost my best friend--and I start going through withdrawal. While gum can be a good thing, I get the feeling that my addiction is not so great.