PRESS SEVEN
In a fit of jealous rage, *amian elbowed me in the shoulder yesterday (or the day before yesterday), hard, (as evidenced by my lapse in memory,) and didn't ever really apologize for it either. Well, he said, "Sorry." But it was really half-assed and only came after I pointed out that he hadn't actually apologized, so it definitely doesn't count.
The theory is that he was mad that I'd spent an hour talking to "that dude" by the couches, but that theory only works if he did in fact elbow me yesterday after I talked to the dude - and I don't think that's how it happened at all.
The only other conceivable explanation is that he somehow managed to miss the fact that I was standing next to him - and how could anyone do that? So that theory is out as well.
Now, I never thought the day would come, but it is come.
This blog is starting to cause problems in my everyday life.
**ing out people's names isn't working. People seem to just intuitively know who I'm talking about despite the precautionary measures I've implemented.
This is bad when I get descriptive and creative about things I would've liked to have said to someone who has recently pissed me off, because, inevitably, they hear about what I've said via someone who reads my blog - and these utterances were never actually meant for their ears, or I would've uttered them myself in the first place.
Other problems are cropping up as well. For example, people I wasn't aware had the link to this blog, apparently do, and it thus gets a wider and more anonymous readership then previously anticipated. This is problematic because I get people coming up to me in school talking to me about stories I wasn't aware I'd shared with them. Some people think they know me. And they don't. Intimacy levels aren't matching up. My internet world and my real world are colliding. WORLDS ARE COLLIDING!
As if all of that weren't bad enough, the guy that works at my bank also apparently goes to my school. It was surreal seeing him there. I kept trying to place him, but it was really hard until he pulled a tie out of his briefcase and said, "Now you know who I am, don't you?"
I wish I didn't.
Who carries a tie around in a briefcase? Wait, who carries around a briefcase?
I'd better be careful. Maybe he reads this too...
Then, as I was going down to the gym the other day (don't get excited, I was only following *mar down - trying to call his bluff - it didn't work) this (really cute) guy says hi to me. I'm such a retard that I actually turned around to see if there was anyone behind me he might be talking to. There wasn't. He blushed. OH THE HORROR! Here I was, trying not to make an ass of myself, and making the situation ten times worse because I'M SUCH A RETARD! So he's like, "I know you from Frosh Week" and I'm thinking "Of course you do... GOD! IDIOT!" but I said, "I'll remember next time. Promise." And then I proceeded to fling myself down the remaining stairs to my death.
No, not really, but it's clearly what I should've done.
Then, I got a very interesting phone call today, but I can't write about it because THE WHOLE PLANET (i.e. too many people I know in real life) reads this. I wish I could write about it, because it's probably the best thing to have happened to me in a long time, but I can't.
Real shame.
Lastly, I miss Nelly.
"Dunja... I'm really drunk... my head hurts. Um I miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I was gonna come home this weekend and for some reason I didn't and I'm sort of sad because I really miss you and like I miss homecooking... I REALLY miss homecooking I like food. Food that's not greasy and disgusting or healthy alternative and disgusting, either way it's really disgusting and I don't wanna come home fat... fat like a cow because that doesn't really... actually that won't happen 'cause I'm fencing now I, I forgot about that... Fencing really, like it's like really a lot of exercise. Fencing, like you wouldn't think so, but you're weilding a foil - that's what it's called, it's not a sword, it's a foil, but anyway I don't wanna take up all the time in your voicemail like last time I did and some woman cut me off and was like 'Uh you ran out of time, etc etc etc' yeah um" END OF MESSAGE. TO ERASE THIS MESSAGE PRESS SEVEN. TO SAVE IT, PRESS NINE.
The theory is that he was mad that I'd spent an hour talking to "that dude" by the couches, but that theory only works if he did in fact elbow me yesterday after I talked to the dude - and I don't think that's how it happened at all.
The only other conceivable explanation is that he somehow managed to miss the fact that I was standing next to him - and how could anyone do that? So that theory is out as well.
Now, I never thought the day would come, but it is come.
This blog is starting to cause problems in my everyday life.
**ing out people's names isn't working. People seem to just intuitively know who I'm talking about despite the precautionary measures I've implemented.
This is bad when I get descriptive and creative about things I would've liked to have said to someone who has recently pissed me off, because, inevitably, they hear about what I've said via someone who reads my blog - and these utterances were never actually meant for their ears, or I would've uttered them myself in the first place.
Other problems are cropping up as well. For example, people I wasn't aware had the link to this blog, apparently do, and it thus gets a wider and more anonymous readership then previously anticipated. This is problematic because I get people coming up to me in school talking to me about stories I wasn't aware I'd shared with them. Some people think they know me. And they don't. Intimacy levels aren't matching up. My internet world and my real world are colliding. WORLDS ARE COLLIDING!
As if all of that weren't bad enough, the guy that works at my bank also apparently goes to my school. It was surreal seeing him there. I kept trying to place him, but it was really hard until he pulled a tie out of his briefcase and said, "Now you know who I am, don't you?"
I wish I didn't.
Who carries a tie around in a briefcase? Wait, who carries around a briefcase?
I'd better be careful. Maybe he reads this too...
Then, as I was going down to the gym the other day (don't get excited, I was only following *mar down - trying to call his bluff - it didn't work) this (really cute) guy says hi to me. I'm such a retard that I actually turned around to see if there was anyone behind me he might be talking to. There wasn't. He blushed. OH THE HORROR! Here I was, trying not to make an ass of myself, and making the situation ten times worse because I'M SUCH A RETARD! So he's like, "I know you from Frosh Week" and I'm thinking "Of course you do... GOD! IDIOT!" but I said, "I'll remember next time. Promise." And then I proceeded to fling myself down the remaining stairs to my death.
No, not really, but it's clearly what I should've done.
Then, I got a very interesting phone call today, but I can't write about it because THE WHOLE PLANET (i.e. too many people I know in real life) reads this. I wish I could write about it, because it's probably the best thing to have happened to me in a long time, but I can't.
Real shame.
Lastly, I miss Nelly.
"Dunja... I'm really drunk... my head hurts. Um I miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I was gonna come home this weekend and for some reason I didn't and I'm sort of sad because I really miss you and like I miss homecooking... I REALLY miss homecooking I like food. Food that's not greasy and disgusting or healthy alternative and disgusting, either way it's really disgusting and I don't wanna come home fat... fat like a cow because that doesn't really... actually that won't happen 'cause I'm fencing now I, I forgot about that... Fencing really, like it's like really a lot of exercise. Fencing, like you wouldn't think so, but you're weilding a foil - that's what it's called, it's not a sword, it's a foil, but anyway I don't wanna take up all the time in your voicemail like last time I did and some woman cut me off and was like 'Uh you ran out of time, etc etc etc' yeah um" END OF MESSAGE. TO ERASE THIS MESSAGE PRESS SEVEN. TO SAVE IT, PRESS NINE.
posted by captain obvious at 7:49 p.m.
2 Comments:
As you can see from the comment above me, Google's implementation of a word verification has suddenly become necessary. How convienent.
I couldn't stop laughing when I read the first 3 or so lines of your post. And I was doing the "Cock Knocker" re-enactment and you used your sneakers to "sneak" behind me.
Also, the star's do nothing...*ucking nothing! I swear sometimes you END OF MESSAGE. TO ERASE THIS MESSAGE PRESS SEVEN. TO SAVE IT, PRESS NINE.
i know who called you...i know who called you! nah*nahnah*nah*nah!
you are correct about anonymous ppl reading blogs! i did this neocounter thingie which tracks which countries are logging into your blog and in like two days i had ppl from malaysia and south africa and new zealand.. none of whom i know or are leaving a msg!
creepy...but only slightly!!
anyways, hope your monday is supEND OF MESSAGE. TO SAVE IT PRESS 9...TO DELETE PRESS 7!
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