It's not that I don't enjoy male company. I do. Very much. However, I do not enjoy the kind of male company that involves a complete stranger coming up to me and talking to me. Especially if within the first five seconds I can tell that I am not going to like that person. If you're wondering if this happened to me today, it did. You know the guy that is in every town, that every girl fears? The one who talks to himself, consumes at least two packages of processed cookies on a daily basis, plays video games so much that he has callouses on his thumbs, believes he has been captured by the mother ship at least once, and confides in you in the first five seconds that you and he are destined to marry on Mars where his birth father and mother live. You know who I'm talking about. Every town has one. And he always seems to find me.
Somehow, I attract the kind of males that everyone pities but also scares everyone enough that they're not sure whether to be friends with this person or run away screaming like someone had informed them that chocolate is no longer available for consumption. I don't know what it is about me that is so attractive to these guys. Maybe it's because I look helpless - in which case I should probably buy combat boots and a wickedly menacing looking black trench coats with spikes. Then again, maybe it's just because I'm nice. I really need to stop smiling at complete strangers.
Yes, it's true. I am flypaper for freaks. They find me. Then they stick to me. Then, inevitably, I look like a freak. So no normal guy asks me out. Okay, so that's not entirely true. I did go out with a normal guy, fairly recently, as a matter of fact. He was what every girl dreams of: tall, dark, handsome, witty, smart and a complete gentleman. Unfortunately he hasn't called and asked for a second date. Maybe it's because he saw the reaction I got from the little 16-year-old wearing a "Kiss me I'm a Nerd" shirt at the restaurant we went to. He winked at me. And tried to smile. At least, I think he was trying to smile. His top lip got caught on his braces.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Today Smelled Like Old Bacon
At one point in your life you will meet someone who is vivacious, bright, witty, and beautiful. This, is not that time. My name is Tasha. I am clumsy, sarcastic and I hate getting out of my bed in the morning. I make no claims for this being a particularly interesting or enthralling tale of my current life - mostly because my life is neither interesting nor enthralling. Part of the problem is that I'm a history major. I like dead people better than most living people. They're easier to get along with for one thing.
I'm honestly no sure what to do with a blog. Most blogs I've read are authored either by eclectic authors or mothers who have something fun to say about their kids. Since I'm not an author and I am also not a mother (although I do have a beagle who thinks she is a baby), I guess I will just tell you about my day.
My day started with the sound of an oven beeper - which of course meant that I was finished. I hate my alarm clock. After rolling out of bed and onto the floor (a common occurrence), I stumbled down to eat breakfast. Frosted Flakes aren't entirely appealing when you're fully lucid, which is why I believe they are marketed as a breakfast cereal - at 7:00 am no one really cares what they are ingesting. After slurping down my cereal, I got ready for school and exited my home to be greeted by none other than Jack Frost. If I could see him I would punch him in the face. As it was, I just shouted something mean at him. When I got to school, I sat down, hoping to go through my day as an inconspicuous person in a classroom. It was sadly not to be. Someone sat down next to me. He smelled like bacon. Old bacon. I think my face went a little green. I don't remember much about my first class. I think the fumes overwhelmed by power to think. I do remember stumbling out of class and down the hall, outside to my next class. I gasped for clean air. Instead I inhaled smog. After chewing my air, I went inside for another class. The rest of the day was pretty much the same - I even think it smelled like old bacon for most of the day.
I'm honestly no sure what to do with a blog. Most blogs I've read are authored either by eclectic authors or mothers who have something fun to say about their kids. Since I'm not an author and I am also not a mother (although I do have a beagle who thinks she is a baby), I guess I will just tell you about my day.
My day started with the sound of an oven beeper - which of course meant that I was finished. I hate my alarm clock. After rolling out of bed and onto the floor (a common occurrence), I stumbled down to eat breakfast. Frosted Flakes aren't entirely appealing when you're fully lucid, which is why I believe they are marketed as a breakfast cereal - at 7:00 am no one really cares what they are ingesting. After slurping down my cereal, I got ready for school and exited my home to be greeted by none other than Jack Frost. If I could see him I would punch him in the face. As it was, I just shouted something mean at him. When I got to school, I sat down, hoping to go through my day as an inconspicuous person in a classroom. It was sadly not to be. Someone sat down next to me. He smelled like bacon. Old bacon. I think my face went a little green. I don't remember much about my first class. I think the fumes overwhelmed by power to think. I do remember stumbling out of class and down the hall, outside to my next class. I gasped for clean air. Instead I inhaled smog. After chewing my air, I went inside for another class. The rest of the day was pretty much the same - I even think it smelled like old bacon for most of the day.
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