On My to the Awkward Club

You know what I hate?

When I'm walking behind someone, particularly at night, and they look behind them and get all freaked out like you're intentionally following them, women have mastered this. So you try to speed up as if to pass, then they speed up because they're afraid you're about to mug them. (Yes, at a domineering five-foot-three-inches, I am the epitome of fear).

Now, you are both awkwardly walking at the same pace ensuring that you will always be ten feet behind them, which according to beliefe is the perfect distance for a stalker to take. Then you slow down to a crawl to compensate for appearing over ambitious to pass them.
Great, now you're going to be late to your Italian club meeting.

After what seems miles,due to your snail-like pace, you arrive at your destination only to find that the person who you originally made uncomfortable and then in turn made you really uncomfortable, is already there and its all a funny little story you think of every time you see them. Such is the case now, with this girl named Lilly in Italian club.

Something whitty this way comes

God, if anyone makes it past that gem of a title, I will be utterly amazed.

To all who have continued their read of this, I offer my gratitude.

I guess most people know what they want to write about before they start a "blog." I haven't the foggiest or rather "bloggiest". (Wow, I am just on a role tonight). So I suppose I will just write what I feel like writing while I can. Later on, I'm sure someone, producer or editor, will be demanding me to write things in exchange for money, but until then I'll just write what I observe/feel/think/bitch about. Keep your eyes out for more to come.