BlakeRoberson.net

How did I not hear about the girl stabbing another girl in the face in a fight over a parking spot at MTSU last year?

That must have really been a primo spot.

I’m flying to New Orleans today. Flying isn’t really my favorite thing to do. Good thing today is the day that the Nashville International Airport will be inciting mass panic by way of a “full-scale disaster exercise” involving a pretend plane crash complete with painted-up victims and emergency vehicles and helicopters and fake news crews and probably smoke bombs galore.

Before you read this, here is the back story: This girl, who we will call “The Neighbor”, and I know each other through several mutual friends. She basically lives down the street from me. Around Christmas, she and I went to dinner one night. Although, she’s nice and very pretty, our personalities are very different. Needless to say it didn’t work out. No big deal. Since then she started dating a guy who has temporarily moved out of state for his job. She and I talk maybe once every week or two, so it’s not like communication between us is completely out of the blue.

With that said here is the conversation she and I had yesterday via text.   

Me: You want to go watch a movie with me tomorrow night?
The Neighbor: Just you and me?
Me: Yeah. Is that ok?
The Neighbor: You know I’m not going to do that.
Me: I’m not asking you on a date. I just wanted to go watch a movie.
The Neighbor: But it’s not like we are good friends – it would be different if we were.
Me: I guess. I thought we were friends nonetheless. I didn’t realize we had to be bffs to hang out.
The Neighbor: We don’t have to be. Sorry, I’m not trying to sound rude.

I didn’t respond.

Ouch!

I know this is bad, but I saw it on the internets and it made me laugh.

“Go to a church on Easter. Every time someone says “he has risen,” yell “that’s what she said!” It’ll be fun!”

Ehhh… I’m going to hell.

The other day I received an interoffice envelop from my friend at work. It was addressed as follows:

For those of you who don’t know; I work on the 5th floor.

It should be noted, that I’ve talked to this girl almost everyday since she started working here, sent her a Christmas/birthday card for the past several years, and actually almost moved in with her at one point.

I would think by now that she would know how to spell my name and what floor I work on.

After I called her out on this, it turns out the name thing was just to mess with me. The mistake on which floor I work on was due to her having a blonde moment.

Awhile ago I set the alarm on my phone to be a “quack” sound.

It seriously took me a week before I realized why I was always having dreams about ducks.

Yesterday I ate an “Organic Pop-Tart”…

Yeah I was stumped by that too so I looked it up. Wikipedia says, “Organic foods are produced according to certain production standards, meaning they are grown without the use of conventional pesticides, artificial fertilizers, human waste, or sewage sludge, and that they were processed without ionizing radiation or food additives.”

While it’s fun to think that my 100% completely processed fruit pastry was made without the use of human waste and food additives, I somehow doubt it.

Two odd things have recently happened to me:

1. As I was landing in New York, the flight attendants came by and did their thing and asked everyone to return their seats to their upright positions, close all tray tables, and turn off all electronic devices. About two minutes later I hear some guy yell extremely loudly, “TURN IT OFF!!!”

Turns out that some guy’s computer was taking a little while to shut down and the yelling guy was apparently extremely impatient. 

2. The night in D.C. that Michael, Mandy, and I were bar hopping, we walked by this random bar that was playing Bob Marley. Since all the bars there seemed the same to me I suggested that we go in that one. It was then that some random guy standing next to the entrance of this bar looks at me and very angrily yells, “F!@# YOU!” and starts walking in my direction. At first I was stunned by this unprovoked anger towards me. Then as I’m quickly sizing him up, I realized that this guy was probably legitimately nuts. Then of course the ole brain kicked it and I decided to go with reason and I gave the guy the, “Whatever man!” as I walked away and removed myself from the situation.

While I know that walking away from the crazy guy was definitely the right thing to do, it doesn’t mean that I’m still not mad about it. So with that said, let it be known that from this point forward, forever as long as I live, if I’m ever contemplating walking into a bar and/or sitting on an airplane and someone randomly yells at me, I’m punching them in the face, no questions asked.

Saturday I went to Petsmart to pick up some things for my fish tank. As I’m looking at various aquarium light bulbs and tubes I notice, out of the corner of my eye, this attractive brunette walk by. I found all the things I needed and I decided to check out the cat aisle to see if I could find something for Mallory while I was there.

As I’m walking, I’m just looking down the various aisles and I happen to see the brunette. She turns, looks at me, and we make eye contact. Suddenly, a terribly angry scowl appears on my face instead of the smile that is normally there when I make eye contact with a pretty girl.

She returns the heated glare.

I keep walking.

I hate this girl for some reason.

After I turned into the cat aisle, I stood there for a minute, confused by what just happened and my feelings towards this random stranger. It just didn’t make any sense.

When I got to the cash register, I see the brunette again. She’s in a different line than me. We again exchange hateful looks.

She looks away. I can tell she’s just as baffled by this as I am.

For the next couple of minutes we both stood there awkwardly trying very hard to avoid looking at one another.

Her line moved faster than mine and as she was leavening, we both stole loathing glances out of the corner of our eyes.

I clenched my jaw as she made her way out of my peripheral vision and I secretly hoped she was going out to her car to cry.

Last night I ran 4.5 miles, went home, ate some dinner, laid on the couch, watched How I Met Your Mother, and feel asleep.

I woke up around 9:00, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning I felt like I couldn’t believe that it was already time to go back to work. Also, I seemed to have developed a thing for listing out what I did in sentence form.