So Many Verbs & Nouns

The purpose of this blog is to be an archive of the stories I’ve amassed over the last few years. I’ve recently discovered that some people find my stories very amusing, so I figure that to indulge them, and to make sure I always remember these events I will post them here.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

275 (December 2011; Winter Break, College Freshman)

I-275 is the nation's longest freeway loop. It measures in at 86 miles long, passes through three states, and acts as the boundary line of the Greater Cincinnati Metropolitan Area. One night, in December of 2011, my friends Jack, Ben, and I decided to drive its entirety in one evening (something Jack wanted to do before he graduated high school the following spring). Somewhere along the way we got off the loop and drove 40 miles towards Indianapolis. Upon realizing this Jack got temporarily frustrated, then considering the ridiculousness of the whole situation just pulled over to a gas station and topped off the tank. When he got back in the car I pulled up Blink-182's "Neighborhoods" on my iPod and we set off to hopefully complete our quest this time. The album held a special place in our mutual friendship group as we had eagerly awaited it, listening to each lead-up single immediately as they were released and always as a group. We were nearly silent for much of the album, occasionally singing along but mostly just enjoying it together. When we reached Downtown Cincinnati, just 10 mile from completing our journey I suggested a brief detour. We took 275 around the city once then got onto I-71 North. The other two were relatively inexperienced with the cities interstates and thus were not prepared for the beautiful view of the city lit-up against the now pitch-black winter night sky as we crested the hill. Rather cheesily I queued up "This City" by Patrick Stump on the iPod, but the view was still enough to overwhelm all three of us. We completed the last 10 miles and vowed that having driven the nation's longest freeway loop in one trip that we would never do it again.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Amateur Anthrosociopsychology (January 2012; Winter Quarter, College Freshman)

Everyday during the Winter Quarter of 2012 my friend Olivia and I had Elementary Statistics together. Almost everyday we would walk back from this class together and talk about whatever random interesting thing we'd stumbled across the day before. On the particular day we were discussing the actions of her roommate who was from the town next to the one where I grew up. She was growing unhappy with being away at school and had gone as far as getting together with an ex-boyfriend from high school long distance. Olivia could not understand the logic behind such actions; and so I launched into a probably misguided, albeit interesting theory about the effects of our particular area of Ohio on its inhabitants and their life goals. We discussed lack of transportation, level of education, socioeconomic class issues, racial diversity, and many other factors involved in the roommate's (and by extension my) upbringing. Even though we were probably leaping to ridiculous conclusions that were relatively incorrect the nature of the discussion was very interesting and thus we dubbed our new made-up field of study Amateur Anthrosociopyschology.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

25 Burgers (November 2011; Winter Break, College Freshman)

In the fall of 2011 my friend Bryan and I began a six week journey through our church called The Strong Challenge. Even though I was 170 miles away at college for the majority of the challenge I managed to watch all of the services online and meet as a small group with Bryan via Skype ever Thursday night. As part of the challenge we were asked to serve in a way which we hadn't ever served before. We decided on that particular night, as I waited on my laundry in the dryer of Lincoln Hall and he put off homework at his house in Clifton, that as soon as I got home we would go to a fast food restaurant, buy a ton of burgers, and give them out to homeless people in downtown Cincinnati. And so, on the day before Thanksgiving I picked Bryan up and we parked my mom's car at Fountain Square. We walked six blocks to the nearest Wendy's and bought 25 cheeseburgers. Over the course of the next four hours we traversed probably a hundred blocks of the city and gave away every single one of the burgers to people in need. Each one was extremely grateful and was amazed that two teenage boys had taken it upon themselves to do such a thing. It wasn't all happiness and cheerful service though. At the start of the third hour we still had a dozen cheeseburgers left and had struck out with nearly all of the last 20 people we'd offered them to. I could tell Bryan was starting to loose his optimism about the project (something that he almost never does). We talked to keep our minds off of the possibility that we would have to waste almost half of the food. I know I was silently praying we'd find some hungry people around each corner, and I'm pretty sure he was too. I was about to say something about maybe biting off more than we could chew (no pun intended) when the fourth hour came along and we started giving away burgers like crazy. After Bryan handed the last three burgers to a group of fairly cold, sad looking men I could see his face brighten and I felt a smile creep across mine. He threw away the bag and we walked a little ways before he said "Thanks for doing this with me." I thanked him as well and we discussed the effects the Challenge as a whole had had on us as we walked back to the car. I had never felt better about an afternoon than I did about that one. There's just something about helping people who really need it, simply because you want to. When we sat down on his couch that afternoon to play some video games and rest our feet I don't think we stopped smiling wordlessly for hours.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Dr. Funk, Randy, and Fred Durst (Summer 2011; High School to College Transition)

I knew on the day that I met Tim Miller back in 2009 that he would become one of my closest friends. We have always just clicked. Our sense of humor are perfectly in-tune, so it was no wonder that eventually we would start creating absurd little vignettes to make our summers at Camp Friedlander more amusing. The summer of 2011 was when our comedic outbursts grew both in number and in strength to an unstoppable point. These are the stories of three of my favorite creations from that summer. Dr. Funk Equal parts Black Dynamite, A Pimp Named Slickback, and Bootsy Collins; Dr. Funk was our resident funkologist with a phd in funkology at Camp Friedlander. Tim and I invented him one afternoon during lunch when he decided to dance around the dining hall to the theme from Shaft while wearing a ridiculous hat. We later conceptualized a series of campfire skits (which were more like attempts at SNL sketches) in which Dr. Funk cured people of diseases such Alabaster Abundnace Syndrome. The aforementioned ailment became the plot of the one and only Dr. Funk skit we performed for the campers in which Dr. Funk, and his speechless sidekick Nurse Bass, taught a white camp counselor with no rhtyhm how to dance, make a stank face, and do a funky clap. Throughout the skit a collection of staff members in funk attire would pop up throughout the ampitheatre and yell "yeaaaaah" (like Lil Jon) whenever Dr. Funk spoke of "da funk". The campers never really caught on to Dr. Funk, but the staff and the leaders enjoyed it, and we certainly enjoyed performing it. Randy the Overly Sensitive Body Builder Pretty self-explanatory, Randy was a body builder who was overly sensitive. He would help nerdy high schoolers and junior high students with relationships and get "SOOOO PUMPED!" whenever they asked girls out in cute ways or took them to see a movie. His favorite movie was The Notebook and he would always insist that the awkward young men "TELL ME MOORRRRRREEE" when describing their ill-fated encounters with potential female companions. We never did much with the character, but often used his catch phrases in actual emotional conversations to lighten the mood or to egg on friends who were pursuing new dates. Fred Durst One day during the summer of 2011 Tim and I were having a discussion, in which I made the comment that someday I want to remembered for leaving an important artistic impact on our culture, "you know, like Fred Durst." This was quite possibly the most sarcastic thing I've ever said in my entire life. I have never had any appreciation for Limp Bizkit and I have even less appreciation for Fred Durst. He has always struck me as a fairly dreadful part of a particular time in our culture. Tim agrees with me on this matter despite being an ex-Limp Bizkit fan. And so, it was from that day on that we would put this sarcastic add-on into conversation as straight-faced as possible to see how people reacted. For example, we would say things like "I don't listen to Kanye West, I only listen to talented rappers, you know, like Fred Durst." Or even things that had nothing to do with nu-metal wash-ups such as: "I've always wanted to start doing yoga, you know, like Fred Durst." The catch-phrase is unfortunately almost un-funny these days since almost no one actually remembers who the hell Fred Durst was. But then that was kind of the point all along.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Bad Movie Night (September, 2011; OU Freshman)

One night in September of 2011, I gathered a group of friends to watch Doctor Who in my dorm. After watching that night's episode and discussing possibilities for the next episode we decided to go to another friend's dorm so that my friends could force me to watch My Little Pony; Friendship Is Magic with them. While I was not amused with this particular program the movie we watched afterward was a life-changing experience. We began discussing bad movies, and someone suggested we watch a movie called "Troll 2". I had never heard of this magical film before, but chose to stick around and watch it out of my love of bad movies. I've watched some pretty hilariously awful movies in my day, but this film is by far the most terribly awful movie ever produced. Despite being called "Troll 2" its villains are actually Goblins, and it bears absolutely no connection to the mediocre low-budget horror film "Troll". The acting is worse than any high school play you've ever been to, the score sounds like something out of a mid-'80s educational film, and the plot revolves around the premise that vegetarianism turns you into a goblin. The most infamous line from "Troll 2", seen here, is "They're eating her, and then they're going to eat me. Oh my God!" The group of us gathered in my friend Olivia's dorm to watch this masterpiece laughed so loudly at this that people from down the hall actually came over and asked us to keep it down because we were being too loud. Granted, it was 2am. We of course took their request as an invitation to yell "Oh my God!" in the aforementioned manner at every slightly interesting plot development that occured for the rest of the movie. I have since exposed many other friends to the wonder that is "Troll 2", but you never really forget your first time...

[somanyverbsandnouns]

You Will Puke (Summer 2011; High School to College Transition)

At the Wards Corner Road exit of I-275 in Loveland, Ohio (the closest exit to BSA Camp Friedlander, where I worked as counselor) there is a United Dairy Farmers gas station. For those from outside the Greater Cincinnati Metropolitan Area, UDF is a gas station with an ice cream shop inside. And at this particular UDF worked a Russian-American woman in her mid-thirties named Bincha. As a camp staff, we would often go out at night to the UDF, get ice cream and try to get more and more ridiculous stories from or about Bincha. One evening, on a rare night off, my friends Tyler, Bobbi, Janine, and I all went to UDF after getting dinner from the local Chipotle. We went up to the counter and Bobbi and I ordered our milkshakes. Then, Tyler (always slightly indecisive) stood at the counter staring at the menu. Bincha asked him "What do you want?" and he just stood there for a second. He then asked if she could make him an Orange Milkshake. Bincha's only response was: "The Orange is sherbet. You mix milk and sherbet, you will puke." Tyler said, "No no, all I want is an Orange Milkshake." Bincha then pointed to the orange sherbet and explained "It's not ice cream, it is sherbet. You mix it with milk, it will not be good. You will puke. I will make you different orange drink instead." Tyler took her advice and settled for the orange smoothie.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Sad Song Night (Summer 2010, Junior-Senior Transition)

It was just another night at Camp Friedlander. Program was over and the kids were back in their campsites. The staff had hung out on Staff Row screwing around for a bit playing Water Pong and things of that nature. However, my friend Ben and I felt like doing something slightly different on this night. We were sitting on my porch with a set of iPod speakers listening to music, like we did most nights. Tonight would prove to be different though. As we sat and talked I noticed that Ben was in a bit of a weird mood that night. From this we both came to the realization that we share a love of sad music. Songs with emotional depth that, as Charlie in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" would say, make you feel infinite. And so we just started listening to these songs, going back and forth recommending songs. It was a fairly quiet experience, with only a few words shared in between songs, but nothing said during them. As we stared out at the trees and listened to those songs I got that wonderful feeling of infinity. Since then, Ben and I have often shared such songs with one another, and while this might seem depressing to some, the sharing of sad music is in some ways a happy experience in the sense that we can both share in the beautiful emotional experience that is music.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

I'm Classy Bitches! (Winter 2010, Junior Year)

I went to high school in a rural suburb on the far east side of Cincinnati, Ohio. On the north side of the city there is a large mall called Kenwood Towne Centre where a number of well known mid-level clothing chains are located (ie: H&M, Express, etc.). The mall nearest to my high school is best known for its Hot Topic. Needless to say, it is not a particularly classy establishment. Thus, one day in the winter of 2010, around the time Ke$ha released her breakout single "Tik Tok" my good friend Janet and I decided to make a Friday night pilgrimage to Kenwood to shop at these "classy" stores. Janet and I always considered ourselves to be slightly more sophisticated than many of the other people at our school (ie: those who wore pajama pants and WWE tee shirts to school more than once a week), so these outings were our way of bonding over common interests that we largely ignored at school. And so we were flying down the freeway, at night, in Janet's crappy sea-foam green Ford Focus, "Euripides", blasting the techno channel on her satellite radio (because we both also love dance music). A lengthy remix of "Tik Tok" came on, which prompted a discussion on how trashy Ke$ha was. As we pulled into the Kenwood Towne Centre parking lot with Ke$ha playing on Euripides's radio we both came to the conclusion that Janet's car, and our rural-east-sider selves were completely out of place in this part of town. After finishing our shopping we got overpriced cups of delicious "rare" hot tea from a store in the mall called Teavana and headed back out into the cold to find Euripides. During our walk from the mall to the car Janet said that she felt very classy with her tea and her recent purchase of dress casual clothing from H&M. As we drove out of the mall the original version of "Tik Tok" came on the Top 40 radio station (we had grown tired of the repetitiveness of techno). And then suddenly, without warning, as we pulled out of the parking lot with Ke$ha pumping out of Eumenides's sad excuse for speakers Janet rolled down her window, leaned out and yelled "I'M CLASSY BITCHES!!!!!"

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Childhood Nicknames (Summer 2011, High School to College Transition)

Over the course of the summer of 2011 my good friend and coworker Bryan and I made fun of each other. The two of us are incredibly close (almost to a scary degree at points) so this wasn't really an issue. Until we started discussing childhood nicknames. During this discussion Bryan told me that his dad had an incredibly embarrassing nickname for him as a child. Being a stubborn individual I refused to drop the subject and swore that I would find out the nickname by the end of the summer. While I have yet to figure out the actual nickname, I did manage to get him back for not telling me. Two or three days after the original conversation I swore that I would tell every single camper I met at the Boy Scout camp we worked at to call him "Bry Bry" until he told me the actual nickname. He ran late getting to the first day of the next week's Metalwork Merit Badge class, so I immediately volunteered to cover for him and told the whole class to call him Bry Bry all the time and that any time they had a question they should just sit at the table, and without even raising their hands, yell "Bry Bry!" as loud as they could until he paid attention to them. For the first few days the kids greeted him each day in unison "Hi Bry Bry". This prompted him to tell kids to call me "Tay Tay", which was not nearly as successful as most of the campers already knew me by my preferred nickname, Leroy. Then, on Friday, all hell broke loose. Bryan walked out to Metalwork, took attendance, and was bombarded with an onslaught of "Bry Bry!"s from every single kid in the class. They had obviously organized something and were going far beyond my expectations. They could be heard for hundreds of feet. Other staff members, who knew I was behind this, simply looked up at me from their classes and shook their heads. Bryan walked in to my class at the end of his, exasperated, and told me he'd get me back. The next day a camper walked up to me and called me a hipster.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Isaac (March 2011, Senior Year)

On this night my father's best friend from high school comes through town and stays at our house along with his fifteen year old son Isaac. After customary introductions and general catching up my father and mother go off to talk with Isaac's father and so Isaac and I are left to occupy some time. I awkwardly begin discussing music and Scouting with him (he is a Star Scout and an SPL considering Camp Staff in his area). Soon, and with no warning at all we launch into a conversation that I could not even have with many of my close friends. Over the course of a handful of late night hours we discussed everything from parents and religion to eating disorders and pokemon. The dominating theme though was religion and general awareness of the world. Isaac attends a christian private school (by choice after spending his first seven years in public school) and is about to switch into a public high school. Facing a drastic transition he seems to be in a period of questioning and uncertainty which is bothering him a bit. It reminds me a lot of myself as a high school senior about to make the transition into the college world. At one point in the conversation Isaac says "This is the most fun I've had just talking to someone in a long time." It is at this point that I realize that many people have not had the opportunity to communicate in this way with someone in their life which is a very sad thought. I spent many of my high school weekends with a group of artistic people who would always sit up into the late hours of the night with you discussing and questioning life. Isaac has made me realize that I am quite blessed to have had this group of people. Despite his apparent lack of experience in the field, Isaac is a born conversationalist and often made me forget about the significant age gap between us. His studies have turned him into an incredibly enlightened individual (peculiar at such a young age), which allows him to intelligently discuss things that I'm not sure I could were I in his shoes. What other private christian school kid would eagerly discuss the societal merits of Islam and South Park?

[somanyverbsandnouns]

The Voice of Our Generation (December 2010, Senior Year)

Shaun Evans is like a big brother to me. He has been ever since Fourth of July Weekend, 2008. That is another, longer, story for another day. This is the story of a day we spent together when he was home from college (temporarily) in the winter of 2010.

Shaun posing as "Shauna" by wearing Katie's wig, while Greg looks on from a distance. I don't particularly remember where all we went on this particular winter day. I know who was there though, it was me, Katie, Marybeth (a good friend of Katie's and mine), Shaun, Drew (My freshman, who at this point was a sophomore), and Greg (Shaun's best friend). I believe we were all out shopping on this particular day, but I know that towards the end of the day we decided to go to Wendy's for dinner. The Wendy's we chose to eat at has very small tables, so the six of us were not going to fit very well at one table, but we decided to try it anyway. And so, in the booth we had Drew, Shaun, Katie, and Greg. Then, at chairs around the end of the booth were Marybeth and I. The cramped nature of our seating, and the abundance of food we all ordered eventually led us to label the dinner "The Last Supper", in which Greg represented Jesus, and the rest of us were his disciples. I'm not particularly sure how this analogy came to be, though I'm guessing it was Shaun's idea.

Drew and Shaun at "The Last Supper" After dinner, we split into our two cars and headed to the local Borders in order to look at books and get some hot tea. It was on this short drive that Shaun and Greg presented one of the most interesting arguments on music I've yet heard. I have to preface this by saying that these types of conversations happen almost constantly around Shaun and Greg, but it is this one in particular which stands out to me. A song by Pearl Jam came on the satellite radio, and I made a comment about how much I disliked Pearl Jam because of Eddie Vedder's voice. Greg told me that I couldn't possibly hate Pearl Jam, because they were the voice of the 1990s. I asked how the hell a band no one could understand could be the voice of a generation. Shaun then brought up Kings Of Leon, saying that their unintelligible lyrics had already become the voice of the modern generation of alt-rock just as Pearl Jam had before them. He then gave a dreadful rendition of KOL's minor hit "Sex On Fire" which sounded something like "Youuueueheushueh Sex Is On Fiiihihihihihehihiehiehihre". And thus, from that day on Kings Of Leon became the "voice of my generation", whatever the hell that means.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Waiting for Katie (January 2009, Sophomore Year)

I wrote this account of this particular evening as it happened, partially as a satire of emo blogging, but mostly as a way to record my thoughts as I waited an ungodly amount of time for Katie (my best friend) to get to Starbucks. So I’m sitting in a Starbucks. Alone. The people I was supposed to meet here are a half an hour late. Dashboard Confessional is playing softly from the tiny speakers in front of my keyboard. “Breathe, Don’t you wanna breathe!?” I sit and breathe. I look around the coffee shop, there are people listening to iPods, kids playing a game and then there’s me, sitting, breathing. I have a girlfriend, but she’s grounded. I have some good guys to hang out with, but they’re all busy this weekend. There’s a guy at the counter chatting up the barista wearing a camo hat and pajama pants. Classy. The lights are flickering, but I didn’t notice that before. One of the kids gets up and walks over to a lady that has walked out of the back with a mop. They talk and walk toward the front door of the café. They have a similar face. “Have a good night,” the pajama pants guy leaves. I’m still sitting, still waiting. I don’t want to order my tea just yet, I only have enough change for one and I want it to last for the time that my friends finally get here. A bit of a line has formed at the counter. The girls skip across the café back to their seats and their game. Two young women wait for their drinks, eating their cookies or scones or pastries out of bags and talking. An older lady with gray hair and thick black-rimmed glasses stares absent-mindedly around, waiting for her beverage. A guy has been sitting on the couch by the door since I got here and I’m still wondering why he’s alone like I am. Maybe he’s waiting for someone. Maybe he’s out to get away from someone. I don’t know or care that much. The young women seat themselves at a table behind me. It makes me uneasy, them sitting back there with me typing about them right here. They’re forty minutes late now. I try not to be an impatient person, it’s hard though. The fans are on in here and it makes things a bit cold. A guy with a macbook sits down a few seats from me. He plugs in and goes up to the counter to get his beverage. Bald, late thirties, early forties. Dashboard keeps playing. Chris Carraba’s voice is getting drowned out by the smooth jazz playing from the ceiling so I turn it up a bit. I’m not in a jazzy mood tonight. A few months ago I applied for a job here. Never got a call. I never get calls from anyone. It’s apparently impossible to find a first job in south-western Ohio without working for Kroger’s or King’s Island, both of which are last resorts for me. Dashboard starts to get annoying so I try some Death Cab for Cutie on for size. Plans, a pretty simple album in comparison to the new more dense sound of Narrow Stairs. Ben Gibbard sings about marching bands and panoramic views but I don’t really pay attention. “I live like a hermit in my own head” That line hits me. Makes me wonder why I’m sitting here writing down everything I’m thinking and seeing in a Microsoft Word document. Then I remember that I’m still waiting on people. Starbuck’s is a sad place when you’re alone and you don’t have any inspiration. The lights keep flickering. Ben Gibbard keeps telling me my love is going to drown. I think about the next track. ‘Soul Meets Body’. An interestingly upbeat track for Death Cab, both lyrically and musically. Kind of the opposite of my current mood, but it’s too pretty for me to skip it. I rack my brain. Searching for inspiration. Nothing comes. The guy a few seats down pulls out his iPod headphones and starts untangling them, he is clearly tired of listening to my music and would rather hear something more his own taste. I don’t care. I stop typing for a few seconds and look around. A line has formed again. My friends still aren’t here. I’m getting kind of cold. They’re almost an hour late now. I turn my laptop down a bit. The crescendo of the second verse came out a bit loud. I just sit. I can’t think. So I just sit. When I finally start thinking again it comes as a wave of self-pity. I sit and wonder why I’ve spent the last hour sitting alone in a Starbuck’s. I wonder why I didn’t greet the man with the macbook a few seats down. I wonder why I felt the need to write everything I thought about into a Word Doc. I wonder why I even left the house. The lights continue to flicker. There are a lot less people here now. The guy who was on the couch is moving towards the counter from the bathroom. The girls are sitting in their seats talking, the game abandoned somewhere in the café. The guy messes around on his macbook. The baristas gossip behind the counter. A guy comes up and makes his order. “How are you?” “Good, how are you?” He’s talking to the barista. Not me. No one is talking to me. I’m just that teenage kid in the grey hoodie. At the black laptop. Listening to emo music and typing in Times New Roman. How stereotypical. I do a spell check, not because I care, but because I’m bored. It’s been exactly an hour since they said to meet here. The guy at the Macbook looks around then slams it shut, gets up, slams his chair and moves in two trips to the back of the café. I start to think that I hope I didn’t piss him off. Then I realize that I don’t particularly care. It can’t be my fault. I didn’t even do anything. “I’m thirty seconds from getting there”. “Thank God.” She says she has a story to tell, which is good considering I’ve waited for her for an hour. I mouth the lyrics out with Gibbard and watch out of the corner of my eye as the couch guy stares at me. He kind of creeps me out, but I try not to look at him. I tap my foot to the drumbeat of the song. The jazz is still playing over-top of me but I pay much more attention to Death Cab. Katie finally shows up. She tells me all about how she couldn’t find the friend she meant to bring with her and I tell her about my sitting. We order our tea and swap music. She laughs as she reads the beginnings of this story. Another friend, Mac, shows up. We talk to him for a while but then he has to get back to his friends. We decide that since I am hungry we should go to the local Chipotle to get some food. I get a barbacoa bol and a drink, Katie just gets a drink. We decide that we want to go to Border’s Book Store and sit for a while. I drive over and find the parking lot empty. The door says they closed an hour ago. I wait until she pulls into the parking space next to me and rolls down her window. We talk for a few seconds and decide to go to Best Buy. We get to Best Buy and get the same results. I take a picture of the deserted lot on my phone. She suggests Bigg’s Supermarket. We arrive and see lights on and cars in the parking lot. We park next to each other and put our respective laptops in our trunks so they don’t get stolen. We head into Bigg’s with a digital camera and some change. We roam the store taking pictures of anything and everything we find amusing. Romance novels, magazines, food, soda, bean bag chairs. I buy an orange soda for a quarter; it’s amazing that you can still get things so cheap. We look at the deserted Blue Chip Cookie & Yogurt stand; a remnant of when the Bigg’s building was like a mini-mall. We contemplate hopping over the counter and seeing what’s behind it. We decide against it. I notice a box of 3D glasses for the upcoming Super Bowl 3D something or other. We each take a pair and put them on, and grab two extra pairs. We walk about in the glasses, giving the extra pairs to some stoners in the back of the store playing on the bicycles. We take some pictures and eventually ditch the glasses. We get tired and so we sit in some office chairs in the furniture aisle. I suggest that we call it a night and she agrees. We head for the parking lot, taking some last pictures before we leave. When I get home I finish typing this story.

[somanyverbsandnouns]

Stories

The purpose of this blog is to be an archive of the stories I've amassed over the last few years. I've recently discovered that some people find my stories very amusing, so I figure that to indulge them, and to make sure I always remember these events I will post them here.