I've Only Finished College Two Weeks Ago and Already Thirty Year Old Women Attempt to Hit On Me.

I suppose I could stop with the title. Why I think this is blog worthy, I'm not too sure. My life is pretty average so anything out of the ordinary (like this) will make it to the blog. So if you're looking for a thrilling time while your on the site, then try in-home body piercing as you read. That reminds me of a funny story, but maybe another time.

I had a lot to do today. Busy busy busy. I wake up at the crack of 11:32(ish) and hop into the shower. I clean myself, shave myself, and clothe myself. Afterwards I spend a significant amount of time on the internet checking mail and Facebook. I have a little breakfast (a two day old slice of sausage and onion pizza, a banana, and a glass of white peach grape juice. A balanced breakfast if I do say so myself, but what do I know, I'm not a nutritionist, simply an avid eater) and then prepare for my day of "erands". First stop, Old Navy. Buy some designer ratty jeans to replace my old ratty jeans. This is a complete success and a rather quick process since there are about six people in the store. After this I drive over to the St. Louis Bread Co. on Watson.
When I get there, I intend to grab a cup of coffee and use their free wi-fi with my new laptop. I wait in line, ask for the coffee, throw a couple bucks at Emma (at least thats what her name tag said. Maybe she was really Charlotte, but hated that name and made a tag that read "Emma". Seems reasonable. A lot of girls like Jane Austen [which still perplexes me], so maybe she was making a futile attempt at referencing the book "Emma" to which no one would understand or appreciate except for myself and other fellow women [not that I'm a fellow woman. I mean her fellow women. Ugh, why do I try]), and go over to the coffee stand to pour a cup of coffee. All is pretty normal. I release the valve to let searing hot hazelnut brew dribble into my cup. I go over to pour the cream and hear a whistling sound. Instinctively I look up to see where the sound came from. A women, between 30 and 35, smiles and does the dancing finger wave. I look around to see if there's some mistake. Maybe there's another individual she is trying to get the attention of. Nobody. I don't look back again at her. I simply pretend none of this ever happened and try to move on with my life.

Dear Thirty-ish year old woman from Bread Co. on Watson at about 2:15 on Thursday December 31st, 2009,

I'm sorry. Not that interested. Still unsure if I was the target of your strange and yet cliche attempt to flirt. I'm only about 78% sure you really intended to make eye contact with me. I've been mistaken many times before, so there's a possibility you tried to get the attention of another man with no such luck. Either way, I'm still a bit weirded out. I'm sure you're a terrific woman but I'm not really looking right now. Its not that I think you're old. Any number between 30 and 39 is a great age to be. But if this ever happens again, I will put a restraining order on you. And tell your friends not to follow your example and go after men in their twenties. Women scare us enough. We're terrified of your mental prowess and psychological warfare. We would rather deal with women who are relative to our age, not seasoned veterans in soul crushing. You will probably never read this, but thanks for understanding.

Your somewhat aquaintance,
Mike Lee.

Alright. That should do it. Have a great rest of the year to all those loyal readers out there (or rather, future readers).

My Strange Egotism and the Amazing Disappearing Christmas

"Your blog has been created!"

Read the little window just before this one. I now have a slight sense of omnipotence. I've assisted in the creation of something. Immaterial, but something none the less.

Welcome to my blog. My name is Mike Lee and I'll be your server this evening. Can I start you off with a drink and an appetizer?

This is my first blog. I'm surprised. I spent five semesters at Webster University trying to learn all I needed to know in order to become a writer, and I never set up a blog. Well, here. Here it is and I'm going to have to bribe people to read it. "How does $10 sound?" "$100 sounds better" "How about $50 and I'll throw in this snuggie?" "Deal."

If you think its weird that I talk to myself in blog, then you should see me in real life. Me and I...we talk all the time. Espeically on long car rides.

So...how was everyone's Christmas? Good, good. Mine was normal. I don't know what normal is exactly, but Christmas was the same as it has been for at least the last three years now. Really, Christmas for me has been on the downward slop of good cheer. It used to be magical and exciting. But that all ended in 1995 when we bought our first fake tree. Ever since, the spirit of Christmas has been there, just a little less each time. Now we have a three foot tall fake tree hidden well in a corner. Tragic really. Hopefully when I move out of here I'll get it together. Buy a spruce come Christmas time. Wrap it in lights and tiny glass spheres and figures. Make it come alive. I do miss childhood Christmas. Maybe that's when Christmas began to fall apart, when I was 10 and realized that the Santa Claus thing was a sham. I've been paranoid about everything in my life ever since. "Are you my real parents?" That's still up to question. Never saw the hospital photos so I could very well have been adopted. Or kidnapped. Never seen any wedding photos of my parents either. Something isn't right...

I'm going to finish this up. I really didn't know what to say, so my mind kind of went. Until next time...