Getting Back On The Horse

This is the first blog I’ve posted in aaaages. I don’t know how one goes from being an avid blogger to not being able to complete one coherent paragraph, but somehow it happened to me. In all honesty, I can’t say things will be different this time around. This may be the only post I make for a very long time. So it goes.

With lack of better things to write about today, I’ll tell you of some decisions I made last night regarding who is not allowed to talk to me (don’t even look at me for that matter) at a bar starting now. If any of the following describe you, I will not talk to you:

You are 4′10, wearing a gold chain thicker than my wrist, and named Yobany. I’m sorry. It’s just never going to happen.

“Goth” is a word you use to describe yourself between telling me about your T-shirt company, asking me what Hipsters eat, and insisting I am part Asian, despite my insistence I am not.

You are masculine, attractive, sarcastic, funny, charming, and gay. Dirty trickster.

You are staring at me all night and engaged. Does your fiance know you’re out staring at other girls?

You could be described as a hipster–oh wait. I don’t have to worry about you. It has already been decided by valid sources that hipsters do not approach girls. Thank God!

Alright, alright. Enough of me thinking I am better than the above. Tonight a bunch of us are going to Knott’s Scary Farm–so excited! Apparently it’s really a thrill. People sneak up and scare the shit out of you then chase you around with chainsaws. Could I be more excited? Probably not.

That’s it for now… I’m starting with baby steps.