Hello all. By all, I mean my avid readers: My mom, and (if I’m lucky) two of my three roommates. I have a quick story because nothing exciting has happened to me lately.

This happened on one of the first days of classes this year. It was a typical August morning here at Mizzou; hot, humid and overall just really shitty. I remember I was in a particularly bad mood this day  because I’d fallen off my dresser trying to gracefully hop off my top bunk earlier that morning. This isn’t a major problem for most people, but I happen to have cheap Irish skin so I bruise like a god damn peach. I looked like a victim of domestic violence, except I’m single as fuck.

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Before proceeding, I should just come out and say it: I fucking hate people. I mean yeah, I have lots of friends and I love going out and partying and shit, but large groups of strangers make me incredibly uncomfortable. No, that’s not even it. They just make me want to hang myself. Last year, I used to sit in the allergy section of the dining hall just to avoid people. I have no major food allergies of any kind. I’m just weird. You know how uptight white people cross the street when black people walk towards them on sidewalks? I cross no matter who’s coming towards me. I’m racist… like, towards the human race. I hate everyone equally. Actually, I’m looking to invest in an incredibly intimidating pit bull because I hear they scare the shit out of people. If I had one of those fuckers no one would EVER come up to me. When I walk to class, I always have headphones. I’m going to level with you, most of the time I don’t even have music on. It’s just an excuse to not to talk to people on the off chance that I run into someone I know. I’m also always wearing sunglasses. Some people wear sunglasses so they can stare at people but I do the total opposite- it’s all about avoiding EVERYONE.

Anyway, I’m grumpy, bruised, and exceptionally unattractive on this morning. I was crossing Lowry Mall and there were people EVERYWHERE. I tend to walk to class either really early or really late so I walk around when the minimal amount of people are on the sidewalks. For whatever reason, on this day I missed it- the streets were fucking packed. So I’m walking across trying to maintain a safe distance from everyone, when all of the sudden, this freshman on a bike fucking PLOWS right into me.

(It was at this point in my blog that I searched “Bike Accident” on google images to place an image here. I do not ever suggest doing this. On a completely unrelated note, wear a helmet and/or a suit of medieval armor next time you decide to bike somewhere.)

You might ask, how did I know he was a freshman? Great question! Well first off, he had a brand new lanyard swinging around his sweaty, nervous neck. I can’t judge much on this because I used to wear one of those damn things, but now I just love to make fun of them. If you’re not coach of a major sports team or a tour guide at the zoo, you don’t need to wear a lanyard. Second, he was clutching, (I’m not even kidding on this), A MAP OF MIZZOU. Are you serious? I don’t care if you need it, hide that shit. You look like a fool. And third, he was dressed from head to toe in Mizzou gear. Like, we KNOW that you go here. The fact that you’re ON CAMPUS, LIVING IN A DORM, AND GOING TO CLASSES is really a big enough hint all on it’s own. You don’t need to appoint your body a throne to the school. We get it.

This is a picture of the guy.

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Okay, so when I say that he ran into me, I’m not saying he pumped into me and it was a little bit awkward but I kept walking. What I mean is that I went flying. Books flew everywhere, and paper rained down like I was in 10 things I hate about you and I was trying to spread the word on Bogey Lowenstein’s fake party. My phone skidded like ten feet away from me and I fucking. ate. shit. The kid’s bike flew to the side and he fell over like a little bitch, screaming the whole time. I hit the ground and I remembered thinking, did this just happen? Like, is this a joke? I think I actually just lay there for a minute, hoping that if I was still long enough my red hair would blend in with the brick and I could just stay there for ever. Like the freshman was a tyrannosaurs rex and if I was still enough, he wouldn’t see me… maybe I could get out of talking to him and just James Bond the fuck outta there.

So after a minute, I eventually start to get up. This poor dumbass kid is picking up all my books and papers and shit, and I realize he’s been spewing out apologies for the last like 30 seconds. Of course I’m not listening, because I’m too busy analyzing the few materials left in my hands, trying to figure out which one would be most useful in ENDING HIS FUCKING LIFE. So I take my shit back and shove it in my bag, looking at the kid for the first time while he continues to apologize profusely. Turns out, he’s sort of cute. Too bad he was a fucking moron.

But this is where he gets really, really stupid. I hold up a hand to stop his talking (I figured it was more appropriate than shoving my fist down his throat), and I tell him that it’s okay, I’m fine, and to just be more careful next time. He relaxes a bit. Then he looks me up and down, squints his eyes a bit, gets this stupid little grin on his dumb fucking face, and asks me “How you doin?”. Um, WHAT?

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I couldn’t even come up with a response because I was so surprised. Before I could come up with something snarky and impressively offensive to respond to the jackass, he extends his hand a bit and goes, “My name’s Ben”. That’s nice Ben, but I really don’t give a shit. You just nearly killed me with your bike, and you think THIS is an okay action to follow your attempted murder with?

Okay, maybe this works in romantic comedies. Obviously it’s chill when it’s like Jo bumping into Freidrich in Little Women, who then challenges her intellectually to be a better author and a more honest person and they fall in love and live in New York and everything rocks. I think they call it a “Meet Cute”. Yeah, turns out in real life it’s not very cute. It’s actually just obnoxious and potentially life threatening.  Jo’s meet cute just doesn’t apply here, not only because I’m WAY uglier than Winona Ruder, but because YOU, BEN, ARE A DUMBASS. I honestly wish I had just gone with it and hung out with him, so I could figure out his story and then RUIN his entire life. Instead, I just stared at him like this:

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Am I overreacting here? Okay, obviously he didn’t mean to hit me with his bike. And maybe he was just being friendly. But no, I’m not over reacting. I’m definitely right. I don’t know the typical protocol, because I don’t have shit for brains and have therefore never run into anyone on a bike, but I’m about 98% positive that hitting on them is not the proper response. I’m pretty sure all you can do is completely remove yourself from that person’s space/life, just to spare them any more time in your intolerable presence. There a few morals to this story. First, if you are a freshman- go home, and kill yourself. Second, if you ride a bike, ride it on the street to piss off those people instead, and kill yourself. And third, if you are Ben, kill yourself.

In conclusion: Dear Ben,
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