The guy who sits behind me at work must think I'm retarded. As disappointing as this is, I'd honestly be concerned if he didn't feel that way.

"Hey Bret, if I want to transfer someone, do I press the transfer button?"

"Hey Bret, what's the difference between mute and hold?"

"Hey Bret, if this person's account has already been canceled, can I cancel it again?"

[pointing at the phone and mouthing silently] "Hey Bret, this lady sounds like she wants to kill me. What should I do?!?"

I figure that with this record, I really have no pride to maintain. So, I brought my Happiness Book to work on. With all my down time, I was getting unhealthily good at Sudoku anyway.

"Hey Bret, do you like this page? It has lots of my favorite flowers on it."
angry calls and happiness books

Fact: I have never failed an internet stalking venture. Whether I am trying to find a website that "does not exist" or your dear friend Johny Johnson from Somewhere, Illinois who somehow does not have a Facebook account, I will emerge victorious.

I knew things (that quite frankly freaked me out) about all my roommates before I even spoke to them. Mind you, I didn't get any of this from Facebook:

•Roommate 1 was president of the LDS Eastern Home Educators Youth Conference Committee. She likes reading, singing, and graphic design, and she designed posters that hang in her local library.

•Roommate 2 was a recipient of the National Merit Scholarship in Texas. That means she's like a super genius. She's smarter than me and you.

•Roommate 3 organized a massive children's book drive in Salt Lake City. What a babe.

You can imagine how nervous all this made me. I even found pictures for two of these brilliant, stunning people. Then, just for kicks, I internet stalked myself. Biggest MLIA moment of my life. It took my saner roommates actually emailing me to come to the realization that these people are down to earth and we have a lot in common. Even if they are cooler than me. Which they are.

Moral of the story: Internet stalking is only so reliable. Also, Laura is a creeper. Roommates, when you actually meet me and stumble upon this post, I encourage you to comment about how creepy you find me. As if you haven't gathered that already. Love you all!
stalking is the sincerest form of flattery.

Old Lady gives Young Man her most prized possession.
Young Man falls in love with a dead lady who lived 70 years ago.
Young Man goes back in time by hypnotizing himself.
Man finds Lady, who refuses to speak to him.

1 Day Later

Man and Lady are completely in love and discussing marriage.

1 Minute Later

Man catches glimpse of a penny from the time period he's supposed to be living in.
Man goes back to the 80's, while Lady screams his name like she's in Psycho.
Man is sweat nasty, but instead of taking a shower and trying to re-hypnotize himself, he goes into shock and stops eating.

1 Week Later

Man does not miraculously recover.
Lady does not find way to come to the future to be with him.
Man does not regain sanity or really try to do anything to get back to his true love.
Man dies of starvation and a broken heart.
(Meanwhile, Lady has spent 73 years alone and depressed.)


This, my good people, is an American Classic: forty minutes of boring character introductions, twenty minutes of plot development, five minutes of romantical warm fuzzies, and then they die. If I was Man, or Lady for that matter, I would be highly upset at the tears of joy shed over my miserable life. But at least the story ends with a 30-second happily ever after-death scene.

And could someone please tell me where that pocket watch came from in the first place?
Somewhere In Time


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