I'm not lying

Hello. The Redhead here, as expected. So nice to meet you. Let’s be friends. What’s that you say? “But Little Miss (Mrs.) Redhead, I barely know you. How can we be friends?” To this I say, check out my About Me and The What and Why pages for the basics. In addition to this, I plan on devoting my first few posts to one subject: me. So I’ll talk about myself, then you can leave comments and talk about yourself. It will be like a real conversation. See, it will all work out. We can totally be friends.

Hmm, what to discuss first? I think I’ll start off by saying that I’m weird, and weird things happen to me all the time. Weird people, weird events, weird outcomes. It makes for a lot of laughs though. I’ve come to expect the unexpected, which really annoys the Husband because he generally assumes that this will lead to that, and then this will happen. He’s a very realistic guy, in most cases (did I just say that?). In my world, I always look for what could happen, even if it is so outlandish it probably never will happen. But what if? I find myself saying this all the time. And you know what . . . sometimes I’m right. Because like I said, I know I’m weird and weird things happen to me. I’ll give you a few of these odd, uncanny examples just to spice up your day.

When I was in college I seemed to attract the crazies. I know what you’re thinking. Birds of a feather flock together. I totally agree, but is it too much to ask that one of those crazies to be handsome and funny? Apparently it’s not too much to ask because yes, the Husband was one of those crazies. And I say that in the most endearing way. All the crazies pre-Husband though were not my cup of tea. One in particular, for lack of a better word, was “obsessed” with me. I don’t know why. He came over to my apartment all the time since he lived down the street. My roommates thought it was funny. I didn’t. He asked me out on dates all the time. I refused every time. Except, bless MY heart, I felt bad for him. So against my better judgment, I went out to dinner with him one time, only to find out during the ever so romantic dinner of ribs and coleslaw that it was his birthday. He took me out to dinner on his birthday. Who does that?! Well I thought perhaps I should pick up the tab because it was his date of birth. No, he insisted this was the best birthday present ever, just being on a date with me. Oh bless HIS heart. I totally avoided him after that night. Totally. But he kept coming round. And I kept having to find ways to avoid him. My roommates said I should just try to look totally unattractive when he came over (because he did keep coming over). Hence this picture has been unearthed for you to see. I think I was going for the electrocuted look.
It didn’t work. He just thought I was being playful. Then one evening, back in the day of land line telephones, I picked up the phone only to hear him talking to my roommate on the other end, saying how he wanted to marry me and have me bear his children. See folks. Weird.

Oh how I hope you are not reading this Stalker Boy. If you are, I’m sorry. But it was weird. You were weird. I barely knew ye. Why would I agree to birth children for you when I didn’t even know your social security number? I hope you have since found and gotten to know someone else who could do this for you.

I have a couple more kooky things I’m willing to share with you readers, but this post is long enough. So come back tomorrow for the next installment.


Clare said...

I wish I were a good or clever enough writer that people had a reason to read my blog besides to see my cute kids. I'm excited to see what this will bring for you. Good luck!

Rachel said...

You are so entertaining. Thanks for the invite and I look forward to more weird posts! :)

The redhead said...

Thanks ladies!

Rainee said...

That's so funny! You're right, it's so weird!

The Atomic Mom said...

I swa this post on your link within and the picutre. How could I not come and find out what the picture was about? Anyway, I'm your long lost nerd-magnet twin. Seriously....

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