Last night, some kindhearted human being graced their presence on my blog and took home the title of being my 1,000th blog view. If it twas you, please come forward and allow me to make one gesture: I would be honored to shake thy hand of thy person who hath viewed my blog as thy 1,000th viewer. I don’t care where you are (please be local), who you are (please be someone I know), or what you’re doing (please don’t be shooting heroin), I want to do it…No, not that “do it”. I want to shake your hand. Unless you’re a hot girl. Then all bets are off, and I may want to “do it”.
In all seriousness, I want to thank everyone who has viewed my blog. Whether you’re a constant reader, or someone who just happens to see it on Facebook/Twitter and you’re bored at that moment; I don’t really care. This may not seem like a huge milestone to some of you, but to someone who started this blog on a whim I’m actually rather ecstatic about this. I’m going to start a new tradition: whenever I reach a milestone in multiples of 500 (1,500th, 2,000th, etc.) I’m going to share an embarrassing story of mine. Unless my blog suddenly blows up, and my 1,500th view is next week, this could be a highly anticipated tradition. (PS – I had the intentions of doing this last night, because I was at 991 before my last blog post. I thought to myself, “I’ll definitely get 9 views…” To make a long story short – I didn’t. That’s embarrassing, right?)
The Time I Forgot My Birthday (As a Freshman in College)
There I was: an 18 year-young Freshman, so cute and innocent, attending one of those stupid Freshman orientation activities the University puts on for all incoming Freshman. On the way to the Student Center, dreading every step I took in my Sperry Topsiders (give me a break; it was a rookie mistake AND I went to school in the South), I thought to myself, “UGH…I’m too cool for these types of things”, but on I tread.
As I got out on to the basketball courts where all of the other Freshmen were, I immediately looked for people who were in my orientation group. Upon finding them, we formed the “clique circle”. You know, the ones you often see in the halls of high schools or at high school football games. And, what did we do in these groups you ask? Complained. Yes, just like high schooler’s (you can’t put on the costume and not play the part).
After a solid 5-minutes of complaining, some guy got on the speaker system and directed everyone to get into groups according to the month they were born in. Instant chaos erupted. Everyone was asking the closest person to them their birthday months, hoping a stranger would become an instant ally. As the little circles began to grow and grow my level of panic began to raise (and I think this is what effected my thinking). For some odd reason I was suddenly born in the month of June, instead of May. I saw my orientation leader holding up five fingers, and as would any reasonable individual I assumed he was signifying month five – May. Well, he wasn’t. I run over to him, give him a high-five out of excitement, and joined the circle. This is where it went wrong.
Once everything settled down and we were all in our birthday group (except for me, unknowingly), the speaker system guy gets back on and yells, “this is what’s going to happen: I’m going to say a month, in no particular order, and when I say it I want that group to stand up and yell as loud as they can!” (Side note: I don’t see how these orientation leaders have the personality to be so upbeat about something you would see in elementary school.) There I was, sitting down thinking about exactly what I just explained in my side note. “November!” “AHHHHH!” yelled the November group. “February!” “AHHHHH!!!” yelled the February group. “June!” This was it. Here comes the embarrassing part. As I’m sitting there waiting for him to yell May, everyone in my group stands up and yells, “AHHHHH!!!!!!!!” I shit you not, I was so caught off guard I jumped.
Due to the fact I was waiting for May to be called, I was looking down at the floor not even paying attention. When everyone sat back down the girl next to me looks at me and asks, “why didn’t you get up?” Instant hot face. Did I dare tell her that I don’t know what month I was born in? I mean, obviously I do, but in that exact moment it looked like I didn’t. So what did I tell her? I said, “Look, honey. When you’re as mature as I am, you don’t take part in these little kiddie activities” and walked out of the gym. (Just kidding. I told her I wasn’t paying attention, and buried my face in my hands.)
Hope you enjoyed, and I hope you’re looking forward to my next milestone as much as I am. Thanks again!