"I'm going to get shot!"

So, my wonderful friend Holli, is the funniest person. During the summer she and I spent a day in Salt Lake just for fun. We were making our way back from the Gateway to Temple Square and we passed two people. Now, I say two people because neither she nor I could figure out which gender they were from their dress and appearance. Scary, I know. Anyway, after we were out of earshot, Holli said something about crazy style. She then paused before scolding herself that she shouldn't say things about other people. She said, "If I keep doing it, one of these days I'm going to get shot!" I, of course, just laughed and told her not to worry. Over the course of the summer, she said the same thing on a couple of different occasions.
Well, the other day, I was sitting in my Criminal Justice class, listening to my professor lecture. He was telling a story about when he lived in Maryland, and his wife, who was expecting, asked him to go down the street to the pharmacy and get her something. Well, as he was telling the story he said that as he walked down the street, late at night, he started to get nervous. And you'll never guess what he said next! "I thought I was going to get shot!" And instantly I could hear Holli saying the exact same thing and I started to laugh in the middle of class. Hence everyone gave me really weird look, since it wasn't a particularly funny story. So I just told them not to mind me. It was pretty embarrassing, but I lived.

On the Job

So, my job isn't one that you would consider most girls having. About 98% of the workers are guys and then there are a couple of us girls. Drafters are guys and that's pretty much what people expect. But I'm good at it so they keep me around. Anyway, the other day I was down on the floor. (Where all the cabinets and fixtures get build and so forth. I work in the office upstairs normally.) I've worked at the mill for about a year and a half now, so it's not like I'm a new face.
Anyway, to get to the story, I was walking around, searching for a fixture which seemed to be eluding our shipping department, and I ran into one of the shipping workers. He's worked there for countless years and has seen me plenty of times. Well, this particularly day he decided to stop and talk to me. He wanted to know what my name was because he couldn't remember. Then he was like, "So are you married? Boyfriend?" And of course, I say no. Well, for some odd reason he doesn't believe me and wants to see my left hand. At which point I pull my hand out of my pocket. (I walk around with one hand in my pants pocket, odd habit I know.) Then he starts going on about how I walk around with my hand in my pocket to tease guys and mislead them. I was like whatever and was going to go on my merry way to find my cabinet. Well, he starts following me around and asking me all sorts of questions. Ones I wouldn't particularly like to answer when it comes to someone like him. Big, forty year old, Mexican guy, that drinks and swears too much, kind of guy. I got nothing against him, but I didn't really have any desire to become buddy chums with him. Well, when I told him I had to go, he stops me and was like, "Well, maybe we could go out sometime. Talk and stuff outside of work." RIGHT!!! No thank you, if you don't mind.
So, I can't get hit on by nice, cute guys, but old, creepy ones? That's so not cool. Sheesh, it would be nice, just once and a while to meet a nice guy that actually turns out to be a nice guy instead of one that puts on an act for a little while before showing his true colors. Maybe it's just me, but it certainly isn't any fun.

Testing it Out

So, for the longest time I wondered what the big deal was with blogs. I didn't really see what was with all the hype. But now, I have say that I'm converted, so I'm going to give it a shot. I can't say my life is very interesting, so we'll have to see if I even have anything to write about.