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Taking a Hard Left into Wackytown

To most, I appear to be a nice, normal, almost 30-year-old with a pretty regular life.  I go to work, I hang out with my friends, and occasionally I manage to stay out past 10:00pm.  However, every so often my boring life is interrupted by a random occurence.  Friends have noted the frequency of such situations and suggested I write them down.  Actually, they suggested I write a book; unfortunately that requires way more time, committment, and attention then I'm willing to devote to something besides watching Food Network.  So, what's the next best thing?  Facebook!  Been there, done that, and some situations require waaaay more than the word limit on a status.  That's what's led me here to the world o' the blog.

To start this little social media experiment off, let's go with a classic.  I was preparing to move from Columbia, MO to Springfield, MO for work.  Thanks to some sort of black hole in my karma, I was shocked to discover that the nice, flat walkway I normally use to get to the parking lot had been torn out and that I would have to use the back stairs to move my stuff.  The night before the big move I found myself with an old computer desk that needed to be taken to the dumpster.  And when I say "taken to the dumpster", I mean "quietly snuck down to the dumpster in the dark because we weren't allowed to leave furniture by the dumpster."  Said desk and I started our sojourn down the stairs, and I noticed a young lady in the breezeway watching me.  Not offering to help, just watching.  Undaunted, I continued to carry/drag/throw/drop the desk down the stairs and -- with only three wheels lost or broken -- we reached our final destination.  Upon returning to my apartment, I noticed that the young lady was still there.  What was she doing, you might ask?  Well, see for yourself:

Apparently it was "Turn Your Breezeway into a Gym!" night in CoMo.  She was actually doing lunges, squats, and various other body-toning exercises.  I guess her living room wasn't gym-like enough for her.  (Note:  This photo had to be taken through the peephole.  I couldn't figure out a valid excuse for being out there with my camera besides "Hi, I think you're nuts and I want to prove it to the world.")

So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

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