I Know, I Know. I Have No Life.....

I know I already blogged today. I don't care what you people think. No, I am not addicted. Yes, I could live my life without this blog. No, I don't think it is becoming a problem. God, would these imaginary people telling me these horrible things just please get off my fucking back. No, in truth, I am blogging again merely as a reminder to myself to begin a small series of blogs. They won't be so much blogs as short stories of the imaginary life I have decided to create for a very real, live in the flesh human being....not to mention he is quite the dancer.

You see, dear readers, tonight the gang went to Panic at The Roxy, a indie-ish club. Not too much to say about the club, although we did get trampled by this huge group of guys that were drunk as all hell and could not dance in one place. Regardless, that has nought to do with the introduction to the aforementioned dancer. His name I do not know, but as I do with so many, he has become branded with a nickname. In this case, "Akward Hat Boy."

Now, I know most of you are thinking that I have finally just run out of things and just need a reason to kill time on the internet, but I am not going to lie, I have developed quite the fascination with AHB. He moves about the dancefloor with a grace and dignity rivalling that of the fabulously deceased Princess Di. He lurks, waiting for the one girl that might give him more than a dirty look. Patiently he waits, passing the time by adjusting his gray baseball cap from some company picnic and airing out his gray muscle shirt, soaked with sweat due to the protrusion of back hair gently seeping out his neckline and sleeves. His family? Not proud of him. His peers? Don't even know he exists. He is merely a myth, a rumor, a phantasm, a figment of everyone's imagination until one day, akwardly, he creeps on to a dancefloor near you....