He had a cop mustache.

I'm sure strange things happen on a daily basis to plenty of people, but it just seems sometimes like the simplest things just put a spin on my day and won't get out of my mind. This just happened today. I ran into someone that I haven't talked to in at least 2-3 years. I have to admit, I've seen this person since then, but sometimes I can call upon my ninja talents and blend into the crowd with a puff of smoke, disappearing from view. Unfortunately there was no crowd today, so I was caught in the open and forced to access my conversation files and scan them for categories of chit chat that were polite yet gave the impression that I was pressed for time. Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy at heart, but also one of those people that can trap you forever once he gets going, much like some of my blog entries. I assume that just about anyone can relate to this type of situation, so take a moment to imagine a person in your life that fits this bill while I construct the setting.

I was in one my favorite haunts, the local coffee shop, listening to music and staring at my laptop as I tried to pry the current story idea from the murky haze in my brain and hoping that caffeine would be the catalyst I needed to make it happen. When I gave up and started packing everything into my man purse to retreat home, I heard someone say, "Erik?" from somewhere close behind me. I was caught. I won't go into the details of the entire conversation, because it was basically just small talk and catching up, but there was one thing at the beginning that just keeps rattling around in my memory, and I had to write it down. One of the first things he said to me as I was shutting down my laptop was, "I didn't know you could type."

For people that know me, this is obviously an absurd observation, as I practically live at my computer desk with (usually) no less than two, sometimes three computers running random processes simultaneously. That, and I'm currently an English grad student in creative writing. But to have someone, especially this day in age, be surprised that someone can type and feel they need to comment on it just spiked my strange-o-meter into the red zone.

I'm currently self-medicating with a cold beer and some metal music, and I think I'll pull through. Please, no donations or gifts.