Apparently the most difficult part of blogging is coming up with title

I was having a conversation with a friend about blogs and she told me that the only blogs she ever reads are the cute married/mommy blogs or train wreck blogs--you know the ones where they're sharing so much embarrassing personal information that it makes you cringe, but you just can't look away. I'm hoping that my blog will help her diversify her reading materials because I'm neither married nor pregnant and I'm not going to be sharing my deepest, darkest secrets (they're not that exciting anyway.) You'll just have to settle for things I've done or learned and the occasional funny story.

So apparently I'm a shoe thief. The other day I put on a pair of my black flats and one of them felt really stretched out compared to the other. I was pretty impressed that I stretched out only one of my shoes, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it, so I eventually forgot about it. A couple days later I was cleaning my room/organizing my shoes when I picked up the same black flats--this was confusing because I thought I had just put that pair very nicely in the back corner of my closet. I'd thought right. Turns out I have two pairs of the same exact shoes, plus or minus a half size. To assuage the guilt that I somehow stole someone's really cute shoes I've started telling myself that my closet just must be shoe baby-making central.

Also, am I back in high school? A couple days ago I was driving home from Salt Lake when a car pulled up beside me and stayed there for the entire on-ramp. I may have a mild (ok severe) case of road rage, and this just bothers me, if you're going to pass, man up and do it. The two lanes eventually merged so I had to pull in front of him. He continues to follow me as I change lanes and it was pretty obvious that he'd never mastered the two-second rule in driver's ed. At this point I'm ticked, I hate when people ride my ass, especially when I'm in the fast lane going 80 and I couldn't merge right if I wanted to. After a couple minutes of this he gets into the HOV lanes and pulls up right beside me and stays there. My road rage almost rears it's ugly head when I turn to ask him what the hell is wrong with him. Luckily I only got the "what" out because he proceeded to tell me that I was hot and that he wanted my number. I did my best to mouth thanks but sorry, I can't handle your driving even when I'm paying attention to the road, I am not going to try to multi-task. (Don't worry, I mouthed it more nicely than that) The whole thing reminded me of going down the St. George with Steph and Lauren and cruising around specifically just to get people's number. I would always freeze and stare straight ahead when we pulled next a car full of hot boys. Lauren and Steph on the other hand had it down to an art. Apparently I'm not any better at it now than I was then. After this he did start driving like a sane person, with appropriate spaces in between cars and everything. I almost feel guilty for not giving him my number so I could say sorry I have a boyfriend and I'm moving across the country in less than a month but thanks for the ego-boost. Oh and don't worry folks, I was pretty immediately knocked back down to size. That same day I was wandering in Target waiting for my prescriptions to be filled when a man walks up to me and asks me if I know where the nursing bras are. Um...what the? Now instead of feeling super hot I'm left wondering what about me would make a complete stranger think I know that answer to that.