I think I'm going to give up now. On being the queen of smooth, poise, etc. It's not that I ever was; perhaps I harbored the idea that going to college would enact an immediate change in my personality.

Hah (or as one of my suitemates likes to write, ‘hahahahahaha’). I have stuck my foot in my mouth more times than I care to think about in the last few days. And believe me, with Houston weather, my shoes are nasty.

The story: Until this past week, only one, maybe two people who know me have read this blog. I'm still mostly anonymous to most of my readers (although I might get to meet Raewyn soon...). One of my suitemates started reading last week. She laughs a lot when reading. (Let this serve as a hint I'm glad I'm worth at least a good laugh.

You know that last entry about the unexpected teammate? Well, while we were talking a few days ago, I foolishly mentioned I had a blog, and even more foolishly forgot the URL was on my facebook page.

An except of 'Aaron's' comment: "Charafictiphobia- The fear of becoming the inspiration for a fictional character created by a writer."

Yeah. The flavor of the day is Brooks GTS Adrenaline, model 7, color blue, size 8.5. The dirt from this morning's run is particularly crunchy. And I detect more vegetable nutrients in the grass shards from the soccer fields than I usually eat in a week. So those fire alarms you heard this morning? That was the heat rising from my ever-reddening face. (Such a character marker! Except I don't remember having quite this reaction before. Maybe being a secluded homeschooler wasn’t so bad after all. JK.)

The last two days had been good, maybe not what I'd call 'average' days, but nothing particularly bizarre/irritating/embarrassing (*clears throat, addressing ‘Aaron’* And meeting you again falls into the category of straight unbelievable). I thought the bulk of the weirdness/jaw-drop factors had passed. And therein lies my fatal mistake: I let myself get lulled into boredom. Now I shake my head at my naivety. I should have known.

A friend gave me this piece of advice before I started school: Don't get cocky.

I don't think I ever was cocky, but I am now definitely humbled. There is no possibility of me pulling any high-hat look-down-the-nose stunts now (I certainly hope and don't think I would have done that a couple weeks ago, but still). All I can do is laugh at myself now. I am past hope of being idolized as the flawless queen of cool.

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I sigh, shaking my head dolefully at the computer screen. I hoped it would not come to this. But it is time. I crack my knuckles (not really) and pull up Internet Explorer. Soon enough I am slipping through the dark corners of the Web, searching for the software I need most urgently. I pass over several items as inferior. It is time for a new level of subterfuge, deeper cover of my identity. "Ah, yes," I murmur. I find my prey, a cute little program disguised as a package of Twinkies on eBay.

I know what lurks behind the innocent picture of cake tubes stuffed with white goop. Anyone who gave it a few moments thought would know as well. Twinkies have undergone the most rigorous scientific testing (i.e. being baked for hours, being dropped off a building, being submerged in water for 24 hours, etc) without suffering severe structural damage. They're nearly indestructible (not to mention indigestible). No one in their right mind would buy these from a grocery store (goes to show we have some serious problems in America), much less from eBay for twice the going rate.

I place my order, rubbing my hands together (yeah, so you all know I'm not doing that either. Just play along?). Once I hack into 'Aaron Nessick's' facebook account (shh!) and get his IP address, I will program it into this software. The instant he tries accessing my blog, the software will send the electronic equivalent of a Twinkie to his computer.

A sappy Hallmark e-card embedded with a virus.

Think about it! It looks okay from the outside, rather common, but sweet. Once it's opened - destruction! (Alright, I admit, you won't die from biting into a Twinkie. I think).

So, Aaron, you've been warned. Beware Hallmark cards.

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The rest of the day has been painfully placid. Before I would yawn. Now I am wary, checking my surroundings, waiting for the next embarrassing incident surely lurking in the shadows.

I wonder what Crocs taste like.