The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

It turns out my backstory was not needed. J wisely advised me to, “shut-uppa-you-face-ah” (we were taking turns doing bad accents … well, I was giving him an accent to make his words seem less mean).

I thought about it and it seemed like good advice. Now when I meet strangers I just smile. I think people in this country may think I’m a little developmentally disabled, but for some people that’s almost synonymous with saying I live in Texas. Sorry, Texas, but it’s true.

Now when people talk to me I just smile and say, “you look like you could be a model!” It’s true, though. Everyone here looks like he/she could be a model. At first it was exciting because WOW. Then it was upsetting because I’ll never be so pretty or with someone so pretty. Now it’s just upsetting. Copenhagenites are real s.o.b’s.

Dang! Look at that girl’s cheek bones! They’re so sharp you could grate cheese on them.

I’m going to say hello to her, then, based on past experience, giggle and try to say exactly 73 words at once, telling her a pointless story about my family dog that I will realize is failing so I’ll end up telling ridiculous lies that have no place belonging in a story about the dog. But maybe she’ll be into that.

Wish me luck!

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