Razor Girl

I know I am supposed to be on the road to Biola right now, but this just couldn't wait. Well, and I needed to get directions - I have this weird thing about having to get directions even if I know where I'm going, it makes me feel safer, but that's beside the point. Today as I walked out of my American Government class (No sight of pink jumpsuits today, but she still wore Crocs. I swear, she one in every color. It's nauseating.) I got hit in the face with something. I look up to see what hit me (Note: She didn't hit me hard, but my face did run into it.) and it was a Razor. Yes, a Razor scooter. You know, the one you asked for for Christmas when you were 10. Yeah, that Razor. It was folded in half and thrown into an ugly backpack. Who does that? And at school? College nonetheless. The part that really got me - besides the ugly backpack and high(ish) pants (high in a 1990s Mom jeans kind of way, not a cute high pants kind of way) - was the fact that she walked so fast. Sorry, Razor girl, you have a Razor in your backpack. You remember putting it there, right? Why are you walking so fast, can't you just get your Razor out and ride it? People kill me. They're so funny.

I had to take a stalker picture, I'm sorry. But c'mon, that's just silly.