Hey, so, I’m blogging now. Pretty cool, huh. This blog is gonna have lots of writing in it and maybe even pictures, just wait and you’ll see. It’s gonna be something special, I promise.

There are those who might see this blog merely as internet pollution junking up cyberspace – just another tributary of mindless drivel flowing into a larger stream of invective that meets with an even larger river of dreams that snakes its way through the valley of the dolls and eventually becomes an estuary of self-indulgence where it mixes with the salty, swirling waters of an ocean of virtual narcissism and verbal masturbation. To those people I say, “You have a very good understanding of river systems.”

Check this page often, for I will be updating it often. But who am I to be telling you when to read? I’ve never liked it when other people have ordered me to look at words. My teachers did that all the time. They would be like, “Read chapters 4-7 for tomorrow.” And I’d be like, “No! I will read those chapters when I get around to it.” Getting around to it meant waiting until I had to go to the bathroom, or until I had a long train ride. Last week, I finally finished "Animal Farm" on my way down to Philadelphia.

Ostensibly, this blog was created to chronicle my madcap sexcapades and salacious Scandanavian adventures while studying abroad in Denmark. But really, I just like using the word “ostensibly,” and this blog allows me to use that word with the reckless abandon of an abandoned daredevil. Ostensibly.

I leave tomorrow, so nothing Denmark-y has happened to me yet. But I’ll leave you with a story from today. It takes place in a little town with a big heart and an Indian name, Mamaroneck…

I was eating a sandwich in my car when I noticed a little girl licking a glass door. She was standing just inside a shoe store, her face pressed up against the glass, licking the door and seeming quite pleased with herself – completely ignorant of the nasty germs she was no doubt ingesting with every lick. Her mother was too busy shopping to take note of her daughter’s door-licking, so I thought it my duty as a concerned onlooker to intervene and save this child from any possible harm that might result from a microbial infection. But just as I was about to get out of my car and yell, “Stop licking that door!” I remembered that a little girl's mouth is cleaner than a human's. How silly of me...

Epilogue: That sandwich was Boar’s Head cracked peppermill turkey with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and provolone on a roll, and that little girl… that little girl was me.