Monday, June 13, 2011

I Believe You Can Make Me Whole!

Today, a crazy person was coming into the library. I was leaving. Granted, I was in a bad mood today. But when he stopped his singing and chatting to himself to say “Hi, how are you!” to me in a weird, leering way, I did not say hi back. I smiled, vaguely, and continued walking. As you do when you are walking alone and a crazy person talks to you.

“Great, thanks for asking! Bitch,” he called after me.

This is ok? I know, this is a crazy person, as evidenced by the out-loud conversation with himself he was having, and the singing, and whatnot. But when someone doesn’t stop and interact with your insanity, you call them a bitch? Out loud? In front of children at the public library?

I just added this to the list. See, I am a crazy magnet. Examples:

1.       A man, dressed in a very nice suit, stopped me on my way to my car once. “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m wondering if you could help me,” he asked. I saw no harm, so stopped. He then pulled a riding crop out of his suit pants, slapped his hand with it, and said, “Have you been a bad girl? Do you need to be punished?”

2.       A man, dressed (in the summer)in many layers of colorful clothing, with deer antlers tied to his head with a length of rawhide, followed me around downtown Schenectady while I was doing work errands on foot and therefore unable to escape, singing “Your BODY! Is a WONDERLAND!” over and over. For half an hour.

3.       I cannot go anywhere on foot without someone asking me for money, a cigarette, a bottle of water, milk (this happened less than a month ago – it was a woman, not asking for money, but for milk – “Ma’am, I’m thirsty, do you have any milk, by any chance?” We were nowhere near the grocery store, and nothing about me indicated that I might have milk), etc. My friends know that if they go somewhere with me, people will start following me around like Jesus in that scary scene in Jesus Christ Superstar with the lepers begging to be healed.

4.       When I was in college, I had no car, and bussed it around. Crazies would move their seats to sit next to me, then either stare silently or tell me their life stories the entire way to school.

I feel it important to say that I am just average-looking, have constant bitchface, and nothing about me indicates I might be a soft-sell.

So thank you, so, so much, douchenozzle at the library, for your kind words. Honestly? I didn’t care how you were. Because I knew how you were. You were insane, that’s how you were. So move on, please. There's a guy with deer horns in Schenectady; he might be interested in a duet.

1 comment:

  1. First off... this whole post had be rolling with laughter- sadly at your expense. I think you're right for not giving a crap about Mr. Crazy... he knows he's a freak and he does it to get rises out of people. I mean hey if you're gonna play the crazy card might as well go all out and throw all your standards out the window. F*ck it. Let's make everyone feel awkward so YOU feel better about your crappy situation, sir.

    I don't know what to say about your insane static cling- but just know that you're probably attracting them because of your bitch face... weird I know but my cousin has just about the same problem and she has a bitch face too- she REALLY attracts the schizophrenics- so much that she became a psychologist. I wonder if there's a study on this?


Thank you for commenting! I love your comments and I love YOU. No, not you. Yes, YOU. But listen up, chumley. If you make a dumbass comment, I am not posting it. I allow pretty much everything, so if your comment does not show up? Assume it was too stupid for me to even contemplate posting. Assume it was SO STUPID that even READING it would, by extension, make the IQ level of my amazing and brilliant readers drop by 30 points and deprive them of their Mensa status. And we just cannot have that, can we. SO STOP, THINK, AND DO NOT BE A DOUCHECANOE.