How Crazy Are You?

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Everyone has experienced a strange event after which they say to themselves, “Did that really happen?  That was some crazy shit, yo!”  However, most of these events are isolated and not a steady stream of bizarre misadventures.  It’s highly probable that some people invite crazy into their lives merely by being crazy themselves.  For example, I cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed two hobos fighting over which one was crazier or a bigger drunk/derelict or inferior speller (“Homeless ain’t spelled h-o-m-l-i-s-s you dumb mutherfucker!”)  There are plenty of non-hobos who are also nuts.   I happen to have a few in my family.  And at my workplace.  I was recently reflecting on whether or not I myself am crazy or just weird.  Weird is acceptable, right?  Because weird means different, quirky, original, unpredictable.  Weird is cute and huggable.  Crazy means people just put up with you and that you are borderline friendless and kept around for the wild stories they can retell to their other friends.   Unless you have been smart enough to weed out all of your crazy friends, you have at least one that appears to invite and embrace calamity, drama, bad romantic relationships, plagues and potential ruin every day. Or perhaps you are the crazy one…

I decided to review my own wild stories in an effort to determine whether I stay safely in weird or have officially crossed over to crazyland.  After careful consideration, I have concluded that my life is neither crazy or weird.  It’s boring.  A snooze.  Rather sad, actually.  There has, however, been a sprinkling of crazy, so I will share with you a few highlights:

  • Dead fluffy white cat on sidewalk.  Crowd of neighbors circled around it.  My friend Adam and I pass by and make heartfelt sad comments.  One of the aforementioned neighbors runs after us and screams, “How dare you say that!  You deserve to die for that!”  We calmly explain that whatever he thought we said, he misheard us.  He calmly walks into his apartment and returns with a long wooden plank with several nails and spikes sticking out of one end.  We call the police and they not so calmly arrest him.
  • 4am.  Boyfriend working out of town.  Man in courtyard of my apartment building yelling “They are trying to kill me!” over and over at the top of his lungs.  There is pounding and glass breaking.  All front doors in the complex are glass-paned French doors.  I jump out of bed and run to my door.  Man is now at my doorstep and begins pounding fists on the glass and just before I decide whether or not he is really in danger and whether or not I should open my door, a bright light from a police helicopter spotlight hits him and I can now see that his pupils are huge, he is not wearing a shirt, and both arms from his elbows to his fingertips are covered in blood.  Man runs to the street as police cars pull up.  Neighbors and I spend two hours cleaning blood off our front steps.
  • Car breaks down in the middle of nowhere during freezing rainstorm.  This occurs in the Land Before Cellphones.  No choice but to hitch a ride.  Guy who stops turns out to be novice serial killer.  Lucky for me, I am his first victim and his inexperience leads to my escape.  How, you ask, did I get away?  By acting crazier than him.

What about you?  Are you boring, weird or crazy?

P.S. All of the above stories took place in California, which leads me to the conclusion that NYC is a way safer place to live.

November Sunset

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You don’t have to be vacationing on a tropical island to thoroughly enjoy a sunset.  Today’s sunset was extraordinary and as soon as I walked through my front door I couldn’t wait to drop my bag down, scratch my dog on the head, grab my camera and run up to the roof to snap some pics.  Me: cloud lover.  Turns out some of my neighbors had the same idea so we enjoyed the unusually warm Fall breeze while oohing and aahing to one another about the different cloud shapes and changing sky color.  See, outsiders think of NYers as cranky and always in a rush but give us a spectacular sunset and we drop everything to enjoy it…together.  What a great way to begin the weekend. Now all I need to do is make a dirty martini and I’m set.

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