One thing about being a magnet of crazy people is that they give me something to blog about.
Alright, as in my earlier post about the demon child at the mall, I must reiterate that if psychopaths were flies, then I’m the brightest lantern in the fuckin’ world.
So, I finally manage to get out to lunch with my sister and a few of my coworkers from my new job. We meet up at a bar, and as soon as I enter, the craziest dude offers to buy me a drink. After several attempts of shoving the money back in his face, I finally succumb. He said something along the lines of “Let me buy you a drink; I don’t do this often. I just need a place to sit.” It didn’t completely register in my mind to what he was talking about until he planted his insane ass at the same table as us. His monotonous voice first led me to believe it was just a simple speech impediment, but now it is apparent what it’s from (copious amounts of drugs).
Anyway, the events that followed are almost too strange to put into words. Basically, this guy must’ve been on depressants or some eccentric shit because he was absolutely bat-shit crazy.
Through his psychopathic rantings, I learned this much about the dude:
· He believes he is proclaimed as the world’s biggest douche bag.
· He hates himself and wishes he would die.
· He believes/doesn’t believe in Jesus (it’s hazy)?
· He wanted to be a poet, but his father through away his material whilst calling him a fag.
· He plays the guitar in a band, I guess?
· He’s had several jobs; several of which he’s been fired from due to his alcoholism.
· He’s been to jail several times for drunk driving.
· He’s going back to jail.
· He’s going to visit his friend who just had a baby, and they are going to get “shit-faced, do tons of drugs, and eat chicken wings”
· He hates “spics” claiming that they beat the shit out of him in jail and broke his glasses.
· He claims to know fluent Spanish, but would only tell me the Spanish term for “faggot.”
· His favorite third-world leader is “Fu Man Chi.”
· He thought Gaddafi was a great leader.
· And his life’s calling his to be a “human servicer”/guitar poet.
I mean, at least this guy knew what he liked and didn’t like. Anyway, before he could be ushered out of the bar by the waitress who finally noticed our desperation, he managed to feel me up several times, steal my tie, and try to give me free money by attempting to stuff it in my shirt pocket. The dude even came equipped with a Charles Manson scar. I mean, I usually know how to conduct myself around crazies, but this guy made me look like a rookie in the field of ‘pwning’ psychopaths.
So, does anyone know where I can get some crazy people repellant because I really, really need that shit, badly.
If you read my blog, expect to hear several more of these stories because they are bound to happen.
It's because she's a retard.