Generally Discontent

Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and witness the horror, the wonder of Maryland's authentic and unique Crazy People! See the seat-stealing Karaoke Cowboy sing his siren song and shoot his plastic guns! Fear the mundane conversation of Creepy Neighbor Guy...can you escape before he talks you to death? Feel the nauseating rubbing of Batshit Insane Poolhall Woman as she hunts for a mate or something! Don't worry folks; they don't bite. Or do they..??

Translation: I've seen some really bizarre people here in Maryland, so bizarre that they warrant their own little entry.

First up, we have Creepy Neighbor Guy. He lives a few doors down from Vani and Jay, and Vani had warned me about him before I had the displeasure of actually meeting him. One morning, I'm out having a smoke alone, and this guy approaches me asking the dude (me) if he has an extra smoke. I say sure, why not, here you go, no need to give me what looks to be the forty-five cents in your hand there, it's just a cigarette for chrissake. So there you go, here's a light, have a nice d-

He starts talking, making small talk that I don't really want to make, as his shaky demeanor and strangely sunken and pitted face already has me on edge. But so it goes, and he's one of those people who feels the need to blurt out his whole damn life story to any person, animal or object he comes in contact with. I discover that Creepy Guy used to live in Florida, then up to New Hampshire to live with some girl, then she dumps him and he's laid off, his old boss in jail for tax evasion or some shit, now back home with the 'rents and man, this is the worst his life's ever been! And oh yeah, he likes hockey. And oh yeah, he'd locked himself out of his house. Wonderful, just wonderful.

I managed to use my burned-down cigarette as an excuse to escape this wretched husk of a man, but not before the most minute part of my soul died a sobbing, screaming death. But that wasn't the end so much, as the guy is constantly going in and out of his car, constantly pulling out of his parking spot and roaring down the street as unsafe speed, constantly just...being...creepy.

Next on the list is Batshit Insane Poolhall Woman, or BIPW for short. It was Friday at the bar/poolhall, the beer was flowing and the balls were, uh, rolling and clacking and whatnot. We noticed BIPW pretty quickly, as she was hanging with the somewhat trashy folks on the table next to ours. Late 30s / early 40s, thin as a damn handrail and used just as much as one, bleach blonde tangly hair and a face the Mummy would be envious of. She was dancing. Dancing a lot, and clearly her intention was to make every male within reach her stripper's pole, as she moved from one to the next, rubbing her ass all over them.

She was clearly drunk and most likely high on something, or really just insane. At first I thought some of Vani and Jay's friends knew her, as she was butt-rubbing against them, but they said they'd never met her. I sort of feared for their lives, but in the end no one seemed to get hurt, though I hope they burned their clothes when they got home that night.

BIPW was last seen up on the stage with the DJ and a couple of other dancers, shaking her itchy ass at the crowd and generally acting like a maniac. She will be missed.

Our last crazy person is the Karaoke Cowboy, one of the people at the Halloween party last Friday. He was a tall guy dressed as a Cowboy, with a bright blue shirt and bright orange guns. And fairly indistinguishable from the various furniture and Halloween decorations littering the townhouse were in. Until the seat-stealing began.

Jay, Vani and I were hanging out then decided to go grab some more beer and a smoke. Vani gets up from her chair and heads for the stairs, and about two seconds later, Karaoke Cowboy leaps forth from the corner he had been sitting and plants his ass on her chair. Perhaps that's not so weird, but you didn't see the determined purposefulness he exuded as he lurched at that chair, as if he desperately desired to soak in whatever aura Vani's ass had left on it. So, yeah, that was a bit odd.

Then we're out front, having a smoke with the host of the party, John. But here comes Karaoke Cowboy, melting out of the shadows (Had he been there the whole time? I thought he was downstairs in Vani's seat?). He's there, not smoking, obviously John's friend or brother or something, but he's not part of the conversation. In fact he- wait, what? His orange plastic toy guns are out suddenly, his legs bend, and BANG BANG BANG (or, well, CLICK CLICK CLICK) go the guns as he ruthlessly murders a tree just for snoring too loud or something. And then he went and did the seat-stealing thing about ten minutes later when Vani got up from a different chair.

And to add to his weirdness, he decides to coerce the DJ into helping him do karaoke, though nobody else at the party seemed interested in doing that. It was "Sweet Home Alabama", a remake by someone who might be Jewel, and it was both awesome and horrific at the same time. He did a little line-stepping dance, got out his guns CLICK CLICK CLICK and belted out the words in the most dull monotone you're ever likely to hear. All we could do was sit and stare, making no sudden movements for fear that this obviously recently-escaped mental patient might attack us. Then he was done and ceased his Vani-stalking, possibly out of embarrassment, but most likely because the voices of his victims had been satiated by his angelic singing. In any case, I'm sorta glad we cut out of there early.

So there you go, three very different and very crazy people that I have witnessed here in Maryland. I report this so that you, Joe America, don't have to come in contact with the strangeness and terror that I have. You better feel damned lucky!