crazies Archives - Memos and Mirth

Wilting Madonna’s specialness

April 27, 2010

I am so glad that one of my coworkers is at Dunn Brothers tonight. Now I am not the only witness to the batshit-crazy going on the corner.

There is a bloated, 15-person group in the corner which looks like a book club. Tonight’s theme is “outsiders and specialness” and the conversation contains such gems as:

Middle Aged Lady: “Can I tell you guys something? When I was young I thought I was special. I thought was really special! I thought I was so special that I thought I would have a virgin birth! And it has taken me 55 years to realize I AM NOT SPECIAL. I AM NOT SPECIAL AT ALL!”

2L Spring / 2L Spring Summaries / dogs / Judd / Minneapolis-St. Paul / pictures / Uptown Apartment / Whittier / Uptown Minneapolis

BWE 14: I want a pity party

April 26, 2010

It is spring in Minneapolis…

humor / Judd / memories / overheard

Busty seeks Viking Dave

April 20, 2010

Judd and I went to Davanni’s Pizzeria in Uptown Minneapolis last night.

We walk into the pizzeria and there is a busty, middle-aged woman standing in front of the ordering counter near the door.

Busty looks upset and a little crazy, so of course she comes up and talks to us:

0L / gamma eta gamma / Law School / Life

The Crazy: Home edition

August 23, 2008

Today I learned that I can’t escape the crazy. The crazy is omnipresent like the holy ghost or roaches.

First, crazy invades the porch: I am reading on the porch when this French guy named Jan comes up and asks me where he could find “affordable housing.”

I explain to him that the area is mostly fraternity and sorority houses. And, being French, Jan has no idea what the whole greek-life shindig is about.
“Well, at least for undergrads, you typically pay a lot of money and get harassed for six weeks to be part of this semi exclusive organization. This one here is for law students, so we skip the hazing and extraneous fees. What? You don’t know what a lawyer is? Eh…we are those older kids with the thick books that aren’t going to be doctors.”
More questions from Jan, including why American houses are so dirty – I don’t know, because they aren’t French? Jan eventually left. Took forever and a dose of awkward.

I went inside and told one of the housemates about my encounter with the Frenchman. My housemate grinned and said, “Hm, funny. I had the same conversation with him when he came by yesterday.”

Le wtf?

So, the porch isn’t safe from crazy. Fine. Crazy is out in public, at cafes, and right there on my porch…little did I know that crazy had also been in my room.

When I returned to my room I found my miniature lay figure knocked over on my desk. There was also a two year old fraternity application in the middle of my room.

I looked around, halfway worried that crazy was still in the room or that something had been swiped.

Hm. No, everything was still in place….
… the only thing missing was my sense of privacy.

0L / Life

Day of the Crazies

August 10, 2008

I felt like a certain Ms. Someone yesterday because the Crazies were out in full force.

1. Rocker-Clepto Crazy

I sat at the B&N Café downtown at the window-counter. To my left was a tall redheaded punk boy with tattoos and an overbite.

To Punkboy’s left is an Arden B girl: a petite, no-nonsense Brunette who is refined in an unfriendly (but not quite bitchy) way. She’s hunched over her laptop with a grimace on her face.

Punkboy leans over to Ms. Arden and asks to use her phone,
Punkboy: I really really need to call my girlfriend. I can’t use my phone because I don’t have any minutes. It will be really short I promise.

Ms. Arden squirms a bit like “gasp why are you talking to me?!” She then says ‘sure’ and hands over the phone.
Punkboy (on Ms. Arden’s phone): Hey Jamie, it’s me. I’ve been waiting for you at the downtown Barnes and Noble for two hours now. I really really wish you’d pick up your phone baby. I’m going to be here until 4 and then I’m heading over to Rob’s house. I have all your stuff here, your bag, your bike. Why won’t you pick up the phone? If you’re not here by four you can find it over at Rob’s house. I really wish you’d pick up the phone. I hope you’re safe.

Punkboy leaves this whiny message as loudly as possible. I exchange “wtf” looks with Ms. Arden and a pretty Somali woman with an elaborate headscarf at a table behind us. The Somali shoots Punkboy one of the nastiest looks I’ve ever seen.

Punkboy gives the phone back to Ms. Arden and thanks her profusely.
Ms. Arden: No problem.
Punkboy: I really really appreciate it.
Ms. Arden (avoiding eye contact): Okay, seriously, no problem.
Punkboy: It’s just that she’s a Clepto, and I’m never sure if she’s been arrested or not. That’s why I don’t go shopping with her it’s like, “What did you take now?”
Ms. Arden (still staring at her laptop yet completely annoyed): Well, good luck with that.

About 40 minutes later I see this ratty looking girl outside. She looks like a dirty, black-haired version of Robyn. She’s weirdly hunched like she’s cold or violated. She just wanders near the Café window looking over her shoulder (either for a coat or her attacker I guess).

Punkboy looks up, sees Cracked-Robyn and shouts, “TENTH!”

He then jumps up, almost knocking over his chair, and runs outside. Ms. Arden, the Somali and I are all wide eyed / what the hell?

We watch Punkboy run outside and grab Cracky-Robyn by the arm. He hugs her and kisses her. Ms. Arden, the Somali, and I exchange a look. Que Crazy.

Punkboy and Cracky-Robyn come in, gather all their crap and leave. Thank goodness. I returned to Underworld with my phones in.

A few minutes pass and then this stocky short guy sits next to me. He’s middle aged and wears a camouflage cap. He has several of those current-event “administration/political expose books.”

Whcih brings us to #2 – Camouflage Crazy

Since it was the day of the Crazies, of course Camouflage starts talking to me. At first I’m confused because I have my headphones in. I always thought headphones and a book at a café sent a very clear “fuck you & yours/don’t bother me” message.

Camouflage starts telling me about Cheney’s cover up involving WMDs and the Iraq war. There are secret contracts and conspiracies. He goes into detail.

The whole time I stare at him blankly like, “why are you talking to me? Why why why sweet baby Jesus!?”

Camouflage goes on for about ten minutes. And then finally shuts up.

#3 Gaunt the Enquirer Crazy

Later that day I was at the Purple Onion Café, my local hangout. I had headpones on, listening to Rautemusik and attempting to catch up on my favorite blawgs. This gaunt African man (with too many bags) walks in and sits at a table near me. I smile briefly and then look back at the laptop.

A few minutes pass and he asks,
Gaunt-guy: So what are you working on?
Me (taking off an earphone): Pardon me?
Gaunt-guy: what are you working on?
Me: Nothing. I’m reading legal blogs.
Gaunt-guy: What?
Me: Uh, I’m looking at websites.
Gaunt-guy: Oh.

I put my phones back in. Bothered. Crazy #3 at my favorite Cafe. NOOO.
Gaunt-guy: Are you a student at the University of Minnesota?
Me (again, taking off an earphone): What?
Gaunt-guy: Are you a student at the University?
Me: Erm, Yes.
Gaunt-guy: What do you study?
Me: Law.
Gaunt-guy: Very Good.
Me: Do you teach at the University?
Gaunt-guy: No, I wish.

Gaunt-guy goes back to his book and I put my earphone back in, legitimately worried that I just gave too much information to a serial killer.
Gaunt-guy: Where did you go for undergrad?
Me: University of Miami.
Gaunt-guy: What did you study?
Me: History and English.
Gaunt-guy: Ah, so you’re a good writer?
Me: I hope so.
Gaunt-guy: Well, it looks like you have a good background. English and History. Yes. Good background indeed.

Gaunt guy continues reading in his book, and waits for me to put my headphones back in before talking again.
Gaunt-guy: Are you from this country?
Me (wondering why I’m telling him as I’m telling him): No, Germany.
Gaunt-guy: Ah, I’m reading a German philosopher right now. Have you heard of him?
Me: No, sorry.

This line of questioning continued for a bit. It became extremely annoying. I felt like the crew of MTV’s Boiling Points would jump out at any moment. They never did. I eventually got frustrated so I called the first friend in my phone, packed up the laptop, and left.