Bath Salts


Yesterday I alluded to opening the newspaper to find this article.

At first I was all, “Oh look, some nut job set his neighbor’s house on fire and tried to kill them. Then I saw the picture and the name and I was like, “Oh shit. I know him!”

I’m not going to mention his name or put his picture on my site because I met him years ago in an adult gymnastics class, he was my instructor.

I guess I am attracted to insanity because I started up a brief friendship with him that ended when he called me from Aspen, broke as a joke with a very sad story about his business partner fucking him over and could I please lend him some money and let him crash at my house because his only other option was to drink a whole fifth of vodka.

Fortunately he started dating an acquaintance of mine (not a close one, thank God) and then he became her problem. Whew.

Anyway, I don’t know if he remembers me or is pissed that I didn’t rescue him but I don’t want a Google search of his name to turn up my blog. Just incase he wants to get back at me and set my house on fire. Which is why I have a big dog.

But something tells me homeboy is going to jail for a very long time.

I can’t say that I was terribly surprised by all of this, though. I mean really, his name is Damien for Chrissake. What the fuck were his parents thinking?

Everyone knows that if you name your kid that, he will end up being the Devil’s spawn and end up snorting bath salts (which I just figured out are not actual bath salts at all, but rather a code-name for speed that turns you into a homicidal maniac) and setting his neighbor’s house on fire. With them in it.

Really, who (besides Tabby) hasn’t seen The Omen, or at least heard of it? Sheesh.

I’d like to blame this one on Zeb, but I have noticed that I have a thing for crazy people. I’m not sure what it is about them that attracts me. It might be that sociopaths can be very charismatic or that I enjoy people who are unapologetically off-kilter, but that’s on a good day. The bad days are scary.

I don’t trust myself to pick friends anymore, I have the worst BS detector ever and I like kooky people. I can’t say that Zeb is much better at it.

I doubled up yesterday because I had some shit I had to get out of the house, pronto. Good old Rockin’Moms. That Yahoo group snapped up everything lickety-split!

6 thoughts on “Bath Salts

    • Once someone called my lifestyle “artistic”. Yeah, that’s it. I’m artistic!

      I haven’t even told the story about our housemate that I called The Wolfman or the pathological liar that lived here who, I suspect, was doing some kind of speed and engaging in mail fraud.

      It never ends, I tell you, the constant stream of ALL TRUE stories. I ought to right a book. Maybe that’s what I’m doing.

Really? No way.

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