Weird out the weirdos

Years ago my sister and I met-up in a coffee shop in Boulder called Penny Lane for an open-mic night. So 90’s Boulder cliche of us.

As I was waiting for her this odd vagrant approach my table. I could tell he was a half a bubble off plumb and he was really creeping me out – asking all sorts of bizarre questions and eying me up and down. I just kept smiling and being polite hoping I didn’t set him off.

When my sister arrived she quickly assessed the situation and just jumped right in.

“Hello,” she said, her eyes wide with an almost fanatical smile on her face. “Did you see the moon tonight? It’s purple.”

The vagrant looked at her like she was insane as he drew back. He quickly turned, keeping her in his sight out of the corner of his eye, and then he left the coffee shop altogether.

“You have to weird-out the weirdos, Ann. Let’s get some chai,” she said nonchalantly as she shed her coat.


Last night I had an odd dream that Jessica Alba was in my house on a murderous rampage. This wasn’t my house as I know it now, but a much bigger, cooler house and my family was littered about it in heaps. I knew she was coming for me next, but she was playing with me in the meantime – taking her time, making me sweat it out, messing with my head.

Somewhere along the path, I remembered what my sister had said many years ago (isn’t it so cool when reality and dreams collide and you realize you’re making conscious choices in a typically subconscious world?) and decided to play back.

So I went full-on crazy on Jessica Alba. At one point she dared me to cut her with a knife. And as I was pressing the blade into her skin I had this moment of pause like, “What the hell am I doing? This isn’t me. I can’t purposely hurt someone like this.” But I did it anyway. Her reaction was much like the vagrant – she drew back and retreated.

The lesson? Weird out the weirdos and out-crazy the crazies. Just don’t lose yourself to it, of course.

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