Weird folks

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Sometimes I think there are more eccentric people in my life than the cast of Twin Peaks. My current Weirdo of the Week is my neighbor across the street. Everytime I see her she is shooting evil glares at my lawn; she seems to take it personally that I find dandelions and crabgrass non-threatening. And I think she's weird because her hobby is to come home every evening and sit on her lawn with a child's sand pail and a dinner fork, weeding her grass. Tell us about the harmless freaks in your life.

-- Anonymous, July 30, 2000

Answers

Well, of course, there is Dennis.

He is the 52 year old man with cerebal palsy that calls me at work every Tuesday at 1pm. I got trapped into being his outside friend by being the only employee that would accept his phone call, they all thought he was a surly drunk...I finally realized he was just impaired.

So I will spend an hour every Tuesday listening to his rambling stories of his depressing childhood...his last story was exceptionally depressing. {pimp} read my journal...

-- Anonymous, July 30, 2000


There are a lot of strange regulars at my store. There's an autistic woman who talks loudly and unabashedly about her genital herpes. Another regular is a mentally retarded young man who wears a suit, tie, and stocking cap no mattter the weather. He comes in a couple times a week, waits patiently at the information counter and then asks for a "wed wubber ban." Some of the newspapers delivered to the store come wrapped in these huge double size red rubber bands and he is obsessed with them. Ocassionally he will return a broken one to us. He's quite sweet and I usually chat with him if I have time. Then there are the people who express concern over Harry Potter's popularity. Their concern is based on the belief that H.P. books are going to have kids dabbling in the occult in no time. Some people have the same theories about pokemon. Me, I just smile my blank customer service smile.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000

One more thing, there's this really weird lady I met on "this here internet." She seems to think I'm her evil twin or something and sends me really creepy sound files. She's always copying me, too, listening to the same music as me, even going so far as to take the same prescritions as me. I sure hope she's harmless.

[giggle...I love you, Klee, don't hurt me!]

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


Ah, yes, bookstores seem to attract Weirdos from all 'round....

We had a number of regulars.

There was Squeak Woman. She was about 5 foot tall, with mousy hair, and a mouth that looked like a draw-string purse. She was always dressed in a variation of the same ensemble: jeans rolled up, striped socks, and flip-flops. And, as her name suggests, she had a loud, glass-shattering squeaky voice. And she'd come up to the counter and loudly complain about this or that in her squeaky voice peppered with "fuckin' this" and "fuckin' that" and "Goddamned everything else"....

And there was The Sheesh Man. The Sheesh Man was the type of guy who was 35 and still lived at home with his mom. Actually... he DID live at home with his mom... he'd tell us his Life Story if you didn't nip him at the bud. Being cornered by The Sheesh Man was like a rite of passage for new employees... well, new FEMALE employees. Sheesh Man was freckled, chunky (but always wore tight shorts) had a face like a gerbil, and was dumb as a box of rocks, and, der, given to exclaiming "SHEESH!" really loud. He'd be in about 3-4 evenings a week, hanging around and trying to make friends. My Initiation with him was when I was working the register. He comes up and announces "You've got great hair. Don't ever cut it." Um. And then many months later, he cornered me in the reference book section. "Are you smart?" he asked me. "Uh... I like to think so," I hedged. "Well, I was just wondering, because it seems like you should be in college or something because I heard you talking to someone else and SHEESH! You blew me away! SHEEESH!" "Uh, thanks," I said weakly, making a break for the back room.

Then there was the woman who lectured us -- during Banned Books Month, no less -- because we didn't (DID NOT) have a copy of Lil' Black Sambo in stock. "We're out of that right now," I said, "but I can special order you a copy." "You're KIDDING! And you're wearing a Don't Ban Books button, too!" she proclaimed. Um, ma'am, I didn't say we wouldn't/didn't carry it... I just said it was out of stock at the moment....

And there was the big gallut who developed a crush on me for a frightening two weeks.... He came in asking for books on writing. Being an English major and a writer myself, along with manning the reference section at the time, I had a good idea of what to suggest. Well, he decided that meant I was deeply interested in his "work" and kept asking me to "proofread" for him. I refused outright a number of times... too busy with work and school, I said (as if his general Creepiness weren't enough...). But a few days later, he came in with a copy of his "manuscript" and a cover letter thanking me for taking time to proofread his story. And after that, he wouldn't leave me alone... and since we wore nametags, he would come in and ask specifically for "Dwanollah" all friendly-like, making my managers think I had some pal visiting me during work hours. The topper came when I, then Community Relations Coordinator, was meeting with the store manager and the district supervisor out on the floor. Chumley came swaggering up, insinuated himself between me and the managers, and said "hi!" And my manager said "Can we help you?" and he said, "Oh, I'm just here to see Dwanollah!" Thank GOD the managers were understanding when I explained the situation after... and from then on, whenever he came into the store, she'd page me to the back room so I didn't have to deal with him. He finally gave up. Frighteningly, though, stuff like that -- customers following employees -- happened/s all the time....

Given half a chance, I'm sure I could remember more of our Cast of Characters at the Big and Nasty Bookstore Chain....

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


He's not really too weird but there's an older man, probably retired, that lives a few blocks away from my apartment, on the same block. He's *always* outside of his place - always. When I walk to the bus for work, he's there, when I come home he's there. If I go to the gym, he's there, if I go to the grocery store, he's there. He always says hello, or comments on the weater. Lately, I've started thinking he might actually be a perfect boyfriend - I'll certainly always know where he is, anyway. There's something to be said for reliability, right? ;)

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


I have a distant cousin in NC, who is somewhat retarded. She loves to send people in the neighborhood little letters with various things photocopied in them (at random.) Unfortunately, within her stash of books, she had a medical book (I don't know where she got it) and she xeroxed the section on sexually transmitted disease and sent that little missive to the neighbors. That book has since left her collection. Now everyone gets various copies of Bill Graham's speeches.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000

I am truly outraged. How dare you call me a LADY, Jill!

Signed,
Jillybean's Evil Effexor-takin', Duran-lovin' Twin

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


Far too many to count, but this week's Star Weirdoes would be my neighbors, the tag-team stalkers.

Stalker A is The Flail, who walks around swinging his arms a lot and muttering vaguely sexual things (and sometimes not-so-vaguely sexual) like "Licorice Stick! Licorice Stick!" and "Mustang Lady! Woo-ee! Some ride!" and "Uh HUH. Mm HMM. Uh HUH. Mm HMM." Needless to say, The Flail appears to be Not All There. He's, as we say down SOuth, Not All Right In The Head.

Stalker B is The Hunch. Slightly more menacing than the Flail, the Hunch apparently lives in the hibiscus bush across the street. No matter what time I come home, he is there. He'll come over and tuck his head down and pace back and forth on the sidewalk in front of our house. Waiting. Staring up from under his eyebrows and Eddie-Murphy- as-Buckwheat hair. Hovering. He, like the Flail, makes comments, but without the random balletic arm swinging. I

I think The Flail is metally disabled and The Hunch is a former crackhead with all his synpses blown, and I rank their threatening-ness based on that. The Hunch is decidedly creepier.

They are buddies and they take turns. They think it's funny, a game, to lurk around and bother us. I made the mistake of telling one of them to "Go Home, Damnit" because his pointless and annoying pseudo- flirtatious rambling and ranting was loud enough to be distracting to my roommate and me while we were having a conversation in our front yard (i.e., addressed him rather than just ignoring him as usual) and ever since then, it has escalated to the point where it's a bi-weekly event, as opposed to once a month or so. I'll call the cops, I'll give my address and tell them which one is lurking THIS time, the same cop comes and picks 'em up, and then we have a few days of respite. The Hunch got carted off this Saturday at 4:30 AM. I got home and voila, my buddy was right there with figurative bells on, lurking, waiting, pacing back and forth in front of the hood of my car. I got tired of sitting inside my car, as it doesn't lock and wasn't feeling all that safe (though I suppose I could have outwaited him if I felt like it), so I drove up to a gas station and sicced the cops on him from there, my favorite cop came and packed him in the black and white, and peace was restored.

It gets fucking OLD. We're probably moving soon, though, as our landlord is terminally ill and just put the house on the market. It's overpriced but in a very desirable area, so we don't see us being able to stay in there for more than a few more weeks. Crap. I hate moving.

Gosh, I'll miss The Flail and The Hunch SO MUCH.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


(Glad you aren't objecting the "weird" bit, Kel, 'cause I know better.... Love, the Duranie Triplet)

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000

My coworkers take the cake. There's the one who has put up a floral curtain across the doorway of her cubicle... and her neighbor, who has constructed a roof over her cubicle, and covered the walls in crushed velvet. There's the guy whose cube is better stocked than my kitchen, with more appliances, too... and that's just the tip of the iceberg.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


After reading Scrwrt's post, maybe I'm the weird one that is the topic of discussion on other forums! I have built an outdoor shower, heated with a solar tank that I made out of the guts of an old hot water heater (we call her Sputnik.) She sits peacefully in the side yard. The neighbors still haven't mentioned it.I have some goofy fountains in the front yard.

I had a blow up astronaut in my cube until recently (not lifesize, unfortunately.) I'd love to put a roof on my cube with crushed velvet interior! That would be too fine!

I haven't yet started wearing aluminum foil hats, though (that would interfere with the radio transmissions to my fillings.)

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000


Lisa - I know someone who *does* wear aluminum foil hats. He also has two vacuum cleaners bolted to his truck to keep the bad vibes/spirits/aliens/whatever away. He swears up and down that aliens abducted him one night. I am not making this up, either.

-- Anonymous, July 31, 2000

Dawnollah! What is is about Big & Nasty that attracts such freaks?! Your stories made me remember some of the other fun folks who frequent my place of employment. There's one huge guy (like 6'5" 300lbs)who attracts a lot of attention because he wears a cowboy hat with feathers, a cape, lots of crystals, and spurs. One time I waited on him at the register and asked politely "How are you?" He replied "I'm magical!" and grinned like an idiot. He mostly behaves himself, though.

There was a man I heard about from another store in my district who always peed in the cushy armchairs. They called him Mr. Peabody.

There are lots of other needy weirdos who ask for me by name sometimes and make me look up stupid shit for them, like every Star Trek audiobook ever published. One guy used to call on the phone and ask about all the Jock Sturges books (very controversial photo essay of naked prepubescents). He'd make us read him all the titles and then ask over and over again "Do you think I'm weird because I'm interested in this?" Then I'd just put him on hold until he hung up. Once I had a nice looking, well groomed gentleman ask me to help him find books about animal mating rituals. That should have set off an alarm bell but I naively went over to the nature section with him anyway. He promptly picked up a book on bonobos and turned right to a page picturing an ape with a huge erection and grinned and said "What do you think about this?"

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2000


But Lisa, if someone asked you WHY the crushed velvet and the roof, would you respond that the fluorescent lighting and cubicle wall pattern made you see floaters?

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2000

Actually, I find that answer strangely compelling! I've found that if you can skew your reasons towards things that give Human Resources the heebie-geebies, there's a better chance of getting your way. I chatted up the crushed velvet here at work, and everyone thought you'd have to work at a dot.com to get away with that. Although we have had employees who wore bowie knives to work, or had pictures of dead squirrels on their desks.

-- Anonymous, August 01, 2000


1. Jill, ya kill me.

2. scrnwrt (which I find myself pronouncing "SKURN-wert"), it's possible-- not likely, but possible-- that the Overlord of the Velvet Cube's reasoning is credible. Migrainors (people who have migraines) see "floaters" and/or "stars" preceding a migraine attack, and for a lot of these people, bright light directly affects the onset/intensity/duration of their headaches. So, in theory, s/he could be sincere. Mind you, building a velvet and tinfoil palace seems a bit extreme. When I get bad migraines at work, I turn off the fluorescents and/or wear my sunglasses inside the office and/or hold a hand over my brows to shield the glare for the lights.

and scrnwrt, I hate to break it to you, but your fiancee Curry (see: Self-Promotional Websites forum) is definitely "weird folk". ;-) ;-)

-- Anonymous, August 02, 2000


I work in paratransit (we provide rides for the disabled) and it seems that most of the people described in this thread would qualify to ride. Some of my coworkers are weird/pathetic; one graduated with a degree in psychology but wouldn't go on with it when he learned he wouldn't be able to physically get into people's brains to 'fix' them, another wears a suit twice a year while driving to air it out, a third is so obnoxiously boring that people walk away while he's still talking to them. The funkiest rider is in the midst of a sex change, she forgets to shave and tends to freak out some of the older riders.

-- Anonymous, August 02, 2000

I encountered a bizarre person a while back...I was taking an engineering-math type course during summer school and some middle aged guy (I was 19 at the time) started chatting me up, offering to buy me Cokes during class breaks, etc. It goes without saying that he was short and portly, with a Chester-the-Molester mustache. The kind of guy who, for all practical puposes, is invisible to 19-year-old girls. I think he said he was an engineer who had been recently laid off or some such thing. Anyhow, after a couple of classes, I found his persistant attempts to be new pals a little creepy, and took to sitting at the front of the classroom and saw no more of him for the rest fo the semester (there were probably 200 peeps in this class).

That is...until the last day. He walked past my desk and DROPPED A NOTE as he went to turn in his final. WTF? I asked myself. Not just any note...It was printed on heavy paper in fancy font, with a little LAMINATED COVER. Creep-o had gone to some trouble. And what he had to say made no sense...something about how he "sensed all the pain in my eyes and wanted to help me become the little laughing girl I had been so long ago. Please. Call me. (with his digits)"

Actually, except for the minor nuisance of an old dude pestering me, I wasn't in too much pain. And my girlhood, at age 19, was still ongoing in my opinion.

Weird. I wondered if maybe he had mixed up messages, and this note was meant for some pain-eyed, age-appropriate chick in one of his other classes. But I doubt it.

-- Anonymous, October 06, 2000


Freaky. I love that he busted out the lamination, though. Dude, that's love.

-- Anonymous, October 09, 2000

fruitbat, as long as he didn't say anything about shooting the President or a rock star to prove his undying love, I think you're pretty safe. Well...did he mention anything about his dog Sam giving him coded messages? Does he make hats out of tinfoil? Just a few "bad signs" to look out for...

The laminated cover and 'poetic' turns of phrase are troublesome, admittedly. Yoiks.

-- Anonymous, October 10, 2000


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