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Crazy DC Lady in the Van Ness Starbucks; or, What’s So Crazy ‘Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding

June 7, 2009
by

I was second in line at the local Starbucks, and the woman in front of me had just finished paying. I noticed an older woman standing to my left, jockeying to get the barrista’s attention before he turned to me.

Thinking she may have been in my blind spot, I asked her, “Were you in line?”

She turned to me, oozing crazy. “You’re accusing me of butting ahead of you in line. I know your type, you fucker. ”

If she didn’t seem so crazy, I would have gone round and round with her swearing up a storm. However, she clearly had a performance-enhancing chemical imbalance. I wouldn’t have stood a chance. And I am a fucker. She had me pegged right from the start.

So it goes.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. JoJo permalink
    June 8, 2009 12:21 am

    congratulations on having a type. and having it being epistemically acessible, i.e. knowable.

  2. David permalink
    June 10, 2009 11:19 pm

    I like you you titled this similar to my post about leather ordering “chicken for a salad” at the deli by my office. Here’s the thing: crazy people hardly phase me anymore. I think it’s mostly due to the fact that I live in Columbia Heights. I walk out of my apartment and I am literally surrounded with people who are out of their fucking minds. Your post should be viewed more as a springboard for identifying the shear volume of crazy fucking maggots in this city, than for merely pointing out a run in with one of the many. My two cents.

    It’s been so long since I posted a meaningful comment on this blog, that I’ll probably be sore from this tomorrow morning.

    Piece out.

    -Deej

    • Barry permalink*
      June 10, 2009 11:53 pm

      All the animals come out at night – whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets. I go all over. I take people to the Bronx, Brooklyn, I take ’em to Harlem. I don’t care. Don’t make no difference to me. It does to some. Some won’t even take spooks. Don’t make no difference to me.

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