Crazy-pants
A: So, I did something really embarrassing… again.
D: Awesome. How bad? I hope bad. :)
A: Not terrible, just humiliating. Okay, it’s pretty bad actually. I was noodling around on facebook and commented on a friend’s photo. It was of some crazy looking lobster that she was going to eat. But since we used to discuss animal rights stuff in HS I sort of teased her about it a bit.
D: uh-huh. What’s a bit?
A: I just made an obnoxious comment, like I do, and then promptly forgot about it.
D: So what did you say?
A: I may have referred to her as Dr. Mengele.
D: Woah.
A: But that’s not the worst part. It turns out that I mixed up the friends.
D: Huh? Mixed up the friends? So wait, exactly who did you call Dr. Mengele?
A: Remember that girl [redacted] that I slept with a few times last summer?
D: Oh. My. God. That’s AWESOME! When was the last time you even spoke to her?
A: Before calling her a nazi just now? Last summer.
D: I love this! How the fuck did you mix these people up anyway?
A: I don’t know! They both have really similar Jewey names. And they recently changed their photos or something. I just wasn’t paying attention I guess.
D: Wait… she’s JEWISH?!
A: Yeah, well you know how I kept trying to date gentiles but then they would later turn out to be Jewish?
D: Sure, sure. I feel like that’s a uniquely New York kind of problem. But that does put a new spin on this whole thing. Jews don’t usually like being compared to Dr. Mengele.
A: Tell me about it. Anyway, it looks like I referred to this woman, who I haven’t spoken to in months, as the Nazi angel of death in response to a picture of a lobster and now I’m afraid that it makes me look like I’ve had a psychotic break.
D: It really does! How many times did you sleep with her anyway?
A: I don’t know, like two or three times. Not a lot.
D: Oh! So why do you even care what she thinks?
A: I don’t know! Because I’m shallow, OK?! In my defense, it really WAS a super creepy looking lobster.
D: Yeah, I’m not sure that’s really going to matter here. This really does make you look like an obsessed, crazy person. The worst part is that you can’t really do anything to fix it without appearing even more crazy.
A: I know! But that’s why I’m coming to you. There has to be something I can do to dilute the insanity out of this event without looking like a stalker.
D: Yeah, I’m not so sure there is. I think you’re just going to look crazy-pants no matter what. Maybe you can write out an explanation in your own blood and nail it to her door. You know, just to really drive the creepiness thing home.
A: Why do I even come to you?
D: You love me!
A: I hate you. Besides, I’ll bet you there’s something I can do. Just wait… you’ll see.
D: I doubt it. But keep me posted anyway.
