Crazy People are My Best Friends

In yet another episode of "Sweet Lady is a Crazy Dude Magnet"

I went to pick up some meds at my pharmacy and on the way out a very nice older African American gentleman was greeting people as he came down the hallway. I think it's nice when people acknowledge each other instead of walking past like nobody is there. See my entry Invisible Girl for the logical extension of that ideology. Anyway, it is so nice and neighborly when people say "hello" on the street. I do it in my neighborhood a lot while walking my dog. Dog owners have this little friendly ambassador that make walking past someone without acknowledgement very difficult. Your dog will say hi, so you might as well. I used to be chronically shy, so I wouldn't look up while walking. But I made a goal earlier this year to do things a man would do. A man would just walk forward, looking at whomever he pleased. So I do that now. Anyway, back to my story.

The gentleman in question said "hello" and everyone in the hallway said it back and he kept walking, so I felt safe. You would too, right? "Hello," I said. And well, his freakmagnet meter went all haywire because instead of just tugging on his hat and walking past like he just did five times, he said, "Wow, you look like that movie star!"

Nobody in their right mind would just walk away from that. Nobody. I had to know. I was wearing a faded blue bandanna to cover my hair, jeans, and a nautical blue and white striped top. Not movie star gear. So I asked "Which one?" And he paused. So in the pause, I sent him a warning "Be careful which one you choose, now." To which he replied "Oh you know the one....she married the little guy....Jennifer Lopez. NO! Wait! Eva Longoria."

Yeah, so maybe he was probably there for cataract surgery. SO WHAT. It was awesome. Most people don't place me as a Latina. I usually get arab, Iranian, Italian even. So it was nice to represent for a minute. Then he said I looked like Amy Winehouse because of the tattoos. And he followed me almost to the parking lot before taking the hint that the moment was over and saying "Have a nice day." Crazy? Check. Delusional? Check. Do I care? No. Is that sad? Maybe.

To Continue My "Freakmagnet" Theme...

I had a yummy lunch today with my friend Brande. We went for Indian food and though the service was a little slow for some reason, the food was good and we got to catch up. Brande is busy as hell lately because she's working on the No on Prop. 8 campaign. If you want to help out, please click that link or email brande at lokahioutreach.org.

Anyway, she's very busy so we caught up at lunch and she had to leave before our super slow waiter came with the check. I've been to this restaurant a few times. He is new, or new-ish, because I hadn't seen him before. He saw me alone at the table and I had my hand to my mouth. My finger was on my lip because my lips are dry. "Mental note: lip balm at CVS on the way home," is what I was thinking. But he mimicked my gesture and said, in a fairly thick Indian accent, "No. you shouldn't bite your fingers." I just sat there kind of perplexed and stunned when he said it, so he continued: "Do you know what psychologists say about people who bite their fingers? That they were not fed enough as babies."

WTF?

Here's the texted conversation between me and Brande after the incident:

Me: Dude, the waiter just told me not to bite my finger. And then he said that in psychology, biting your fingers is a sign you were not fed enough as a baby!

Brande: Tell him it was a psychological reaction to waiting a thousand hours for our check.

Me: Do you think he was trying to tell me I'm fat?

Brande: I think it was that you are underfed. Or it was a weird pickup line.

For the record, I waddled over to the buffet line twice, and when he offered Diet Coke, I said Regular. There's no way the guy thinks I'm underfed.

Someone mocked me to my face and then said "no."

My life. In a nutshell.