Monday, February 16, 2009

Hint Taken

So, yeah Nations, I can take a hint. Over a month is WAY too long to go without posting something. And yes, I should TOTALLY do the "Freak Series." I think to start it off, instead of giving the honour of first to one of the local garden variety freaks, I'll start it off properly with the Freak Master of All Freaks, the one known as "Head Fuck," or HF for short. Of course, by starting with HF, it may just make the rest of the series anticlimactic. But who cares? (Actually, the HF Chronicles could be a series of its own.)

HF is someone I had the misfortune of first meeting by way of the interweb via HF's blog. Of course blog reading leads to commenting which leads to emails and in this particular case, to in person interaction.

Anyhoo, HF turned out to be a real head case. Now, I have no formal training in the psychiatric profession but I can recognize certifiable when I see it. The first time I met HF in person I got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach cuz ol' HF looked nothing like the picture that I had assumed to be HF. That's what happens when we assume. Then we start rationalizing. Second mistake. First mistake was not listening to the gut. Always listen to the gut.

So we go on up to HF's place and HF proceeds to tell me about all the stuff in the flat that the ex roommate had bought for HF and what a loser and an asshole ex roommate was etc., etc., etc. Oh, this was going to turn out just wonderfully!


So then HF wants to go get a bite to eat. And btw, HF had no job at the time. Naturally, where does a broke, unemployed person go for a bite but to an overpriced restaurant. Uh huh. And let's of course sit outside so that we can shout at "the rude people" who blow their horns in traffic. And get all pissed off when I answer my cell phone. And get pissed when the waitress compliments me on my hair. And complain about the food. And after the meal let's pick a fight with a stranger for the high crime of blocking the pedestrian crosswalk.

Soooo, back to the flat. Sit around, shoot the shit...Hey! Let's go back out for drinks! More complaining about the food. And the service. Have a few too many, drop me back at my place. And when I say drop me at my place, let's not waste any time actually pulling into my driveway and see that I get in safely, let's do the 30 roll and tell me, "Ok, get out!"

Charming. The fucker was so miserable and disagreeable I expected that to be the last I'd see of HF. Was I ever wrong.

I think I will make this its own series.