Fly Paper for Freaks....

That is going to be the name of my autobiography. Fly Paper for Freaks. Because sometimes that is exactly what I feel like. The freaks are the flys. And I am their fly paper. It seems like they find me. Where ever I go. Its inescapable. I know that the more you move, the more likely you are going to experience an increase in whacko experiences. Its simple math, in the probability and percentages. The more you move around and relocate, the more people you are exposed to over time, and thus the more likely you are to cross paths with people who put the f*@# in WTF?!?!?!?! We've lived in 9 different houses in 9 different places in 7 different states in the last 13 years. That is a shit load of opportunities to experience new and different levels of crazy. 

Our first home was in TN and was on a quiet little cul-de-sac. It was a wonderful home and I remember it fondly. We were only there for a year so we didn't really get to know too many of our immediate neighbors very well. There was one, however, that stands out. Cop cars in front of the house in the middle of the night 4 times within 6 months has made her hard to forget. I don't think I ever knew her name, but I do remember getting trapped on my own front porch with her (after my mother and husband escaped inside and NEVER came out to rescue me!) as she shared with me every detail of the drama in her world. About why she had to have her fiancé taken away in handcuffs because he was so mad at her for bringing her boyfriend to the house (HIS house, the fiancé's house) when he was away for work, and how it wasn't good for the 2 young children to see him so upset, because they really like the boyfriend.

Then there was the guy in FL who lived next door with his elderly mom. The unemployed 40+ year old who made his mom pay to have the grass cut because "I did that growing up. I'm not doing that anymore." Nice. This is a guy who smoked so much pot, he didn't think he could pass a drug test for a construction job, so he asked - YES, came right out and ASKED - my husband if he could "borrow" some of his pee. My husband, who was working drug interdiction at the time. Irony, anyone? That the guy does soooooo many drugs, he asks my husband who is working drug interdiction for his pee. Say, WHA......???? This is the same guy who was murdered in the driveway 3 months after we moved away. Local speculation is it was either a drug deal gone bad or a really effed up "love triangle". Huh??? And I thought dealing with poisonous snakes was the worst thing I would have to deal with in Florida...

But up until this point, it seemed like the freaks we encountered were relatively harmless freaks. Like if you kept your wits about you, you could sit back and be entertained by their shenanigans and freakishness and drama. Shit got real in Michigan. This was when my husband pissed off a neighbor, inadvertently, by joking with him that when our air conditioner wasn't working the day we moved in, we might have to crash on his floor with sleeping bags, ha ha ha. Well, apparently he took that seriously and decided he didn't like my husband. So much so that after one particularly egregious offense, he decided to wait in his garage with a baseball bat for my husband to come home from work. That's us, making friends everywhere we go. Needless to say, I've forbidden my husband from making jokes with people when we first meet them. At least until we find out what sorts of weapons they keep in their house.

Alabama was one giant clusterfuck of freakish experiences that literally had my head ready to explode. From the open prayer "In the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ" in a public school at school functions, to the passing out of Bibles outside the cafeteria at lunch time, to the people who told me not to ask too many questions about religion or race because I could end up with a cross burning in my yard, to the people down the street who informed my children on Halloween that they were going to hell for trick or treating. I don't even have to go into the weird next door neighbor who came into my house one morning, sat down on my couch, and wouldn't leave for 2 freaking hours. I could keep going, but I think I've made my point about our experiences in the state of Alabama.

Which brings me to our current situation. We love where we live and for the most part couldn't be happier with our choice to live where we live. But true to form, we selected the ONE house in the neighborhood that is surrounded - literally, surrounded - on all sides by some level of whackishness. Harmless crazy lives across the street in the form of the guy who mows his grass in penny loafers, sweats, a collared polo shirt, and a sweater vest. A bit whacky, but at least he's entertaining to watch. Then next door, we have the family with an 8 foot ball python. That they bring outside in the summer to let it "exercise" in the tree right next to the fence between our yards. I looked it up, and its not illegal until the snake is 10 feet long. Cuz its that extra 2 feet that make it dangerous. Holy mother freaking shit balls you have to be mother effing kidding me!!! This news brought me to tears. As someone with a honest to God snake phobia (not just oh get it away from me I don't like it snake phobia, but complete melt down hysterical hyperventilating when I see one can't go through the reptile house at the zoo level of snake phobia) knowing that this thing is living next door and that summer is rapidly approaching has my nerves on "permanently fried" status. But other than the pet that could potentially kill and eat my children, they have been very nice to us. They understand my.....issues, and have promised to be aware of that and take it into consideration before bringing their pet outside in the summer. I can ask for no more than that. 

And then there is drama central on the other side. Where to begin....well, there is a woman, her 5 children, the boyfriend (now step dad), and the dog. Woman is a midwife (but uncertified), has health issues and has been on and off "pain management", smokes like a chimney (which she says she has to do because of her pain), and is now pregnant with #6. Yup. A pregnant midwife who smokes. Yet somehow she is on a potato only diet due to her health issues and pain management needs. Don't ask, because I don't know. Man has worked as everything from a masseur, to a race car driver, to a contractor. I don't know what he does now, other than drive Woman to her appointments and births, because he doesn't work anywhere. There are the kids, who just stare at you Addams Family style when you speak to them. Its truly creepy. Truly. The Coup D'Etat of Crazy was learning about the "spiritual cleansing" that was performed there recently because there was supposedly a "demon" attached to one of the older kids after he returned from the bio-Dad's house. Folks, we have officially attained a new level of WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Now don't get me wrong. I have met so many of my dearest friends along the way in my travels, and many in the very places where I encountered all the heavy duty "Crazy". My AL friends, without them, I wouldn't have survived that year. Seriously. I wouldn't be here now. And I love my friendships with my neighbors in MI and am still close with Bat-Man's ex wife. And Florida is where I made some of my best friends, friends that will never leave my heart or my Christmas card list. And I foresee the possibility of making connections here with people I have met. So I truly hope I haven't offended any of my friends who think I am referring to you when I talk about the freaks I have encountered over the years. Most of you are exactly my kind of crazy. I'm talking about the over-the-top whacked out things that fall in under the header "You just can't make this shit up". And I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I guess I should be used to it by now, being fly paper for freaks. Between the child eating snakes and the exorcisms, I suppose I'll feel right at home.