their ears is full of crazy.
What do all the girls named Melissa I ever knew have in common? Batshit crazy. In particular, the one who worked for the company that managed my apartment. It wasn’t all bad:
- she liked to undo her top when tanning.
- she liked to tan a lot.
- she didn’t like to overdress to play cards and drink beer after a long day of tanning.
- she liked to dance around the edges of flirting with me.
But not so much:
- She liked to dance around the edges of flirting with Chris, too.
- Then banged Chris, not me.
- Constantly messed with his mind.
- Tried to mess with mine.
Melissa: What are you doing at my door.
Dork neighbor: You asked me to come by.
Melissa: Oh I did? Oh, uh, I was just on my way out the door. Prayer meeting.
- Was utterly unfamiliar with paying her share of a tab.
Melissa: let’s go get sushi
Chris: Yay! Maybe I’ll get laid.
Melissa: Let’s invite your dork neighbor.
Dork Neighbor: Yay! Maybe I’ll get laid.
Melissa: No, we’re just buds pooling our resources for a great meal.
Dudes: *Sigh. No cooch for you. SSDD.*
Waitress: Here’s your $90 tab.
Melissa: *crickets*
- couldn’t do any social activity whatsoever without playing the goddamned Dave Matthews song above.
Our dogsitter/housesitter/kidsitter/pal Melissa is a whole different kind of crazy, but as a single mom/student/jobholder with 2 dogs, guest dogs, and a 10 year old, she gets a temporary pass. Especially since on of the dogs ate her stress management regimen for which she had to look a replacement from Budpop.
