Wrinkle-Faced Psycho

First of all, I did something to the margins and it's spaced oddly.  I tried to fix it, but I don't know what I did!  Sorry about the sloppiness!

The carpet cleaners are here right now and I feel the satisfaction of a clean house.  I can't believe that I got so much done over the weekend!  I'm very proud of myself considering I have one two-year-old who isn't allowed to walk and wants to, another two-year-old who wants to get into everything, and the Masters was on.  How many men out there got yard work done?  Don managed to watch AND get yard work done....I'm pretty impressed.  Go Don, It's your birthday!  Haha.

I just took Dylan to Libbie’s house because I am without my little helper today; she had to go back to school.  Because Carson has to be held 24/7, Dylan also wants to be held too.  Without another person here, it’s impossible to keep both of them happy, so Libbie is keeping Dylan until I have another body here.  Dylan has a lot of fun over there and I'll pick him up this afternoon.  I also have to take Carson back to the doctor to get his leg re-wrapped.  The gauze we wrapped on his leg keeps sliding off. 

So, I said yesterday that I was going to write about this weird guy at the gym.  The reason I feel the need to write about him is because the first week that I blogged I wrote about squirrels, yoga pants, and schizophrenics, remember that?  Go back and read it if you have not and you'll understand this rant you're about to read.  I truly believe that I either notice bizarre behavior more than the average person or I am a magnet for bizarre behavior and it just so happens to find its way near me.  I think I just notice it, at least, I hope that's the case. 

The nicest thing that I can say about this guy is that he’s weird looking.  He doesn’t look like there’s something physically wrong with him, but his face is weird looking and he always has this bizarre expression on it.  He sort of looks like one of those wrinkle-faced dogs.  He's always raising his eyebrows and looking at you with bug-eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead are disturbingly deep.  They would be the type of wrinkles that I'd have nightmares about.  Basically, he’s really creepy looking.  Aren’t I nice?  The first time I saw him I was in Pilates, this was months ago.  He walked up to the glass and stared at us, and being that we’re all girls and our butts are in the air for half of the class, all of us noticed his presence.   He’s always wearing a polo and jeans—not exactly clothes suited for working out, so it is alarming when some guy in street clothes is staring at you while you’re stretching and lunging.  He’s never working out.  He may pretend to be; he may sit down and lift a weight once, but that’s it.  And what’s really creepy is the look you get if you make eye contact with him, which I always do because he freaks me out.  I know that I must be paranoid, but I imagine all of these creepy scenarios like he’s scoping out his next victim to throw in the freezer of something.  And even if he’s not out to get me, I know that it’s a possibility that he'll pick me just for accidentally looking at him and I scare myself to death. 

The next time I saw him was at a coffee shop after I saw “Black Swan” with my brother-in-law.  Again, he had not purchased a coffee or muffin, but he pretended to be doing something productive at the counter that holds the napkins and sugar and stuff.  He was looking over at me and freaked me out again.  On top of that, I was no longer at the gym, but somewhere entirely different so I started thinking that the guy was following me.  Bill was talking to me and I stopped him and said “Do you see that guy there?” And I told him what I just told you. 

I saw him at the gym again and we locked eyes, yet again.  I tried looking away, but every time I looked up, he was sitting there staring at me.  You know how uncomfortable that feeling is when someone is staring at you-it's so uncomfortable that you can't help but continue checking to see if they have stopped.  This is what was happening.  This time he went into the empty yoga room, grabbed a mat, did a meditation pose (with his fingers clasped and all) for about 10 seconds and got up.  He walked around a bit and left.  I just saw him a couple of days ago again and I finally asked the front desk if he had a membership and they said that he does not.  They said that he’s a people watcher.  Well, it made me feel better because he’s known for watching people and he’s not just staring at me.  But, what the hell is he doing?  Is he like Jeffrey Dahmer?  And why does no one else find it odd?  Please someone tell me…..am I paranoid or would you find that strange and creepy too? 

When I was around 23 I dated this guy  who was getting his Master's in forensics or something; he wanted to work for the FBI.  He told me about a story about this guy that had a wife and kids and seemed completely normal.  Well, he wasn't.  One day his wife found his secret.....he had dozens of pairs of womens' feet in the freezer in the garage deep freezer.  I thought at the time "Man, did she not cook?  How would you not notice something like that?"  Can you imagine going out for hamburger and finding a human foot?  Bluhhhhhh!  So sick!  And sad, I am not making fun.  My point is that I have never forgotten this story and I cursed the guy for telling me.  Turns out that this crazy foot-collector only killed brunettes and the reason he never killed his wife is because she was blonde.  Isn't that so scary?????

I had a friend at Georgia State who is living proof that strange people and strange things surround me.....he was almost always there to witness it.  He said "Brittany, stop looking so happy.  Stop looking nice and approachable.  Look at me.  I look like a dick and no one messes with me.  You need to stop looking at people with a friendly expression because it only gets you into trouble."  I thought that it was so sad, but I know that he was right.  I know that this guy isn't out to get me, but he is a reminder that there are bizarre people out there.  And I may be paranoid now, but it's only because I have seen the wrong people with rose-colored glasses in the past.

Here's the Word of the Day.

balderdash \BAWL-der-dash\, noun:

1. Senseless, stupid, or exaggerated talk or writing; nonsense.
2. (Archaic:) A muddled mixture of liquors.