FREAK DUST – Sprinkle that shit everywhere

Day #2 into the New Year and clearly I’m experiencing some residual freak dust from 2015 which brought me so many, many heart-warming moments… Such as…
A strange man asking me if I had a piece of aluminum foil he could borrow – AT.THE.GAS.PUMP.
No MacGyver. I fucking don’t have any aluminum foil you can borrow.
And the woman at Walgreens.
– I simply went in for a bottle of Ibuprofen… –
One register open, six people in line and the woman behind me tugs on my coat like a five-year-old and says, “Excuse me but you wouldn’t happen to have some rubber bands I could I borrow would you?” I looked at her completely dumbfounded.
“What?” I couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked so perfectly normal.
“Do you have any rubberbands? I hate waiting in lines and I wanted to start a rubber band ball.”
– Seriously thought I was on a hidden camera at this point being filmed for some freak reality t.v. show. –
I said, “Oh, no, I’m sorry I don’t have any rubber bands you can borrow but I think I met your husband at the gas station the other day…”
Make that two bottles of Ibuprofen, a fifth of whiskey and a loaded gun.
And now. Day #2 of 2016 and I’m asking myself yet again, what the fuck is it?
Is there something on my forehead?
On my ass?
Do my eyes glow serving as a beacon of light to every freak on the planet???
I’m at the grocery store looking for something healthy because I ate myself into oblivion over the holidays. – Hey, don’t judge. You know you did too. –
When along comes some random woman that I’ve never seen before in my life and she proceeds to tell me how we’re related.
Not even kidding. She swore up n’ down that  I was her relative from Montana, but she just couldn’t put her finger on how we were related or what my name was. Says she saw me at a family reunion..
I tell her I’m from Michigan, not Montana.
“Are you sure?” She asks..
“Yep, I’m pretty sure.”
The woman was absolutely adamant that I was her relative and she actually got pissed at my insistence that we were in fact NOT related. THEN, she starts following me around the store!
“Well, you look just like Aunt Betty.”
Finally, I’d had e-fucking-nough!
I turned around and said, “Look. I’m not Betty or Barney or Fred or mother fucking Wilma. This isn’t Bedrock, it’s Boise, and I’m not your fucking relative! Shuffle on.”
To which she says… “Maybe you’re Margaret’s daughter.”
At that point, I just started shopping for sharp objects…
Because yeah. This shit really happens to me…

Think I’m just gonna’ stay inside for a while. Like the next ten years maybe…