Crazies Like Ribs Too

Met up with my long-lost buddy Buhster last night for some happy hour festivities at Chilis. Apparently, we attract crazies. As we leisurely sipped our frozen margaritas, a very normal woman excitedly approached us and began talking about our table. We chalked her strange behavior up to the very reasonably priced drinks.

However, when she returned a few minutes later to tell us why she'd taken up smoking Brand X cigarrettes at the age of 60 and how she would surely die soon, we confirmed our suspicions that crazies follow us, even to fine eating establishments.

We were later joined by Phukker, who, not to be outdone, attracted a whole new brand of crazy. After we shot the buh for a while, some crazy ass looking guy slowly walked passed, pausing briefly outside of the kitchen entrance as if deciding whether or not stealing a beef rib would be worth a night in jail. He decided against it and proceeded to stand about 5 feet behind us in a stooped position. I was quite convinced that he was pissing his pants, but I cannot confirm or deny that allegation.

Tis a typical night out for Miss Misc.