Welcome to Crazytown
I have frizzy hair. Please, please, you are too kind. There is no need to protest in my hair’s defense. I know I have frizzy hair. The Hunch-Back Woman at the post-office told me so. If anyone knows frizzy, it’s the Hunch-Back Woman with her I Dream of Jeannie couture, Sideshow Bob ‘do, and John Wayne Gacy clown make-up.
During a Starbucks Workday last week, I decided to take a brief study break and stop by the nearby post office to mail a package. I pass this post office frequently and Hunch-Back Woman appears to be a permanent fixture. You can smell her before you see her — she’s fond of a particularly aromatic variety of maryjane. In fact, if you stand downwind of her for a minute, you get just a little high.
Hunch-Back Woman usually stands at the door to the post office and opens it for the unsuspecting public like a mime playing a doorman except that the door is real. And she is not silent. I say “unsuspecting” because the last thing you expect as she holds the door open is to have her bellow the post office hours in your ear. It’s a lovely customer service. I don’t know why the post office didn’t think of it themselves. It’s so much more convenient than having to review the hours plainly posted on the door.
What post office patrons could do without, however, is the colorful dressing down they receive if they ignore the nasty coffee-cup tip jar half filled with an unknown, grayish fluid she shakes in your face as you enter the building. Hunch-Back Woman has quite a repertoire. “Cheap bastard!” and “Dirty Whore” seem to be her favorites, but those epithets are usually reserved for the people who actually tip her. Those who don’t tip her are often called much worse. Her favorite — perhaps she is a fan of Mike Myers’s films — seems to be “Fat Bastard.” Every now and then I’ve heard her let loose with “Motherfucker!” but I think that special nickname is reserved for those who decide that facing off against Yucko the Hopheaded Clown is not on their Bucket List and decide to come back some other time.
On this particular day, I had already been tapped out of tips. Figuring I would get a pass because I give Hunch-Back Woman change every time I see her, I offered a smile and a “Sorry.” Oh, yes, I was sorry. Her pasted-on smile immediately transformed into one of Virgil’s Furies and I began to wonder if Hunch-Back Woman’s Wet & Wild Carnage Red lipstick was actually the bloody remnants of other non-tippers. She sucked in enough air to demonstrate a lifetime of perfecting the art of inhalation before expelling a loud and vicious…
“FRIZZY!”
Um, what? Frizzy? Frizzy?! I was stunned. I was braced for “bitch” or worse, but not FRIZZY! Is FRIZZY worse than Dirty Whore, Cheap Bastard, Twatwaffle, or all the other colorful euphemisms for men, women, sex acts, minorities, and homosexuals? Because, believe me, I’ve heard her use almost all of them but I’ve never heard her use FRIZZY. Self-consciously I reached up to touch my hair. Had I forgotten to use my humidity resistant gel this morning? I did switch conditioners, but this winter weather has really made....
Seeing my weakness she pounced on it.
“Your hair is FRIZZY! FRIZZY! FRIZZY! Hahahahah! You have FRIZZY hair!”
I rushed past her into the post office lobby checking over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t flying at me with VO5 and a hair net. I seemed safe for the time being and the long lines at the post office almost assured me that she would be gone by the time I left. And thank goodness, she was.
So, stamps in hand, my frizzy hair and I headed back to Starbucks. About a block away, I felt a presence at my shoulder. Oh, no, I thought. I walked a little faster. The shadow kept pace. I slowed down. So did the shadow. I was trying to avoid a confrontation but apparently there was going to be one whether I liked it or not. I quickly turned to face Hunch-Back Woman and was surprised to find that it wasn’t her. My shadow was a thin, bespectacled, confused-looking man in colorful superhero tights and high-tops. Thinking that maybe he was lost or needed some other assistance I asked, “Can I help you?” This man who two seconds before was walking close enough to give me a colonoscopy suddenly reared back and yelled, “YOU STINK!!”
What.
The.
Fuck?!
Surely he and Hunch-Back woman came from the same family shrub. One root. One branch. Twice the crazy. He repeated it again just in case I missed it at 180 decibels. “YOU STINK!!”
This time I was ready.
Me (in sweetest voice evah!): Why thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day.
Shrub: No! I said, you STINK!
Me (very sweet): I heard you. Again, you are too kind.
Shrub (getting frustrated and welling up with tears): No, no, no, no! I said —
Me (making myself choke with my own sweetie sweetness): I know. And you really are a doll but I must be running now. You have a nice day!
Shrub (crying): crycrycrycrycry
I don’t know what the lesson is from all of this. Do I need to pay more attention to my personal hygiene? Do I need to find a Starbucks that is not in Crazytown? Or maybe I should just tape twenty-dollar bills to my packages and avoid the post office. My packages will still get to their destinations, right?
Posted on Sunday, April 05, 2009 at 07:32 PM.
Tags: It's off to work we go, In The Neighborhood, Fashion is Smashin'!
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Comments & Trackbacks
Wow, rough day in NY. Rest assured there are still people who love you in spite of your stench and uncontrolled frizziness. Thankfully The Hunch-back and The Shrub took care of telling you about these problems so we didn’t have to.
Twatwaffle is my new favorite word.
Oh how I love pulling Sunshine & Lollipops on people who say something mean.
Twatwaffle is a WONDERFUL word, especially when you say it out loud!
I am guessing that when you smell of something other than “special herb” and meth, the crazies find you a bit “off”.
What the FIRETRUCK?!?! You came to Texas to visit Uberschool and didn’t stop by my classroom???! I thought we were cool...but there you go, ditchin’ me at my school AND DISSIN’ me on my internet!!!
Not to mention that you are bashin’ my Star Students: Henrietta Hunchback and Simon the Shrub. They’ve worked so hard to assimilate into society, but does that matter to you? Nope.
Heartless hussy.
bwuah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!
Ha! That is a particular colorful NY day, I’m guessing? I mean, I can see the potential for crazy at every corner, but to unintentionally find it twice in a few minutes time? That’s got to be some weird mojo or something.
P.S. I loved your hair and I didn’t smell a thing wrong with you. Promise.
Because it is my mission to see the best in people, I have a few behavioral hypotheses:
1. HBW thought you were the Simon Cowell of a new American Idol-like show for writers and wordsmiths. Twatwaffle? That’s almost Shakespearean.
2. HBW planted your hair stylist as some kind of Ponzi scheme to get you into the salon more often.
3. Shrub’s family was kidnapped by some perfume magnet and he had to meet his perfume sale quota by a certain time or else his family would be murdered.
4. The Universe sent this people to remind you that you are going to heaven.
Woooow. Our crazy people are trained not to talk to the public if they can help it. They’re reduced to the persistent bug-eyed stare and territorial pacing. I did get the PeeLady talking to me about handbags once in a while when it was my turn to have to sit next to her on the bus, but never with the insults and following.
Twatwaffle will now replace fucktard in my vocabulary! Frizzy is a strange type of put down to yell at random people. But I think if it was yelled at me, I’d become extremely self conscious. Stink, eh, not so much. The two crazies around my block wear mp3 players and just yell random things over their music. Want me to send you a couple mp3 players?
Pleasepleaseplease go take a picture of HBW? Pretty please? I think it’s the same lady that used to work at the grocery. She was very tall, had a dyed black beehive about 2’ tall, shaved off her eyebrows and drew new ones on the middle of her forehead, wore bright blue eyeshadow all the way up to those eyebrows and white lipstick. She also wore polyester pantsuits that were too tight.
I’m with Jules; twatwaffle is my new favorite word.
As I was reading this, I felt strangely uneasy. I mean, it would be nothing to just assume that you’ve got a particular flair for detailed fiction, but this feels a little too real to me. I don’t think I’d survive in Crazy Town; I’d never leave my apartment.
Wow. Just - wow. That’s so awesome that you made the Shrub cry by being sweet. Lol. I feel bad for people like that but I still won’t let them make a doormat of me. I gotta live too you know.
Holy! Is this true??? I would have punched the little guy, and cried at the hunch back. You are a stronger person than I.
Jules — I’m glad someone finally spoke up! Geez, I thought you people were my friends and you’ve been letting me walk around stinky and frizzy all this time?
MsDarkstar — I hope you remember what your teachers told you: Every time you learn a new word, you’re supposed to use it in conversation during the day so that you don’t forget it. I’m sure your co-workers will appreciate your expanded vocabulary.
Ms. H — You have and HBW and Shrub as well? Do they offer timely tips as to personal hygiene?
justrun — My week was relatively normal until I ran into those two. I think the universe was trying to make up for lost time.
thecoconutdiaries — You know that St. Peter isn’t really the one to great us at the pearly gates, right? HBW and Twatwaffle are there instead. If you have frizzy hair and stink, you are immediately sent to Hell with all the other social misfits.
Lyvvie — Hahahaha! You have a rotation for sitting next to PeeLady. I’m sure that discussions about handbags is interesting but wouldn’t it be better (and more lucrative) if she doled out stock tips?
Jules — I think you just came up with the best plan ever! I’m going to wear my mp3 player around town and can say anything I want! People will think I’m just listening to some weird podcast when I yell insults to people who block the grocery aisles and ride their bikes on the sidewalk.
Shania — White lipstick? What the —? You know, everything about that description seems pretty normal for CrazyTown but the white lipstick is just beyond the pale (pardon the pun).
Mrs. Chili — Oh, Mrs. C, do not be alarmed. I encounter hordes of one or two normal people every day. They are just not as interesting to write about.
FreedomFirst — I felt a little bad for Shrub. I had obviously ruined his day. But then again, I spent the next several hours surreptitiously smelling my arm pits so I think he and I are even.
jane — They were rude but seemed relatively harmless. I reserve my Karate Kid Crane skills for those people who seem crazy and threatening. Okay, I don’t really have Karate Kid Crane skills but if I did, I would reserve them for people who seem crazy and threatening.
... You really do live in crazy town, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just tourette syndrome.
What. The. Fuck. That’s indeed a nutty day. Hell with Starbucks. I would have headed for the bar.
BTW, I didn’t know they were still making Wet & Wild Carnage Red lipstick. lol.
P.S. I have frizzy hair too.
Okay, it sounds like I need to come up to NYC and kick some homeless ASS.
I’m with Shania: we need pictures of the HBW.
And I thought I was crazy...for some reason the hunch back lady part of your story reminds me of the Seinfeld epsiode where Elaine breaks up with a guy and he tells her she has a giant head.
It is not my mission to see the best in everyone, so my behavioral theses are as follows:
1. People are crazy.
2. People are scary.
3. I hate people.
But I admit that “frizzy” as an insult is sort of genius. If she’d called you a dirty whore or whatever, the sympathy would be with you. With “frizzy,” you know others are looking at you and thinking, “well. She could use a little conditioner.”
Love flurrious’ comment and couldn’t agree more!
Frizzy totally would’ve gotten to me, too. I kinda like being called a bitch.
But I love the way you handled the Shrub. And that nickname is priceless!
I can’t believe that. I think NYC would eat me alive if I had to live there. I simply cannot deal with people crazier than me.
Btw, I think you have awesome hair.
Marjolein — Never a dull moment here in Crazytown. Tourette, huh? Maybe next time HBW starts yelling at me I can tell her that they have medication for that.
Summer — I think that no matter what color Wet & Wild lipstick one buys, by the end of the day it’s all Carnage Red.
Lara — Most of the homeless people here are very nice. I’ve actually gotten to be friends with some of them. However, there are some like HBW who really liven the place up. I have no idea what’s up with Shrub.
O.G. — HAHAHAHAH! I forgot about that one! Now I’m going to have to scour youtube to find that episode.
flurrious — I know! All eyes were not on the crazy woman but on my hair! And her hair was crazier than mine. Maybe I’ll point that out the next time I see her.
April — Is it wrong that the memory of his tears made me smile for the rest of the day?
Crissy — When I first moved to NYC encounters like this would have freaked me out and I would’ve called home crying. Now I just blog about them and talk about people behind their backs. It’s cathartic.
that’s the trouble with life in the country, no one to tell me when I’m frizzy.
well, last time we had lunch i did notice a bit of a stench...no i didn’t i just lied. sorry. seriously though, are you sure we live in the same city? i realize it’s different boroughs but it’s not like i’m in staten island or something. maybe i need to get out more. i’m just surrounded by hipsters and tacky euro club kids.
Wow. Just wow. I would look for a new Starbucks. 
I have frizzy hair too. I feel your pain.
And people say LA is strange…
But the most important unanswered question in this post is: when should I be expecting my care package?
The common obscenities are far less offensive because they could be applied to anyone. But frizzy...now that’s below the belt. I wonder what she would’ve said if you pulled your reversed “that’s the nicest compliment” psychology on her. I think you should make it your new mission to bring mean spirited homeless people to tears as often as possible.
So there is this guy who I have been calling a simple CF on the blog, but now I want to call him Mr. Twatwaffle. In my mind he will always be from now on......
I don’t know what’s going on down there on your end of town but thank you for housing the crazies out so they don’t bother to head up to my neighborhood 
This kind of thing is why I can’t live in the city. It would make me cry on a regular basis.
No! You must keep going to crazytown. Some people have to PAY for that advice! You DON’T pay and you get it!
There’s a Starbucks next to the building where I work. In between my building and the Starbucks is a parking garage.
Today, I saw a wellish-dressed man sitting at one of the outdoor tables - full Starbucks meal on the table in front of him (which couldn’t have been cheap) carrying on a very animated conversation with the parking structure sign.
I even checked for a bluetooth.
Maybe he commented on someone’s taste in shoes and they sprung for a $14 coffee? 
These are the things that make city living the greatest. I love going into the city for these very things. Country folk can’t ever experience these type of things.
I bet there is a hobotown nearby. Where I used to live, there was a ‘tent city’ in the woods near my house. There was an abundance of crazies in that part of town, all rambling by on their way home, spewing insults and tobacco juice as they go.
rosie — If you post a picture of yourself every morning, I promise to always be honest with you and tell you if you are frizzy.
blakspring — I’ll take my crazy folk over your hipsters and euro club kids any day. And I don’t think that this craziness is city wide, I think that somehow, I bring the crazies with me.
Allie — Frizzy-haired girls unite!
GeekHiker — You didn’t get it yet?
Mel Heth — I don’t think it would’ve worked with HBW. She would’ve started dissing my clothes next.
Kori — Be daring! Be rebellious! Call him a twatwaffle on your blog!
stealthnerd — The next time I see HBW or Shrub I’m going to give them a metrocard and a map to your house.
k8 — And then someone would be blogging about the crazy woman they see crying all the time.
Ree — You are so right. People say living in the city is expensive but when you get free advice like this, it makes up for the gabillon dollars in rent we pay every month.
MTAE — I’ve lived in the country. Believe me, the country has its own brand of crazy.
Prosy — Hi Prosy! Thanks for stopping by. There isn’t a hobotown nearby but we do have a lot of recently unemployed financial people. Instead of tobacco juice, they spout fraudulent stock tips and investment advice. I prefer HBW and Shrub.
Wait - I DID just come up with a MASTER plan! And I thought those people were insane........... Think I can do that at school?????
Oh… did I miss your blog! My mother can’t get over the fact that we don’t have the “tip” culture out here in MI.
BTW… I AM coming to NYC to have time for MYSELF and to meet people and such. I was a horrid correspondent because I could never figure out my mom’s needs ahead of time on the previous NYC visits. So… I’ll let you know for REAL when I next come in. It’s just been crazy.
I don’t live in Crazytown, I live in Crazylife.
Hope you’ve had a good month!
A couple of things....first...the shrub. Have you SEEN the razor commercial on the teevee? It’s a personal razor.....one for the *whisper* bikini area. (wink wink)
The shrubery in the commercial changes from bushy and messy to trimmed into different shapes. yes. shapes.
So your kleenex bearing shrub reminds me of that commercial.
Secondly---we don’t have many crazies around. But the ones we do have are well known all around town. Like the bejeweled smelly man that wears huge pendants and a leisure suit and rides a moped.
Then the guy (it actually may be the same dude....I can’t be certain) that walks everywhere in the summer with his shirt slung over his shoulder, and his ample belly drooping dangerously near the ground. Or the homeless guy that has his dog with him everywhere he goes. Except the dog seems to change....frequently. What happens to the OLD dogs? it worries me.
Wew! For some reason, maybe because I’m a dumbass, I had a rough time finding your blog. Please excuse my tardiness.
I too have the frizzy hair. But when anyone calls it that, they are liable to get a knee to the groin. Honestly, that is the meanest thing you can say to a gal with curly hair. You’re hilarious. I’m coming back. Take that as a threat.
Jules — Yes, you can do it in school. I think it would be funny! And when you are looking for another job, we’ll just laugh and laugh at those sticks in the mud.
Jen of a2eatwrite — Hey, woman! I missed you around here! Can’t wait to see you. Bring tips.
Shelly — Oh, I was so hoping that the “and rides a . . .” was going to end with “camel.” For some reason, I think a bejeweled smelly man in a leisure suit riding a camel would be so cool.
steenky bee — So glad you found me! It’s destiny. You are “steenky” and frizzy. I love you.
OMG- this is one of the fucking funniest posts I’ve ever read. The frizzy thing nearly floored me. I have friends with frizzy hair and yes, that is possibly the most upsetting thing you can say to them. Call them an MF, please they really would prefer it. this was priceless
Jessica — Did you just say that you have friends with FRIZZY hair?! No, no, nononononono. You have friends with curly hair, hair with personality, wavy hair, hair issues, rebellious hair. All those terms are acceptable. Or, for an alternative, as you correctly stated, call us motherfuckers.
Wow- way to go with the response! And I can’t believe the post office hasn’t done something about Hunch-Back Woman.
Also, I’m sure your frizzy hair is beeeeeaaauuuutiful!
LOVE the extra customer service at the post office! I used to have big city vibes- knew how to avoid the nutbags, er TWATWAFFLES (heh) how to talk to them, but I might need lessons, should I ever venture back to crazytown, on how NOT to incur the wrath of such people and subsequent volley of me-specific insults (skinny! dumb hair!). ‘Course life is SO much more interesting with these kinds of charming (yet relatively harmless) interactions, eh?
And that’s why I could never live in NYC. Call me provincial...but mostly call me chicken.
Reagan — I’m sure they’ve sent someone out to ask her to leave but she keeps coming back. It’s a money-making venture for her.
O’Mama — Life is definitely more interesting and no matter where I live, big city, small town, rural outpost on the tundra, I’m sure I would encounter people like this on a daily basis.
Here In Franklin — Believe me, when I first moved to NYC I was a keep my head down, avoid eye-contact type of person. Fifteen years of living here have taught me a thing or two.
I wanted to drop by again to say that, in fact, I love you too. Also? Thank you for the comment love over at Sego Lily for my post. I appreciate you spreading the word for me there. I owe you!