Crazy belongs in a high-security psych ward! Yesterday, I thought she was acting almost normal. I even thought that maybe I was the one being melodramatic and too judgmental... until about 4:15am, when I was jolted out of my slumber by her loud-ass, annoying voice. She was not alone, of course. In fact, she managed to one-up herself and brought a new-even-more-crazy-thug drug-dealer into our apartment. I politely asked them, "Keep it down please. It's after 4am." Thug replied, "You wana smoke some pot?" I declined and went back to my room, annoyed as fuck.

I heard the door close. Crazy left, leaving me alone in the apartment with this guy! Then I heard some movement, loud, fast footsteps, and the door slamming. Wtf was that?! I thought as I tried to return to my dream.  Minutes later, Crazy re-entered the apartment and called out for Thug (with no reply). She then came into my room (at 4:30am while I'm trying to sleep) to ask me if I'd seen him. I told her that I heard someone leave abruptly. (Can you blame the guy?!)

She proceeded to tell me that "Something wasn't right," and compared herself to Sharon Stone in Casino. She showed me her phone and told me that she took the battery out so she couldn't be traced. She also believed that he planted drugs in the apartment before he left. And she said she feared for her life. I told her to never bring thugs back to the apartment again and went to my room.

I couldn't sleep because now I was scared! Was Thug gona come back with a gun, kill Crazy, and me- the innocent witness? Fuck this shit! I thought. The worst part is that my other roommate, Cool Guy, wasn't here this weekend, or last night. So he has no idea that Crazy is insane!

Anyway, I couldn't sleep so I came out into the common area where Crazy was on my computer checking my history, e-mails and facebook account because she wanted to see if we were being "watched" or if I were really an undercover officer who was building a case against her in a secret sting operation. (Pause to absorb this psychotic accusation.) "Just tell me if you are, so I know," she demanded. I laughed.

She started speaking in her native language of Crazytalk, not making any sense. "We should make six eggs for breakfast... because there's three of us... don't you think?" she said as she winked at me to inform me that she was speaking in some sort of code because we were bugged and people were listening to our conversation.  I just looked at her for a few seconds, grabbed my computer, and went to my room- in complete f-ing disbelief. Before I went to bed, she checked my closet to make sure no one was hiding in there. Yeah, seriously. 

She kept saying "I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!" as she checked every other closet in the apartment. She admitted to doing cocaine, but "not enough to go crazy!" Then she switched to Crazytalk and spoke in code, "I mean I had a Diet Coke at dinner, but just a few sips." She winked again. I told her to lay off the Diet Coke and headed to my room, where I lay bug-eyed and restless.