One week ago today, Crazy moved out of the apartment- and out of my life! This has been my happiest, most productive week in the city since my move. I reorganized the apartment, rewrote my resume, got a casting director gig, went to the dance studio, 2 yoga classes, 3 jogs, 2 trips to the gym, and managed to keep a busy social life as well. Phew! I'm exhausted just writing about it! 

Although this week has been amazing, my blogging material is extremely dry without Crazy stories. Luckily, I came across some lost notes that I took while Crazy was still around. I would like to take this opportunity to share some of these stories with you. We'll call these mini stories "Crazy-isms".

Crazyism #1: Crazy said that she wanted to get a bath mat that she had seen in a local store. Rather than paying the whopping $9 to buy it, she came to the apartment empty-handed and suggested that we each pitch in $3 so she could go back to the store and get it. And I'm the Jew! (I was tempted to tell her that I almost bought toilet paper, but wanted to get $1.45 from her and Cool Guy first.)

Crazyism #2: Crazy told me how proud she was that she had separated herself from her ex-husband and his "coke-head loser" friends. I opted not to point out the obvious. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and just nodded my head, "You go, girl! Good for you!"

Crazyism #3: During the Battery in Battery Park incident, Crazy repeated, "I shit my pants, I shit my pants, I shit my pants. I'm not kidding. I just shit my pants!" She was mumbling this under her breath, but loud enough for me and at least one of the officers to hear. I know this because an officer asked me if she had been doing any drugs. He explained his suspicion arose from Crazy's comments regarding her lack of bowel control- which the officer explained is a side effect of certain drugs. What a shitty night for Crazy!

Crazyism #4: After reading my blog, Crazy found it necessary to defend herself at least twice a day. She seemed particularly upset by Crazy Has Saggy Boobs. She seemed shocked by the accusation and even claimed that she had doctors ask if her breasts were real. Real saggy, I thought to myself. She defended her boobs for at least 10 minutes before I pretended that I had something better to do than discuss her deflated fun bags.

Crazyism #5: Crazy thinks she's an actress/model/writer/singer, despite the fact that she has no talent, training, or experience in any of these fields. She also failed to go on a single audition in the entire time that she lived here. A few times, I had the misfortune of overhearing her sing in her room. She sounded like an 80-year-old, chain-smoking gorilla with the range and talent of Biz Markie. I also came across what I believe to be song lyrics that could have been better written by a pot-smoking 6-year-old. Good luck with the career, Crazy!

Oy!