Hot Cup of Crazy

(Pictures above: Matt & I in-front of the "LOVE" sign in NYC. Tanya, Adam, Suzanne, and I in Chicago during Mondrian's Wedding Weekend. "The Gates" in Central Park Winter 2005)
I've had four different men cause me undue stress in the last five days: three of them where vagrants in my neighborhood, and the other one was my boss.
The first man was on the corner of 6th and Bleeker in the Village near my house. Matt and I were holding hands going to get a cupcake at Magnolia bakery. "Hey, man, give me some change." I have had many folks ask me for money before, but never demand it.
I said, "Sorry man." He said, "I wasn't talking to you ho."
Ho! Ho? Ho?!?! Wow. I would have turned around and cussed him out, but he had a crazy look in his eye, so I thought I would leave it be.
The other two men harassed me within a 24 hour period. One this past Saturday afternoon coming back from the gym. This man was older, homeless and sitting on the stoop of the corner grocery store asked me for change. I ignored him, trying to avoid eliciting another hate-laced, "I wasn't talking to you ho" response. But by ignoring this man I got an angry, "Whaddya too good for me bitch?"
I wiped around, "WHAT?!?!?"
"That's right, you heard me, you f*%king b*$ch! Why don't you go and suck a *(@)!"
"WHAT!?!?"
Now, listen, I know, NYC has it's stress and I know that people tell each other to go f&*k them selves all the time, but come on, I lived in Brooklyn for almost four years and I have never been harassed like this.
This morning alone I sat in the subway reading (flipping through) a really fantastic novel (Bazaar Magazine) and a man reached toward me with a pamphlet in his hand titled, "If you think it's hot here, try HELL."
He said, "I think you need this."
"No thank you" I said walking away from him.
"Do you not want to except Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?"
"Um, hmmm, I'm ok. Thanks." As I begin to walk away he said,
"No your NOT! Take the pamphlet b*tch."
What?!?!?
I told him, "That's not very Christian of you."

I don't know why I attract "the crazy," but I do.
I have always had (have) compassion for those less fortunate and those that are going through difficult times; I think it is easier to be compassionate to those folks, but what about those that act that way and have $18,000 worth of shoes and are the male version of Anna Wintour?
That would be my boss. He bangs on the desks like a child whining and all the while demanding phone numbers for his minute to minute phone appointments, for his car to be serviced, to schedule his weekly $600 haircuts, and his OCD behavior has made me realize this world is run by children, and not the good kind. Babies with short fuses. I am one the lucky ones as I am not his personal assistant, but a "colleague" (his word).
All of this has made realize that there is only one thing to do in this life: follow your dreams, and don't drink the (crazy) kool-aid.