Written by jessica w

Tuesday, 27 December 2011


The story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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I have a very dear friend who attracts a particular type of spices that should only be referred to as Bat Shit Crazy, BSCs. I will take on the challenge of this particular revolution, just please jump on the band wagon so I don't seem…. I think you get it. Once we are all secured in this vessel, we need to let the scientific community in on this new idea, if only for the purpose of identifying them immediately . This would allow the unsuspecting victim to avoid that particular fate. Since currently the victim is the most rational and logical person I have ever known, I really feel that science should afford her the luxury of avoiding the all too frequent visit to a place that this girl has no business being in, furnished by another BSC. There is no way you can deny my poor friend the right of a higher evolved classifying system. Side Bar- I do think we should also work on identifying and removing them from the general population since clearly they are not up for the task of, well anything really, other than providing a very entertaining visual image that gets old after the fifth time he follows you home. Are we there yet?

As I am sure you know, my friend and I live in NYC. Due to the toxicity of the city and the sheer volume of people, we are bombarded with a higher amount of BSCs. Though our collective harrowing experiences, we are able to identify them immediately. Not every girl is so lucky so I am going to give you some identifying characteristics which are particular to this species so that you can extract yourself from what can only be compared to the feeling of being trapped in the trunk of a car driven by a 9 year old. You don't know what will happen, and not in the oh its so exciting nausea you are feeling . Its more of the, ok I give up on this life, while you try to understand how a 9 year old managed to get you into a trunk kind of butterflies. Yes- this also happens that fast.

Hi only needs to be said one time per evening. One word, two letters. There is no only one meaning and this is an event that only happens once an evening. Hi is not a "filler" word. I understand that to a BSC it may be a better option to keep saying the simplest of words, whose meaning is never confused, since their mind is occupied with thoughts of tie-dying your couch or stapling your toilet paper together, but this does not mean we have to hear those two letters on a loop. Thus, by the second Hi (yes, it can be interchanged for hello, be alert, and we will be making the final decision on the hand wave in the council meeting tomorrow, so stand by) is halfway out of his mouth run or grab the pepper spray because shit is about to get real. Oh- just to add, should he need to continue announcing is presence and then leaving, this clearly means he knows you don't want him around, yet he still comes back. Why? Because he is BAT SHIT CRAZY

37 is the age where the words "I just don't want a relationship" become "I am BSC. RUN or I may say hello to you a few more times today." There is one exception to the rule. If this "yet to be unidentified being" can provide documentation that they were in a relationship for no less than 18 consecutive months (yes, they must all link together-Liner- not puzzle) they have a 4 month grace period. The documentation is key here because without it, you would only be able to rely on the Hi factor and he may be feeling introspective that evening. Should they not have documentation, you should pack up your belongings and immediately vacate the premises. Why? Because he is BAT SHIT CRAZY

They do not travel alone. This is a rough world to navigate with a sound mind. I cant even imagine what it would be like to see the world in cartoon form like the BSCs do. I guarantee they will always have a seeing eye dog in the form of a girlfriend (I am frequently a victim of that and I vow to no longer help the BSC navigate to the nearest female he can greet) or a fellow BSC. You can always notice the girlfriend. She walks in happy, but after hours of drowning her sorrows alone in her apple-tini while her accompanying BSC is spewing crazy at us, her mood joins that of the sour drink and she leaves. There is a rare event that she leaves the BSC at the bar interacting with people, and only to call him about 30 times on the way home to bitch, which then makes a little more BSC ooze out of his probably clogged pores. Really, this is not good for anyone. So should you be the girl who is responsible for guiding him to a public location, be responsible and leave him with you. Wait….. New rule. Shock collars. If you see a BSC and his lady friend, hand her the dog shock collar that you will surely be running out and purchasing as soon as you finish reading all of this. This is a rare win for you and the girlfriend. She can shock him when he wanders too far away, thus finally having any sort of power. You are free to do anything you want since you aren't waiting for the BSC to return for the 8th Houdini act or have to wait for the relationship documentation to be furnished. Unlike the girlfriend, the 2nd BSC may difficult to identify. Trust me, there will be another one should you not see a lonely girl, most likely crying, alone with a small remote in her hand wondering where she went wrong . I still wonder why they choose to go out in public when they can have a lovely evening at home shaking hands and not dating anyone. Oh right. Its because they are BAT SHIT CRAZY

This will be my stopping point since I do not want you to go into information overload and forget any of this. There is more to the BSC, but these are the most prevalent indicators of what you are in fact dealing with. Just to quickly cycle back to the bandwagon, please let your friends know about the BSC so we can all go at once to the science lab. I think we would start to look a little BSC if we just showed up at random times in varying numbers.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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Topics: dating

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