As of this week, I have determined that I am 100%, undeniably, without-a-doubt crazy.

And I don't mean psycho crazy like when some girl decides that the best solution to getting some guy to talk to her is to call his phone 13 times within a 10 minute time frame, in hope that "if I call his phone just one more time, maybe he'll answer" kind of crazy.

And I don't mean stupid crazy like eating a baggy full of mushrooms that one of your friends found in some cow pasture in some field in Colorado. And even though you know that those mushrooms were growing in a big, steaming, pile of cow dookie, and that the said mushrooms may or may not possibly kill you if you eat them, you decide that if you just throw them all on a slice of pizza, and then eat them, all will be ok.

And I don't mean adventurous crazy, like waking up one morning at 6am, calling 10 of your closest friends, and convincing them all that day that they should all go skydiving with you because "I think it might be kinda fun to jump out of a perfectly good airplane for no reason at all."

And I also don't mean drunk crazy, like when you line up 4 shots of Patron in front of you, take them all back to back and then proceed to do the following activities all in one night:

1.) Go line dancing
2.) Dance on a bar
3.) Make-out with someone from work
4.) Drunk call everyone in your cell phone, including your parents
4.) Come home and decide that you need a hair cut RIGHT NOW and proceed to cut off 7 inches of your own hair (unevenly, I might add) which you have been painstakingly growing out for 2 years.

Not that I have ever done, experienced, performed any of the above listed psycho, stupid, adventurous, drunk crazy activities. No, not me. Never. I'm a perfect little angel. I've just heard stories.

The kind of crazy to which I am referring involves strait-jackets, padded-walls, and heavy medication. I believe that I have officially become insane.

And I'll give you 2 reasons for the sudden onset of my complete, mental breakdown:
1.) My Dad
2.) My Mom

They are in my house as I type this, snooping through my stuff, moving things around, asking me too many questions, and harassing my poor, unsuspecting friends.

I now remember why I live exactly live 947.12 miles away from them. (A 15 hour and 21 minute drive.)

Ironically, I wouldn't trade them in for the world. (Against the wishes of the voices in my head.) And that is why I think that I am certifiably crazy.

Labels: Parental Units