The people I meet...

I went out to supper with a friend I haven't seen in about a year and while we were catching up, she asked if I had any good weirdo magnet stories for her.

It's no secret that if there is a weird person in the vicinity he or she (usually he) will feel an uncontrollable compulsion to tell me really personal information that I have no desire to hear. So I told her about the IRS guy. This guy wasn't weird in the TMI department, but the conversation was bizarre. You can' read the tale of weird here, if you like. (Scroll down to the bottom.)

I also told her about Crazy McCrazypants who I met last month at the car shop while I was waiting for my car, Squishy, to be fixed. My friend wanted to know why I hadn't blogged about this, yet. So, here it is.

Me: (sitting in the auto shop, frantically stitching on my nephew's Christmas stocking.)

Guy: (stands directly in front of me) What are you making?

Me: A stocking.

Guy: For who?

Me: My nephew.

Guy: Oh. Is that the real color of your eyes?

Me: Uhhhh... Yes. (For the record, they're blue. Nothing special...not violet, not indigo, not cerulean, just blue.)

Guy: (staring in a creepily intense way) They're very pretty.

Me: Ummm...thanks. (looking around for another place to move, but all the chairs are taken except the one next to me. Guess who sits down.)

Guy: Do you watch Dancing with the Stars?

Me: (Fwuh?) No. I'm not really big into reality TV.

Guy: My wife loves it. She's obsessed. She tapes them and watches them over and over.

Me: Oh...how...nice?

Guy: She wants me to take dancing classes with her, but I can't. I've got Crohn's Disease and it hurts to dance, plus I don't really like it. Really, she just likes that Donny Osmond a lot. He seems like a nice fellow, but you can never tell about those Hollywood types, can you?

Me: No...you never can. They're a wily bunch.

Guy: See? That's what I tell my wife, but she still wants to meet Donny and go on the show, but you have to be a star to do that. I think that's why she wants to take those dancing classes. (This degenerates into an thirty minute long monologue on Crohn's Disease and all of the rest of his health problems. Then he pulls out a newspaper and I foolishly think I'll be spared more conversation. How very, very wrong I was.)

Guy: (pointing at a picture of two young women on the back page.) Those Iranians are going to put these two girls to death. Do you know what their crime is?

Me: (knowing where this is going) I'm gonna go with Christianity.

Guy: Exactly. They want to kill them because they believe in Jesus. What do you think of that?

Me: I think all people should be free to worship however they choose.

Guy: (stares at me for a minute and then pulls out a religious tract.) Can I interest you in the Good Word?

Me: No thank you.

Guys: (mutters about the Taliban, Osama Bin Laden, the one true god, infidels and so on for several minutes.)

Guy: ( pulls a picture of the Mackinac Bridge out of the tract and jabs at it with his finger.) Have you ever been here?

Me: Yes, I have.

Guy: What did you think?

Me: Well, the bridge scares me, but I love the U.P. (for you non-Michigan types, that's the Upper Peninsula - it's gorgeous.)

Guy: (looks at the front of his tract again and points at the mountain range on the front.) Do you know what that is?

Me: Looks like the Rocky Mountains.

Guy: (seems very pleased that I got the right answer) It sure is. Ever seen 'em in real life?

Me: I had a lovely view of them from a hotel window.

Guy: (looking wistful) John Denver sure did love them Rocky Mountains.

Me: I suppose he did. (Seriously, what the hell do you say to that?)

Guy: Do you think John Denver ever went to the U.P.?

Me: (ignores the dude behind the desk who's snickering) I...I don't know. Maybe?

Guy: I bet not. If he had, he surely would have written a song about it.

Me: Can't argue with that logic.

I can't remember where in the conversation it took place, but there was also a lengthy discourse on his grandmother and how she baked 514 sugar cookies one day. In case your wondering at the precise number, it was so every member of his high school marching band could have two.

Shortly after he determined that John Denver had never been to the Upper Peninsula, his car was ready. Before he left he reminded me to give God and Dancing with the Stars a chance. All I know is that if I ever see that maroon minivan in the parking lot of the auto shop, I'm going somewhere else!

So do people ever strike up bizarro conversations with you? My mom and sister have the same mutant ability - we're thinking genetic predisposition or family curse.