Who's Crazier? Seriously.

Warning: this posting has nothing to do with resumes. NOTHING.

Will you enjoy it anyway?
You bet your sweet bippy you will!

So! On with the show. 

I live in a moderately sized town in Southern California 

called Simi Valley. 

Nestled approximately 1/2 way between Santa Barbara and Los Angeles, (well not really, but that's for you out of towners that usually have no clue where anything but those 2 cities are..), Simi boasts a population of approximately 126,874 people (give or take a few babies that were born in the time it took me to compose this blog piece), and used to be ranked as one of the top safest cities in the country.

Here's a lovely map for no real further clarification purposes:

See? Between Santa Barbara & LA. The green hokey map don't lie.

I grew up in Simi, in what is affectionately called "The Texas Tract" around these here parts. (Yeah, it's just a bunch of streets named after cities from Texas. Shocking I know).

Just like any hometown, bad things happen here:

Something very sad/bad happened here.

Also, ironically being featured today on Dr. Phil... Simi's massive heroin problem:

 http://www.drphil.com/shows/show/1980, 

Why yes, this qualifies as another bad thing... yikes-a-hooty!

Some good things happen here too though:

Ahhh the sweet smiles of newly wedded bliss. Just try to remember how much joy you were feeling at this moment, in the rolling hills of Simi Valley, the next time you glance up and see your Handsome Groom sitting on the sofa scratching his beer belly and playing video games, oh Beautiful Bride.

Simi Valley is also known for a few things. 

We house the ever cool (regardless your political affiliation yo!) Ronald Reagan Library:

...which houses Air Force One:

which is truly breathtaking by the way

and also uber cool because you get to tour INSIDE it as well. I assure you, y'all would be shocked as to how small the actual insides are.

We were the chosen venue for the court case of Rodney King...

And no, the conservative folk of our town were NOT happy about this going on.
Like at ALL. I remember it well.

we have 1 strip club named "Snooky's" 

the whole town knows about...

I think a better name for a strip club would be "Plan B"... as in "picking up a real woman to get naked for you is Plan A... if that fails, on to Plan B." 

and bad fires... don't get me started about the bad fires 

we get out here...

Yes, this melted sign is real people. Totally NOT photo-shopped. 

But as of one fateful day back in October of 2011, Simi suddenly had something new to be known for: 

Minnie the Missing Chihuahua.

So this is Minnie, Pre-Coyote-Dung-Stage:

"Awww she'z so cute!" I know right?

I've blogged BITCHED AND MOANED about Minnie before. I scream about it on the Book of Face so much, my friends have come to specifically think of me for 3 topics: Sailing, Resumes, and Minnie the Missing Chihuahua. 

I'm not kidding. People post pics of the sign holders on my wall all the time to complain, and if they see me in person they'll say "Oh that's funny! I just saw one of those "Minnie's Missing" sign trucks go by and thought of you!"

Gah.

Don't believe me? Here are some pics I've snapped, my friends have snapped, and random strangers have snapped and sent to me:

This is one of the original signs from back in the day.

And another.

And this is the latest and greatest one... held everyday by the
 used-to-be Domino's Pizza sign holder Hispanic dude with a gnarly mustache
that waves his hand at you funny as you drive by, I suppose to get your attention?
As if we didn't actually KNOW about this missing dog? Pull-lease.

My original blogging bitch session is here in case you're new to my site.

The gist of the story is this:

Some small 3 pound coyote snick-snack, overly loved by her rich husband-wife-twat-waffle owners disappeared on 10/9/11. 

This husband-wife-say the new word with me my little chickees: ~TWAT-WAFFLE~ owners are doctors. 

(Whom I will never freakin' EVER support by the way. Even if I were dying and they had the only known cure to whatever I was dying from. Even IF.)

The minute she went missing, the rich and wasteful doctors kicked their lunacy into high gear and bombarded the entire town with hundreds of fliers in bags on driveways with rocks to hold them down, stuck signs to poles lining the entire west end of the valley, put sign holders on multiple corners at all hours of the day, and talked people into driving their vehicles around with Tyrannosaurus Rex sized banners and door magnets bearing Minnie's pic.

 It's Fudiculous. With a capital "F".

This whole entire epidemic has become a running joke in Simi. 

Should you ever come here to visit (although I don't necessarily know WHY you would, except to score some heroin now that you've seen Dr. Phil's show) and nothing readily comes to mind to speak to the natives about, just ask:

"So! What do you think REALLY happened to Minnie?" 

You'll get answers like "It's an elaborate hoax, it's Simi Valley's version of the Truman show" or "Coyote Dung!" etc. 

Whatever they say, they will IMMEDIATELY slam into gear and want to talk about it. Not one person I've talked to at grocery stores, gas stations, or retail shops (cuz yes, I'm a freak like that and will just talk to random strangers-don't judge) has even been *slightly* on the side of the nutcase owners, who've shelled out more money than the Gross National Product of Portugal to obsessively advertise for the lost, fur-laden cause. 

It's the most insane-in-the-membrane campaign. 

While I appreciate the opportunity for our local printers and sign makers and holders to make some money, 

SERI-FUCKING-OUSLY. PEOPLE.

Put the signs away, stop badgering the poor citizens of our city with your bullshit, and GET A GRIP.

Why yes, Bunny O'Rage, I share your hatred for Minnie's owners.

And so setting that case aside for a moment, let's examine another kind of cray-cray... exclusively relegated to Simi Valley.

Not as many people know about this particular freak show as he's on a side residential street on my path to work, in a neighborhood not many people dare to venture to. 

For FIVE YEARS I have driven by this anomaly of a man, who has the facial structure of Waldorf from the Muppets when he turns around to startle the passers by:

Yes, just like the dude on the right. Only with creepier eyes.

Are you ready for it?

Are you SURE?????

I'm not sure you are. 

Really, I'm not.

I think this is possibly a one-of-a-kind situation. 

For reals.

So I'm using all this blather to be a cliff hanger, is it working?

Oh alright, I guess you're as ready as you'll ever be.

I present to you, Crazy Dirt Boy:

This man walking poster child of mental illness piles, wets, rearranges, moves, constructs, dirt. And then he grows helpless, terror stricken plants in it. 

By the way, his legs aren't exceptionally short (he's actually quite tall), he was just DOWN IN A FUCKING HOLE he'd dug when I snapped this pic.

Here's another one for good measure:

WTF???

Let me just say these few things about this particular situation:

1. The amount of water he wastes is epic and tragic. I'm assuming he can't afford a better house simply because his water bills are astronomically high. That and he has no time for a job, cuz THIS shit fest is what he DOES.. which leads me to #2:

2. He's out there ALL DAY LONG. I'm talking from sun up to sun down. Think of the actual worthy projects that would benefit if somebody could just figure out how to *safely harness* that energy and effort. Mind blowing.

3. He needs help. I see him driving around and even ran into him (literally, turned around and bumped into him) at the gas station last year. 

Yes, it was shocking. 

Yes, he smelled of dirt and stench.

Yes, his face is scarier in person.

Yes, it took everything in me to remain calm and not run for my life.

But seriously, he's OUT DRIVING AROUND, like an everyday,  ho-hum Simi Valley Citizen. 

I used to work in a mental health outpatient facility and this dude would have been labeled a Defcon level 1 situation. How can we get him into a facility that can take care of him?

4. What must the backyard look like? Oh sweet baby Jebus. Just let that one sink in for a minute. Where do you think all that dirt came from? I'm supposing he's either stealing it from other neighbors' yards, OR he's getting it from the back yard. I'm betting there's an ACTUAL tunnel to China back there. Also? Dead bodies not resting in peace under constantly restructured mounds with terrified plants growing out of them.

5. Tell me people... does this situation not remind you of this?:

OMG! What if he watches Days of Our Lives too?  AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

So, in closing, I ask you, who's crazier my chickadees?

Minnie's owners?

Or Crazy Dirt Boy?

Maybe it's all the heroin. 

That's gotta be it.

Peace out my peeps!