Do They Sell Man Muzzles?

I finally meet Electric Youth for drinks. Contrary to his plea to go bowling, I simply couldn't risk committing to more than an hour, should he be as crazy as my gut was screaming he was.

Well, hats off to my instinct. Because EY's mentally insane. Imagine taking a hyperactive person, caging them for 48 hours in a dark room, and then meeting them for drinks. And he asked me so many questions, I felt like I was on 60 Minutes. It wasn't even in a conversation-style. He'd ask, I'd answer, then he'd totally ignore my reply and ramble on about his personal view, and then ask the next question. Mind you, he'd say the last word or two of each sentence reeeeaaalllyyyy sllloooowwwllyyy.

"Do you believe Johnnn Edwaaards? No, not the senator, the psychic medium on TeeeVeee."

"What's your opinion on reeliigionn?"

"What's your favorite Depeche Mode sonnng?"

"How do you feel about dating an aaaaaaathiest?"

After my second beer, I gave him a Catholic hug (butt out so our hips don't touch) and went in search of complete and total siiilennnce.