Meth Is A Helluva Drug

Happy Happy New Year Peoples.

Well. It's 2015. A new year, and I'm probably supposed to have some new outlook on life. Of course, that's a big bucket of horseshit - Doozy doesn't do that new age crap. So far, this year is just like last year.

Today's Doozy is another fallout Dooze from good ol' Hipster Pinocchio, that rascal. Yeah, there were a few months there where I just didn't make good decisions before getting out of the dating business for awhile. As my dear friend Paige said, Hipster was the one who broke me. Just took me some time to realize that, then longer to stop tossing my shit and fix myself.

Still. Fuck oh fuck.
THIS
WAS
NUTS
You're going to think I am making this up, but I'm not. Crazy men like this are really out there, and they truly think that they're good catches. I dunno, I'm probably being way too harsh, maybe elitist; but today's Doozy was someone so out there that even I was taken aback. 
No shit. Guys like this exist and not just in Vampire movies.

THE TALE OF CHAD KROGER...NOT THE NICKELBACK GUY..THE OTHER ONE.

Oh yes heartbreak.
You massive massive fucker.
So Chad Kroger happened because Pinocchio happened and I was messed in the head for quite awhile. But like I said with that weird Electric Truck guy, at the time I was soooo sure that I was going to be this strong, independent woman and "ain't no man going to keep me down".
BULLSHIT
Inside I was a damn melting snow cone, ya know.

So. Chad Kroger.
I was back on some site...let's say Plenty of Mullets-I-Mean-Fish, and just rolling through the profiles like crazy. When up popped Chad Kroger. He had a rather sappy profile, if not light on the wording. Chad Kroger talked about wanting to find "real love" whatever the fuck that meant to him. He talked about being a single father, owning his own construction business and how hard it was to meet "quality women" (should have been my first flag) and in his pictures, Chad had an aging rocker-behind-the-drum-kit look going for him.

I've always had a thing for musicians. I mean, Chad Kroger said he played drums.

DRUMS FOR FUCK SAKES.

And that should have been my second flag. Musicians have historically treated me like epic asswipes. I should have known better by then.

Oh ho ho. Just you wait. The bad decisions were just beginning.

JUST
BEGINNING
PEOPLE

Chad Kroger and I began emailing, then texting and in a short time Chad invited me out on a date. Fine, good. No problem.

BUT WAIT.
THERE'S MORE.

1. Chad lived across the border in the next state over. Not a huge deal, our city is near state lines. Sure, I'd been on plenty of dates "across the border loco". No probs.
Except that Chad Kroger lived 45 fucking minutes over the border, down the river in BFE. Maybe in a van, down by the river...hard to tell from texts.
Um.
Red Flag number three.

2. Chad Kroger said that he couldn't do anything on the weekends because he "had gigs".
Um.

3..Chad Kroger apparently didn't, couldn't or wouldn't find a babysitter for baby Kroger during the week, so would I be willing to meet him at his house? 
Across the border.
In Bum Fuck Egypt.
Um.
Red Flag number four.

See, here's the thing. When I'm in my right mind (like these days), I would stop talking to someone like Chad Kroger after red flag number one, maybe number two...depending on what the flags are. Maybe someone like Chad would get to a first date, then I would see the crazy and peace out.
But to get to red flag number four BEFORE THE FIRST DATE and not be all "yeah, thanks but I have to shave my cat..." shows, in hindsight, just how bad my decision making was.

BUT WAIT!
THERE'S MORE.
FUCK RIGHT - THERE'S MORE!

So, me in my "I'm a strong, independent woman! I'm not heartbroken! I'm not letting no man keep me down" delusion went "SURE! I'll drive to an unknown town to meet a stranger because you say you play the drums and have shaggy hair and you say you are looking for true love? What could possibly be janky about this?"
Nahhh.

For fuck sakes Doozy.

BUT WAIT!
THERE'S MORE.
FOR THOR SAKES.

Yeah. Luckily it was summer and the nights were really long, so I didn't have to worry about finding Chad Kroger's place in the dark. And the town he lived in was admittedly cute and charming looking, even if there were probably sex dungeons in the bottom of all the stores on Main Street. Whatevs. The Midwest is a freaky place peoples. It's all the corn syrup.

Anyhoozles.

Chad Kroger called me while I was on the road and asked what I wanted to drink.
"Drink?"
"Yeah. I'll grab you a cocktail."
Um.
Red Flag number five.
"Uh..I'm not a big drinker."
"Come on. My treat. I'm getting something, so I'll surprise you."
Right.

Chad Kroger also told me where to meet him and I could then follow him to his house - just on the other side of the railroad tracks, right off the state road.
Seriously?
The delusion was slowly starting to fade there. I know right? Like, how the hell did it take me THAT long? 
Bad decisions people.

Anyhoozles

I crossed the railroad tracks and there was Chad Kroger standing next to his big black truck with construction beds in the back. I stopped my car and got out to greet him. 
Okay.
At least Chad Kroger looked somewhat like his pictures, albeit older and rattier than what was online.
In fact, the phrase "rode hard and put away wet" immediately sprung to mind, because I can be an awful human sometimes; but I couldn't help it.
CHAD KROGER HAD FROSTED FUCKING HAIR.
Not even kidding peoples.
Chad Kroger had bleached and frosted tips in his late 80's, shag haircut.
Red Flag number six

(Chad Kroger wasn't nearly as cute as old Duran Duran)

We said our hellos as Chad Kroger salaciously looked me up and down like a rocket pop on a hot summer's day then he reached into his truck and pulled out a red plastic solo cup and handed it to me.
"Here!" He smiled proudly. "Rum and coke. You strike me as a rum and coke girl (I'm not). I got it from the tavern down the road!"
"Uh...thanks?"
Open container of alcohol in your truck. In a red solo cup?
Right.
Um.
Red Flag number seven

I could see Baby Kroger strapped into his car seat in the back of the truck too. For fuck sakes.
"I'll just have some at your house. Shall we go?" I put the cup in my cup holder and got into my car. The feeling of "WTH DOOZY?" suddenly washed over me.

BUT WAIT!
THERE'S MORE.
Goddammit.

Anyhoozles, I followed Chad Kroger to his house (and threw the drink out my window on the way) - which turned out to be a single wide mobile home with a room built onto the front and giant newly built garage in back. 
Okay.
I know people who live in mobile homes and some of them are nicer than my apartment, so I wasn't going to judge.
However.
As Chad Kroger unstrapped Baby Kroger from his car seat and walked me inside, I quickly discovered that his house wasn't a nice place at all.
HOLY
SHITBALLS BATMAN.

Chad Kroger did indeed have a drum kit in the front room he'd built onto his trailer. However, littering the floor were cigarette butts, empty wine and beer bottles and crumpled McDonald's bags.
Um.
Red Flag number eight.

Chad Kroger showed me into his house and I was..speechless. Now. Most people who know me recognize that I'm not easily rendered speechless, especially by a man. Words come easily to me.
But.
Well.

Words cannot quite describe what was in front of me. Okay look. I do not live in a swag house. Far from it. I am not, nor do I expect to live in the lap of luxury. As if. I'm a pretty simple girl.
But, but....but..
Chad Kroger's mobile home wasn't large, obviously; but it was very dark. The walls were covered with that fake dark "wood" paneling, much of which was peeling off from humidity. The floors were much the same way - the dark fake wood linoleum. Off to the right was a dark blue, worn down sofa with a large hold in the middle - so the stuffing was falling out, loads of baby toys and a huge TV in the corner. The one small dining room table was piled high with bills, papers, magazine, kids books and junk. The vinyl seats on the dining room chairs were torn and faded. The kitchen was dark, outdated and dirty.

Now I've never been in a crack house, but this was what I always envisioned one looking like. Only...ya know...with crack.

Oh, and did the mention spaz dog?
Chad Kroger had a spaz dog. No, he didn't sniff my personal radiator or anything, but the fucker kept jumping on me. Then Chad Kroger would yell at him, then Baby Kroger would start screaming.

Bet this crowd was a blast at family reunions.

"Do you have a bathroom I can use please?" I asked.
"Sure, down the hall on the left. I'll start dinner." Chad Kroger replied. "And watch out for the hole in the hallway floor."
Turned out that there was a foot wide HOLE in Chad Kroger's floor that he'd covered with a piece of plywood. Didn't nail it down or anything, it was just laying over the hole and sliding around.
Awesome.
So, at least the plumbing worked. There was that. But the bathroom window was too small for me to crawl through.
Goddammit.

 When I got back from contemplating how I was going to end this date of doom, the dog and Baby Kroger were locked behind a three foot high baby gate. The dog was jumping up and down against the gate and Baby Kroger was throwing his toys around the living room; as in just chucking them at the TV like a shot putt thrower. Chad Kroger seemed oblivious to all this as his was heating up Stouffer's Pasta Primavera for us.

Trying desperately to save whatever shreds of this date there were, I started pulling any small talk out of my repertoire I had.

Then Baby Kroger whipped off his diaper and took a leak on the living room floor. Totally stood there looking at us and whizzing all over like an old timey water wiggle.

By now my mouth was just gaping open and closed like a freshly caught  trout. The  dog was still jumping up and down against the baby gate, and now Chad Kroger was screaming at Baby Kroger. Once Chad Kroger started screaming then of course spaz dog started barking and Baby Kroger started crying.

"This is my life." Chad Kroger laughed half-heartedly while he was calming the baby and dog down. I edged closer to the door, picking up my purse on the way.
"I can see that. I'm just going to go and let you get things calmed down here. Nice to meet you."
"Fuck! You too?!"
By then I was outtie.
Right
No
Dude

I...
I...
I...
Well, I had a long drive home to digest what I had witnessed and what I gotten myself into. And here's the best part, Chad Kroger continued texting me for a week or two afterward, like that...dismal diarrhea of a whatever the fuck you want to call it we had wasn't bad.

 Nope. Chad Kroger just kept chatting me up until I had to go all "RELEASE THE KRAKEN" on his ass and tell him to screw off and that I had wiped smarter things off my shoes than him.
That was fun.

To this day, I still wonder if that huge garage in back of Chad Kroger's house was really a meth lab.
Cuz meth is a helluva drug, ya know.