I should've saw it coming.

After losing touch with Warren for about 4 years, I bumped into him on Catherine Street on a brisk May night. I hadn't seen him in the flesh since Billy's wedding, about 7-8 years ago. I didn't even recognize him...he flagged me down and gave me a little smile. Gone was his infamous boyish demeanor, replaced with a worn, bogged-down-by- society look. Our brief meeting felt poignant.

Warren was my buddy back in high school and we had a lot of fun together. Unfortunately, he refused to grow up and would continue to reminisce and live in the past. You'd always hear him talk about the good ol' days in high school, during the glory of the Volleyball championships, and guzzling over the love of his life.

The thing is, all of this took place a decade and a half ago. Throughout his 20's, he'd ramble about high school. Now that's he's in his 30's, he's yukking over the days that took place in college. So he's progressed just a tad bit.

Methinks that his refusal to move on with time and life, he couldn't hold down a decent job, a mature relationship, or even set goals for the future. After 9/11, he's been unemployed and has been dependent on government assistance. Yes, he's survivor of the heinous WTC attacks and narrowly escaped...but how long can you parade the town about it?

So he rings me up so "we" can talk. Two minutes into the conversation, I cursed myself for not having call waiting. He went on like an Energizer bunny, about his ideas, faults, friends, and whatever immature crap he could conjure at the moment. I walked over to my computer, turned on Yahoo! games, started playing Spellbound, and 'uh-huhed' him for over an hour.

He repeated the same thing the following week. And the week after that.

I had to tell him NOT to call after 11PM...us families go to bed early (yeah right!), plus, I have no interest in being his psychological dumping ground. His last drivel was based on the act of burning bridges, just to reclaim outstanding debts from his 'friends'. Oh, we're talking $20 here, another $120 over there, and so forth. In fact, one of his 'friends' had to call the cops on him for 'disrupting the peace'.

Oh goodness.

Next, we have my lovely friend, Ellen. A brilliant scholar with a bachelor's in Theater Arts, Masters in Religious Studies, and a would-be doctorate in Rabbinical Studies. Mind you, this was her 3rd attempt in obtaining a Masters degree as her previous institution would not approve her theory related to the inconsistencies found in the Old and New Testaments. After 2 failed attempts, she converted to Judaism from something. I lost track of her spiritual journeys.

I met her when I was a wee student back in CNR and it became apparent to me that geniuses have no sense when it comes to necessity or practicality. She was so talented - it was easy to find work with her impressive resume. Instead of doing what she did best, teaching, or hold down a decent job for that matter, she'd move in with jerks just so she'd have a roof over her head. Any jerk.

It's a wonder how she married her husband. 'Nuff said.

Rather than having lengthy intelligent discussions about Greek history, philosophy, or even linguistics, she'd incessantly drivel over the turmoils of her dysfunctional family, bureaucratic school administrations, her battle with Crohn's Disease, lawsuits, her status as being a disabled American, her husband, welfare, and unemployment. She fought every battle that came her way and could never understand why I pick and chose the ones I wanted to fight.

Her repetitive ranting would seriously put me over the edge and much like Warren's call, I never got a word in. Uh-huh. Unlike Warren, she was extremely repetitive, so we'd have the same comversation over and over, with no new progress being made to the issue at hand. It got up to the point where I would deliberately set Richard's pager off to end our conversation (by claiming that Richard needed to answer his pages). After 15 years, I've lost count with what Ellen was complaining about in her life. In fact, I no longer care and hope that she'd disappear in her own pile of dog doo because that's how self-absorbed she is.

Last year, Ellen had crossed the line with her abominably stupid confession. At some ungodly hour in the morning, she rang me up to apologize profusedly for "not believing what you said over the phone about how bad things were going at home and how I thought you were being overdramatic and exaggerating about the events after 9/11 and blah, blah, blah..."

Overdramatic? The ONE time when I finally have my say, a moment where I could use some moral support from a friend - she assumes that I'm talking out of my butthole. The phone call did not sit well with me and boy, I was MAD. It must've killed her to keep mouth shut for more than 15 minutes while I was summing up my misery. At that breaking point, I wanted to shove a dirty sock up her nose - as Hall & Oates once sang, "Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid".

Last but not least, we have...Grace Sr.

Yes, psychomom's back with a wackadoo vengeance. Although I've managed to avoid her at school, I continue to run into her at places where I frequent. It's irritating as hell and I've noticed how she's been replicating many of my effects and habits. And no, I'm not saying this because I'm paranoid, but because I can read this woman like a book. She's been donning a messenger bag over her head (like me), added highlights in her hair (like me), buddies up with Joyce's mom (like me), her daughter insists that Joyce is HER best friend (OMFG), have gotten manicures and pedicures (like me) and have been hounding me down for my scrapbooking supplies because that's her new hobby too. Hell, does this woman have ANY originality whatsoever?

It's baffling to know how she can pull off these purchases while parading around the town about her welfare status. Brilliant.

Bottom Line: Lindi = Freak Magnet