When fans become friends

Last night I went out with two Crazy Train readers, two very loyal Crazy Train readers, where one is actually now a good friend who sends me cards and nice emails and likes all my Facebook posts and drives me home when I'm drunk. See? A true friend.

We went to Jack Astor's even though I wanted to fancy it up at the Royal York hotel but the bitch was closed and the other restaurant was like, come at 7, and I was like, ugh. No.

So Jack Astor's it was and the scantily clad waitress who thought I mowed rugs and put extra alcohol in all my Caesars - good times.

A drunken GO train ride home meant I was dialing up all the crazy I could muster while listening to, let's call him Carlos, talk on his phone about Chamon (seriously, Chamon as in Michael Jackson "chamon" or Weird Al Yankovic's "Chamon - ham on whole wheat - all right") who took his money but then didn't do what she said she would do so now Carlos has to three-way his cousin (I know - very non-PG) and he was not okay with any of it. NOT. OKAY.

Carlos really needs to get his finances in order because apparently banks keep turning him down. I guess that's what happens when you lend money to girls named "Chamon".