Mt. Rushmore

A friend asked me today why weird things always seem to happen when I'm around. I don't think I really have a good answer for that. I mean, I've heard the rumor that I, myself, am not the most normal apple in the bunch (wait-- apples don't come in bunches....should I have said barrel there? Cause I don't think that people really say "the most normal grape in the bunch".....of course they could and it would be just as valid. I like grapes.)

Anyway, I don't know that I think weird things happen to me more than anyone else. Ok, that's a lie. I don't know anyone else who has been forced by the state of Kansas to cut the windshield out of their car. I only know four other people that have ever gotten lost in a an underground labyrinth in Germany. But those are just the four people that were with me, so I'm not sure they count. And there is the letter I got from the lonely felon who saw my address in a church bulletin--- but I don't think my weirdness attractors could have worked through a piece of paper...right?

Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, my car was stolen from below my bedroom window by a ring of Russian Car thieves. And it's true that when the police found my car we realized they took all of my CDs except for Natalie Merchant. But that's not weird so much as unfortunate. There is the incident of me accidentally telling my Irish soul mate that I have a boyfriend but that was more stupidity than weirdness (of course the fact that his friends were wearing plastic face masks of Irish politicians did add a certain odd flair to the talk....)

And you know, my first night in Europe when I was 17 did entail getting followed by a gang of drunken men down a Parisian street at midnight...but it also involved a very nice man in a suit with a baby who scared the drunkards off and found a nice Jamaican woman to walk me and my friend back to our hotel. And my teacher did get arrested (while I had all of his money and his passport) on our trip to Greece the next summer for jumping into a fountain, but that was him-- not me. I didn't get "arrested" until two years later-- and that was in Slovakia not Greece. And the only reason I was there in the first place was to get free refills at the Little Caesar's in Brataslava. They didn't have that in Vienna. What? It made perfect sense at the time.

And now that I've reread this, I'm impressed anyone is willing to go anywhere with me at all.