Strange things happen to me, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's my very presence that elevates what would be considered strange by any measure to the completely bizarre.
I could be sitting in a movie theatre, waiting for a movie to start when two gorillas burst through the exit doors dressed as pirate wenches followed by members of the local police force armed with tranquilizer guns and I'd barely slow my popcorn consumption.
Most people would consider this a spectacle. Most people would wonder what in the hell was going on. I would wonder out loud whether this interruption will mean we'll all miss the previews, and how terrible that would be because I love previews.
I would also wonder where the gorillas got the leather boots to match their pirate wench costumes, because damned if I can find any that will fit my chunky peasant legs.
Next I'd kick myself for waiting until the commotion was over to unwrap my chocolate bar and make crinkling noises, which I'm always afraid will make fellow audience members hate me, and which I always seem to do during the most quiet and tense part of any movie I'm watching.
At no time will I question where the gorillas came from, how the police got involved or even why the gorillas were in costume. It would never even occur to me.
Gorilla pirate wenches have never happened, but other strange things have. This morning I was stopped while on my way into Tim Horton's by a good-looking artist type dude who wanted to know if my name was Bambi. Indeed it was. Beaming, he said that Bethany had described me perfectly and he was so glad I could be there.
Um.
I had never seen him before, and if Bethany was the girl I saw getting out of the car he had just pulled up in, I'd never laid eyes on her either. This was mildly concerning.
The guy held the door open for me, and once inside asked me if I'd be happy if he grabbed a seat by the window. For most people, this would be where confusion limits max out and explanations are demanded. I am not most people.
Admittedly, I have the memory of a goldfish lately. If I walk around my apartment one time, I will completely forget the reason I ever left point A to begin with. On any given day I have a to-do list that I forgot I made filled with tasks I forget the reasons behind needing to do.
I don't know whether it's stress, too much wine, or if my underpants are too tight and not enough oxygen is reaching my brain because I am turning really stupid.
I wanted to ask him who he was and whether I knew him, but I was so convinced I had to have known him and had simply forgotten who he was, or forgotten where I was supposed to be and why.
Perhaps me showing up purely by accident at the correct time at Tim Horton's for a meeting was just my sub-conscious trying to save me from some sort of social ruin by convincing me I needed to stop for a steeped tea - RIGHT NOW.
Most of my work meetings are spent trying to figure out something intelligent to say about something I don't know and or care nothing about, so perhaps this was like that. I was sure I hadn't ever seen these people before but then I was also sure I hadn't ever seen the McDonald's manager who served me my late night post-concert McNuggets the other night right up until I was walking home afterward and I realized I'd made out with him one ill-advised Halloween night at the bar several years back.
Perhaps I had made-out with these people and was slow to remember. As to why I had agreed to meet them in Tim Horton's just before work was a mystery I hoped would be solved once we all sat down. Luckily, Bethany arrived where we were standing in line and told her guy that he had the wrong Bambi. What are the odds??
They were indeed waiting for a woman named Bambi, a lawyer named Bambi actually, to meet them there for some sort of discussion. I was both relieved and disappointed, as the guy was really quite attractive. He told me I should take the mix-up as a compliment because I looked a lot like a lawyer.
I'm not sure how that's complimentary, unless perhaps he meant I was dressed well, which could have been the case given I really need to do laundry and was forced to bust out a dressy looking skirt this morning due to an acute shortage in clean pants.
We all had a good chuckle followed by a good round of, "What are the odds?" when the real Bambi lawyer showed up. She was very short, immensely fat, and looked as though she rolled out of bed on to her face.
I'm sure she's a lovely down to earth person, as there are not many lawyers keeping office hours in the local Timmies, but...damn-uh. Bethany supposedly described me perfectly and I was mistaken for...her? Obviously this was my karma for being such a shallow judgy bitch, and yet I'm still pissed off over it.
Luckily, I won't need much comforting. At the rate I'm going, I won't remember this at all tomorrow.
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