Wierdest thing ever...

[Shagnasty]

I have had about the strangest life most people have heard of by most accounts. Here is some assorted weirdness.

Most people joke about their school burning down. Mine really did. Mid-way through my senior year of high school, someone torched the place. The old, dilapidated buildings were unrecoverable within 15 minutes of the start. The blaze shot several hundred feet in the air and was so bright that it woke up most of the town including me and my mother. Everyone just drove there and watched it burn down the whole night. We stayed out of school for two weeks and then they moved the whole school in the gym. The original school smoldered for over a month. We didn’t have books and many records were destroyed so we just played games until we graduated.

Senior year of college, I started having a squirrel falling problem. Two squirrels were fighting in a tree a one fell out and brushed my shoulder as it fell. That started the cycle. Over the next three years I saw over 10 squirrels fall. Some fell out of trees. One morning I got in my car and plunk, a squirrel fell on my hood. Another day, I was walking by a Boston brownstone and people were gathered outside it. A squirrel was clutched to the side of it. It eventually fell too. One guy said “God damn, I didn’t know those little sons of bitches ever fell”. I just said “They do around me and walked off”. The phenomena stopped suddenly one day and hasn’t returned.

My wife and I bought our house in a suburban Boston town that we had never been to before. The real-estate agent drove down from Maine and was very friendly and helped us get almost $100,000 off the list price because it was a fixer-upper. At the house closing, he pulled us aside and said that he had to tell us something. He turned to my wife and said “You don’t know me but I know you well. I had to make sure you got that house. You see, your grandfather was like a father to me. Not here but in Florida (my wife barely knew her grandfather). I used to live beside him. Here are some pictures. You know your aunt on the other side of the family? I used to be engaged to her. Also, that restaurant where you eat all the time for lunch in Boston? My brother owns that and knows you as well. I just figured it was for the best that you got it for something you wanted and could afford.” Then he left without saying anything else.

[jawdirk]

I’ve always had a special connection with cats. When I was 5, my parents told me that we could get a pet kitten, and I visualized what sort of cat I wanted: a striped black and silver cat. The particular coloring I envisioned is somewhat rare, but we went to the local animal shelter, and I saw the cat immediately. An employee at the animal shelter helped my parents smuggle the cat out because we couldn’t afford the fees. Despite the fact that I was a typical 5-year-old with no clue about how to treat a cat (chasing it into corners, petting it the wrong way, etc.) the cat loved me more than any of the rest of the family for its whole life (and I wasn’t the one who fed it).

A couple years after that cat died, I began visualizing the next cat I would have. I knew it would be white. I was afraid it would have those ugly pink ears like most white cats, but all the same I knew it would be white. I remember thinking about how white was an evil color, even more evil than black. Years later, just before I finished my Master’s degree thesis, my then girlfriend told me that her Buddhist teacher had brought several puppies and a white kitten back from the pet store. He habitually went to pet stores, bought way too many pets, and then bestowed them on his followers. My girlfriend instantly fell in love with this kitten (I’d never told her about visualizing my next cat, and we had no plans to get a cat). It slept in her bed every night, and followed her around all day. Her teacher gave it to her because he said, “the kitten thinks she is its mommy!” When my girlfriend brought the cat to my place, I knew immediately that it was the cat I had visualized. It had perfect white ears (although it was deaf), and a happy, playful, and thoroughly evil disposition. It would routinely maul my hands with its claws as we played, and learned to scratch me just lightly enough that I would bleed but wouldn’t get angry. Although my girlfriend was always like the cat’s mommy, she was still jealous of the bond I had with the cat. I haven’t seen the cat since we broke up (it was her cat), but in retrospect, I had a stronger bond with the cat than my ex-girlfriend.

I don’t think I will see my white cat again, but I know that my next cat will be black. I have a feeling that it will be sharp and sensitive unlike most black cats, which tend to be slightly dull and friendly. Black cats are pretty common, and I have no idea how I will come to own a black cat, but I’ll know it when I see it.

[Lionne]

@Gundhilde

When I was 12, I was one the phone with a friend when my dad walked into the room and handed me a shotglass of Goldschlager. “Take a shot!” he says. I put down the phone and gave him a strange look, but never one to turn down a free shot, I took it. Then, I handed him back the empty shotglass and was like “What was that for?”

At which point my dad got this sneaky grin. He put his hand behind his back, and it emerged holding an uncooked hot dog, with which he playfully slapped me before walking casually away.

I just realized that I never told that story to my therapist. I can’t imagine how I’ve managed to keep that from coming up in conversation…

I think this one takes the prize! Have you ever brought this up with your dad?

[KRC]

I have a couple ringneck parrots, a species that is native to India, Pakistan, and North Africa. They like to splash in their water trays and get their faces wet. One day the female soaked her face, then jumped up onto the windowsill to wipe her face off against the glass.

When she was done she had left streaks that looked exactly like the Arabic word for Allah.

[Shalmanese]

@KRC

I have a couple ringneck parrots, a species that is native to India, Pakistan, and North Africa. They like to splash in their water trays and get their faces wet. One day the female soaked her face, then jumped up onto the windowsill to wipe her face off against the glass.

When she was done she had left streaks that looked exactly like the Arabic word for Allah.

did you sell it on ebay?

[moonstarssun]

I have tons of them, but I’ll just post my two favorites.

The first one was my freshman year, at art school. It was midterm and everyone was horribly sleep deprived, so during a break in class we were all slumped in the lobby, dozing or staring off into space. The building we were in was L-shaped, and the lobby was in the short end. From down the hall, the long end of the L, we heard this loud rumbling and clattering coming toward us. It seemed to go on forever. Finally a guy came running around the corner with two skeletons on wheeled racks (one of the skeletons was headless, and they both swung around crazily when he took that corner). We all watched blearily as he disappeared into the room on the other side of the lobby.

The second one was also during my early college years. The guy I was dating, his roommate, a friend from down the hall, and I were going to see Rattle & Hum, but the guys wanted to see it in Dolby, so we had to go to a theater that was about 45 minutes away (this was in southern CA). So we hopped into Roommate’s car and started looking for the place. We got lost and stopped at a convenience store for directions. The clerk didn’t speak English. We tried again–same thing. At the third stop, Roommate asked Friend to go talk to the guy since he could speak Arabic. Friend tried, but didn’t have any luck. At the fourth stop, Boyfriend and Roommate went in together. While they were in there, Friend told me, very quietly and calmly, “I don’t want to alarm you, but I took acid before we left and I’m starting to think that we’re the last four Americans on the planet.”

[KRC]

<hijack>

What, Shalmanese, you mean I could have made some money? Waaaaah!

<hijack over>

[NurseCarmen]

@Marlitharn

Suddenly a guy in a gorilla suit with a delivery bag from a local newspaper hanging around his neck walked in, laid a banana on the counter, and walked out again.

Great. Now I have to buy a gorilla suit.

[wevets]

@Ghanima

One time I was sitting at the register in the comic book store. My co-worker and I were pretty bored, and I was kind of facing him, staring into the store, while he was facing toward me, looking out the front of the store. He had that distant spaced-out stare that people get, when he sudden kind of smiled and gave a short laugh. “What?” I asked him. He replied “I just saw a guy in a pink tutu riding a unicycle down the sidewalk.” Being naturally skeptical, I had to go and look. Indeed there was a grown man wearing a pink leotard and tutu, riding a unicycle down the sidewalk. That’s something you don’t see every day.

Was this in Berkeley? It sounds like Pinkman! I used to see him a lot.

[Ghanima]

@wevets

Was this in Berkeley? It sounds like Pinkman! I used to see him a lot.

Indeed it was Pinkman. What a character.

[ZebraShaSha]

All right, I have one specifically in mind, now.

Just a few months ago, my friend and I were trying to finish our long established task of riding every elevator in Greensboro. I’m not too sure how much I’ve shared on it in the past, but we decided one day that something worth accomplishing was going into every building and using the elevator. Greensboro is a big city, so it’s a task of the impossible sort, but we were trying.

Anyway.

It was a little after rush hour, when the population of Downtown quickly evaporates under the beckoning of starlight. Heavy conjestion of the foggy morning and balmy afternoon hours is replaced by street lamps lit for no one in particular and weary foot passengers galore.

On this day, we had been to quite a few buildings on this one specific street, entering every building as we went. Whether it was towering monstrosity of glass and steel or a flat refurbished into a hopeful gallery, we entered, looking for elevators. Most owners were obliging to offer us assitance, but where there was no owner, we obliged ourselves.

It just so happens that this exploratory nature lead us into this one building, a building that was in the process of being renovated. As in all medium to large cities in all medium to large galaxies across the universe, a recent historical renovation fervor descened unexpectingly on the populace. A stormy darkness of aesthetic, if you will. Anyway, in this building, the lights hung themselves from the nonexistant ceiling, while most walls were either gone or as near to it as possible. Debri littered the floor, the ceiling, and almost-walls, so much that it seemed more intuitive to call anything that was working debri.

The building, as near as we could tell, was empty.

No one was on the ground floor, and the elevator did not work. There did exist stairs, however. They bled down the off-white stairwell with as much surprise as a hole in the head; crimson red and unassuming. Finding our natural place far above the mortal realm, and finding no where to go but up, we decided to try these stairs, checking our shoes every other rung for particles of brain and skull.

It went on like this for awhile, I guess. Up some; think a little. It was a narrow stairwell, but we had narrow intentions. It was a laborous process, but we were bored. It actually went on for longer than expected. Although there were only two floors, the architects had much loftier expectations.

Very near the top, we rounded a short flight of stairs, to find a girl. After all this time, all these steps, all the sweating, we found a girl. Precursory glances suggested she was no more than a couple of generations, perhaps 20. She was dressed nicely, but nothing spectacular. Her hair was black, her shirt red, her jeans blue. Not attractive, but her appearance was no reason for her to be sitting on the top of these stairs, alone, in this abandoned building.

She was in good spirits, and she was Mexican.

This is when it gets weird, actually - she was in good spirits, and she was Mexican. It’s weird not only because she was alone on these steps, but it also became apparent that she did not speak English. That’s weird. We asked everything we could, but I could make out nothing. It was all German to me, and she was all Spanish. We went on for awhile - awkward glances, hidden laughter, crooked smiles - until we could have no more. After searching the building and confirming she was alone, and not able to ask what she was doing, nor ask who she was, or how many years she had, we decided there was only one thing to do.

We found no place to go but down.

I’ll never know who she was, but she kept me young for a little while longer. Now, I know that no matter what life is, how hard times are, or even if it’s time to wear white, I know that some where out there a Spanish Princess is overseeing a kingdom of missed but not forgotten renovation, on a throne of rojo stairs.

[Shalmanese]

@KRC

<hijack>

What, Shalmanese, you mean I could have made some money? Waaaaah!

<hijack over>

Not just some money, a LOT of money. Jesus toast wen’t for over $20,000 on ebay.

[NurseCarmen]

@Ghanima

Indeed it was Pinkman. What a character.

We had the Birdman at the University of Minnesota. He would flap his arms all the time as he walked around. You could look out a window an tell how could it was, because birdman would flap slow in warm weather. If he was about to take flight, you knew it was really friggen cold outside.

Last I heard of the Birdman was that he was institutionalized because he smacked some wealthy alum. She had been walking to a hockey game, and got clocked. Everyone who knew birdman had the same reaction. Of course she got smacked! If you see birdman coming down the sidewalk at you on a cold winter’s night, get the hell out of the way, cause he’s ready for take off! At over 6 feet and probably not even pushing 150 pounds, the birdman sure could hog a sidewalk.

[Marlitharn]

I remembered another one. I was in my car stopped at a four-way when from my right appeared a bicyclist. I was in a university town, so there was nothing odd about seeing a bicyclist. This particuar bicyclist, however, had painted his face and bald head silvery blue. And he was wearing a cape. He coasted through the intersection and continued down the hill, cape billowing behind him. As he passed out of sight I shook my head and lit a cigarette and went on with my errands.

[Improv_Geek]

I live with 4 roommates, a Chinese guy, a Korean guy, a white guy (Ukrainian descent) and a guy who’s father is Pakistani, his mother is Welsh, and he was raised in Kenya. How’s that for a setup?

[Improv_Geek]

Oh!

I was walking home from classes on campus and it was late, I had been in the lab working on a project. So it was like 1am. So I am walking and as I am coming down the sidewalk and I see this guy in a white suit, a white fedore and snazzy shoes riding an old fashioned bike with the bent handlebars and stuff. He just smiled at me and rode past. It was very surreal.

[DrLoveGun]

@Ghanima

One time I was sitting at the register in the comic book store. My co-worker and I were pretty bored, and I was kind of facing him, staring into the store, while he was facing toward me, looking out the front of the store. He had that distant spaced-out stare that people get, when he sudden kind of smiled and gave a short laugh. “What?” I asked him. He replied “I just saw a guy in a pink tutu riding a unicycle down the sidewalk.” Being naturally skeptical, I had to go and look. Indeed there was a grown man wearing a pink leotard and tutu, riding a unicycle down the sidewalk. That’s something you don’t see every day.

In San Francisco he’s famous. If you know where to look, you can find him almost every day.