Scary Friday

Some days are just normal, regular old days when you go about your business like you always do and nothing particularly strange or eventful happens. Then you'll have a day like today. There's got to be something in the water, or in the air, or in the mind-control beams the CIA sends all over Los Angeles, because the crazies were out in force. I'm wondering if I have some sort of tracking device that lets the weirdos know where I am.


On the way to work:
   A woman in a sequined cream-colored evening gown - really - crossing the street against the light in Koreatown. She was definitely NOT tall or glamorous, and the gown was too big for her and worn and frayed at the hem. Nobody honked, we didn't want to draw her attention to us. But there was obviously a story there.
   A guy running backwards down Wilshire. The sidewalk West of LaBrea is plenty wide enough for it, and I like to think he was trying to exercise his legs differently or something. But he was absolutely trotting opposite the way he was looking. I didn't stop to see how he handled the crosswalks.

At the post office:
   A skinny, way-too-tan guy with long gray hair, wearing a tank top and little tiny running shorts that reminded me of Daisy Dukes, small and tight and cut up the side, threatening to flop open and show the world more than we're prepared to see. That was enough to qualify for the list, but it gets better. He had a prosthetic left leg and was wearing black socks with his green-and-yellow tennis shoes. I'm gonna cut the guy a break and say he was color blind or something. 'Course that doesn't explain the shorts.
   Behind him, a Filipino woman in blinding pink scrubs, loudly explaining to the Post Office lady how she had absolutely nothing illegal, fragile, perishable, or illegal in her package. Nothing illegal at all. Did she mention that there was nothing illegal in it?
   Behind me, a doofus-y guy who would cough self-consciously and then make a weird high-pitched mumbling sound. Not words but like pieces of baby talk. Then he'd be quiet for thirty seconds, cough again and mutter again. Twice. Then the cycle would repeat. He was buying a stamp. That's right. One stamp.

At the grocery store:
   A really, really, really fat guy trying to sneak up on his friend. We're talking 350 + pounds of floppy-fat goober, mincing down the aisle like he was a ninja. He was about the same width side-to-side as he was front-to-back. Best of all, the guy he thought was his friend was not; he was 'sneaking' up on the wrong person.
   A lady making her lunch out of things she bought at the deli counter. She'd gotten a prepared sandwich and potato salad and was enjoying both while she shopped. I'm assuming she intended to pay for them when she was done. Unless she was going through the self-service registers. Although... she's given me an idea for a way to economize during this economic downturn.

I have no idea why this assemblage decided to present itself to me all at once today. Maybe because it's a long holiday weekend? I'm kind of afraid to leave the house now, don't know what else is lurking out there.