Why Always Me ?

  I have been told, over the years and by reliable sources, that "your life is so weird" and "how does this stuff always happen to you ?"  To that, all I can say is "I know" and "I don't know".
   I was talking to my dear sister and lifeline, Aunt, on the phone today, and I was forced to exclaim : "Shit - there's a big-ass Raggedy Ann outside my house !"  I spoke the truth : there, indeed WAS a Big Ass Raggedy Ann outside of my house, and Aunt commented on my weird life.
     I hopped to my post in the front window, and Raggedy (formerly alone) was being joined by women with parasols, old ladies in the irritating "purple hats" (just grow old gracefully and take off the fucking hat already).  A sea of pink, an ambulance, a cute table (initially, I almost ran across the street to stand in line as I was sure they were giving away those twisty newfangled CFL light bulbs...always thinking) and no less than 8 Porta-Potties (which Chief and I went to investigate last night under cloak of darkness).  Suddenly, a (CFL) lightbulb went off : must be a breast cancer event of some variety. That explains the potties, but doesn't quite explain the huge Raggedy Ann.  We're talking a large figure, either sex, full-on red clown wig (don't get me started) and a costume that is very authentic.
    Raggedy seems to be a greeter of sorts, a touchpoint, if you will.  And I will.  People are posing with Ann and everything.  I am thisclose to going over there to sniff around, but feel I would be disingenuous and work against finding The Cure if I am just a looky-loo.  Pinkly-clad femmes stream into the parking lot across the street.  It is a festive time.  Suddenly, I hear loud electronic crackling (what - losing more brain cells ?).  It is Raggedy Ann on a bullhorn and HE is shouting some instructions to the gathered.  Not getting enough undivided attention, I guess, (never mind the outfit) he then shouts : "Hey - don't ignore me - I have a bullhorn !  There's someone here in a leg cast !"   He then says : "Okay, everybody, let's give a big hand to Jessica !"  Before I realized it, I was standing in my living room, clapping for Jessica.  What the hell is wrong with me ?
  Is it me ?  Because sometimes it is.  I just feel like if there is weirdness out there, it will find me.  I am a freak magnet.  The planets line up just to confuse and surprise me.  There is so much more - the unicycle parade outside my house, the man covered in jelly on the L Taraval, calling the police for a 5150 escort for a dangerous mental patient (yes, Trudy used to be a therapist - insert gasp here) - and having a christing COP ON A HORSE show up for back-up, having an asshole bike messenger planted firmly under my front tire on Fell Street (sweet !), drunken strangers pissing their pants while talking to me...
Seriously, I could go on.  And on.  And likely will.
      Watch this space.  Things move pretty fast around here *.

*Also a movie quote.