Ex-squeeze me?

Sometimes it is a pain in the tushie to be me, but honestly most of the time it is a freakin riot. 

Long time friends are familiar with how freaky bizarre and funny my world can be. 

Stuff HAPPENS in Kotaland that just doesn't happen to "normal" people. 

(Case in point - the dreadful escalator incident causing me to flash my bare butt at a thousand people.)

Is it because i typically tend to view things with a humorous eye... or am i really the butt-end of a universal joke. I truly suspect ignorance is bliss.

It's not always ME though. Sometimes people say completely bizarre things to me. Last week, while developing a nice case of carpal tunnel syndrome from pouring two cases of a "delightful riesling that is the most popular wine in the city right now" i was approached by a gentleman for his third or fourth, maybe even fifth glass. Understandable since at winetastings you get about three drops of wine before being herded toward the next wine station. 

Smiling at him as i poured him another glass of the "delightful riesling that is the most popular wine in the city" (it made me gag when i tried it) I commented, "you seem to be enjoying this particular wine." He smiled back and said "I could care less about the wine. I'm only over here because you're pouring it. I noticed everyone likes YOU pouring their wine." He winked at me. 

Oye. Ewww.

My pithy response to his suave pass: "Uhhh... ummm... yeah that's nice."

Gah. Where was my brilliant comeback when i needed it? 

Sometimes people DO really odd things in my world. This will be one of my favorites for years to come. There is an old, on-going joke about what exactly Scotsmen wear under their kilts. I had the opportunity of finding out what an entire regiment of scottish pipers had under theirs. In January I had a grueling 6 hours photoshoot during a special event. Part of the evening's entertainment included several spectacular performances by the bagpipers. (Love me some bagpiping.)  During an intermission I slipped outside to the hotel's park to get some fresh air. I sat on a park bench and listened with amusement as several older women descended in a flirtatious pack upon a handsome young man, who had also come outside for a break. (He told me afterwards that 80 year old women always do that to him where ever he goes. Heh.)

I was distracted from the banter by movement in one of the hotel's meeting rooms surrounding the park. The rooms had ceiling to floor windows with curtains thrown wide open, providing a glass wall into the room. The bagpipers were milling about and as i watched, they all began whipping off their kilts.  Mouth hanging open, I stared. Noticing my expression one of the women asked me what i was doing. Her group was positioned so they couldn't see into the room. 

I grinned at her then said, "I'm finding out what scotsmen have under their kilts." 

"And what would that be dear?" she asked, apparently still more enthralled with the hottie she had cornered than the answer to an eternal question.

"Plaid boxers." I solemnly responded.

"That's nice," she remarked before dismissing me and batting her eyelashes at her prey.

Okay. So I'm the only one who has pondered at length what lurked under the kilts of the brawny Scots.  Shrugging, I continued to enjoy the view of a roomful of men prancing around in their boxers until it was time to return to the event. Either they couldn't see out of the room and had no idea they were being watched, or they were enjoying a little exhibitionism. Either way it was definitely my favorite portion of the evening's entertainment.