Bizarro World...

So I came to the conclusion today that London exists in some sort of weird parallel universe where the majority of the population is certifiably crazy. I almost can't believe I waited this long to draw this conclusion. I mean, I have seen some strange stuff in my life, but these past couple of weeks have been nothing short of hilarious. And appalling. Hilariously appalling, really...

I know I already mentioned the guy who randomly approached me and asked if I'd like to have his child, and while that was definitely funny, I can't say I'd be all that surprised if it happened while we were out downtown in Athens. London is crazy on a whole 'nother level. Here's what I mean...

-- I already listed the James Taylor-playing Underground man as one of the things that makes me smile. What I didn't mention was the lady who plays on the days when he doesn't. She is this little pixie of a lady who looks like a tiny version of Mimi from the Drew Carey show. She has got to be pushing 60, yet she wears clothes that look like they were made for Disco Barbie, and she ALWAYS, even at 8 in the morning, has on huge gobs of this glittery blue eye makeup that make her look like a smurf. To top it all off, I am thoroughly convinced that she was in the munchkin chorus in The Wizard of Oz when they sing 'We Welcome You to Munchkinland'...and better yet, in her helium voice, she unashamedly belts Bette Midler songs in the far-too-echoey tunnel of the Underground. I always make sure to check which day it is when walking into this particular tunnel, and I quickly turn my iPod on full blast when I realize it's her and not my James Taylor man.

She's amusing, but she can't hold a candle to these three all stars...

-- A couple weeks ago, my friend Cora and I were walking over to another one of the universities in London to listen to a talk about women and AIDS. Nice and uplifting, I realize...I swear, as a result of school, my life revolves around HIV at this point. Anyway, we were just walking down the sidewalk, minding our business, and we were headed up a little incline. I sort of glanced out in front of us, because, as I mentioned before, you can never be too careful about watching where you're walking around here. Well a little ways up the hill, there was this stubby man with a big beer belly just sort of standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He had this weird look on his face, and as we got up to his part of the hill, he started doing this creepy stalker-stare straight at Cora and myself. Naturally, he was on my side of the walkway, so when we got right up to him, I made a very concentrated effort to stare straight at Cora (and away from him) as she was talking to me...and then I hear the strangest sound coming from our creepy little sidewalk man. Out of sheer morbid curiousity, I made the mistake of glancing over at him, and I see him standing there, poking his belly at us and doing that spitting 4-year-old raspberry thing with his tongue. He made that sound for a solid 10 seconds, and I didn't even know what to do but make a face of "what the...," look at Cora in shock, and walk as quickly as I could the rest of the way into the Underground station. We'd have liked to blame it on the fact that he was hammered (at 4:30 in the afternoon), but the bottle in his hand said Diet Coke. What a psycho...

-- So immediately after the sidewalk spitter totally creeps me out, we get on the train to head over toward the London Bridge, where our talk was. We make our way onto the subway, and at this point, we're still pretty tickled by the Incident. Cora then makes a comment about how weird stuff always happens to me, referring to the baby proposition, and right about that time, this impish little man jumps onto the train and stands near us. We're just standing there, minding our business and talking about the funny things that have happened lately, when he overhears our conversation and evidently decides that we are in need of some religious intervention on his part. He basically starts doing what looks like a little Irish Jig dance and pulls a crucifix out of his pocket. He holds it up in the air and repeatedly starts making a cross motion in front of us, while smiling this weird toothy (but missing a few teeth...) grin and chuckling to himself. I swear, at this point, I'm thinking that someone has definitely lost the key to the Central London Nuthouse and all of the crazies just happened to hop right on over to join us for a little higher learning at the London School of Economics...

These things were funny enough, but I believe that was actually Friday the 13th, so I'd just chalk it up to people being weird. And then today happens...

-- I'm sitting in the atrium of a building at school this afternoon, waiting for my friend Heather so we could go listen to this boring lecture on participatory action efforts in Brazil (don't ask, it was terrible...and in Portuguese...), when it starts raining the obligatory 2 inches for the day. Of course, everyone starts scurrying around whapping people with their umbrellas, and the chaos that I previously described for you ensues. I, however, can sit happily inside and laugh about all of this, because I don't have to walk anywhere. And then I see one of the stranger things I've ever witnessed. This tiny girl (seriously, even I probably had 3 inches and 15 pounds on her) ducks inside the doorway, for what I assume is a momentary break from the insanity going on on the sidewalk. Ohhhhh no. I had no idea what a treat I was in store for. She crouches down and pulls a pair of those swishy warm-up pants out of her bag. Ok, I think...maybe she's going to the gym. Nope, nope, nope. She proceeds to pull them on OVER her regular pants...and yes, Anna, she almost falls while doing this. Twice...but she doesn't stop there. She then tucks the blazer-esque jacket that she's already wearing INTO the top of the pants, cinches up the drawstring around her waist, and ties them as tight as they'll go. Then she crouches back down again, pulls a little nylon pouch out of her bag, ever so carefully unzips it, and pulls out an anorak (those swishy pullover jackets with a hood that zip halfway up that every kid who shops at Old Navy has). She pulls the giant (and by 'giant' I mean this jacket probably would have fit Reggie White) thing over her head and zips it all the way up to her chin. She then cinches the drawstring around her face so tightly that all you can really see is her nose. As if all of this wasn't enough to make me laugh out loud, she isn't quite finished. She crouches down one last time, pulls a SHOWER CAP out of her bag and pulls it over the hood of Reggie White's jacket. Then she goes to work on her shoes. She tucks the bottoms of her swishy pants (and by extension her other pants too, I guess...) into her shoes and then loops the laces around the bottom of her pants and ties them up around her ankles, in what I can only assume is a final attempt at keeping water off of her clothes. The girl looked like she was ready to go fly fishing. In Niagra Falls. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life, and I couldn't believe no one else was getting to witness it. She then zips her bag up, straightens her shower cap, and marches out into the rain. I mean...was all of that really neceesary?? Have you never heard of this great invention called an umbrella? Heather, of course, got there about 15 seconds too late to see any of this for herself, so while I was telling her about it, I was laughing so hard I had tears streaming down my face...oh, and I know I must have said the word 'pants' about 10 times, really loud and giggly, which, FYI, is not something you want to do in England. 'Pants' here means underwear...and I could totally care less. It was hilarious.

I have GOT to start taking my camera with me when I leave the house...

Oh, and one last funny thing...in my horrendously boring research methods lecture last friday, my teacher was talking about experimental design and the placebo effect. He was using this example of people with colds, and how giving them anything resembling medicine can sometimes cause them to report a lessening of their symptoms. The remedy of choice in his example was echinecea...only he kept pronouncing it "ek-ay-nay-see-uh." He must have ever-so-eloquently butchered this word 15 times in a span of 20 minutes, but ironically, only after he made some snide comment about Americans being dumb. Beautifully illustrated there, sir...

That's about all I've got for today. Just wanted to share some laughs from the looney bin that I am currently calling home.

However, I think that in order to truly appreciate it, you may just have to see it for yourself...hint, hint... :)