Yeah… That Would Happen to Me.

I’m such a “pick me.”

Weird things happen to me.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it.

I have the kind of life where every few weeks I find myself thinking, "Yeah... checks out."

I've accepted that God keeps handing me bizarre interactions because He knows my louder personality can survive them.

(Or at least that's what I tell myself while replaying them at 3:14 a.m.)

Case in point:

A guy recently informed me that I am apparently known to his entire friend group as "The Furry Girl."

Before you panic:

1. I am not a furry.

2. I don't attend furry conventions.

3. He doesn't attend furry conventions.

4. This is somehow still my nickname. (A solid nickname, all things considered.)

5. There is, unfortunately, a backstory.

The first time we all hung out, the restaurant next to the dry bar happened to be hosting what can only be described as... a furry rave.

And yes.

It's exactly what it sounds like.

We all did what any mature adults would do.

We stood outside the door for an uncomfortable amount of time, silently trying to decide whether we were actually seeing what we thought we were seeing.

Eventually, we accepted that there was no amount of processing that was going to make this make sense.

So we went downstairs for mocktails instead.

Unfortunately, the universe wasn't done with us.

The open mic had been hijacked by a parade of mediocre comedians. One guy enthusiastically shouted, "I'm bad! You're all good!" while we unsuccessfully attempted to play card games over what sounded less like stand-up comedy and more like several public existential crises.

The mocktails were aggressively average.

Eventually, some of the guys we were hanging out with decided enough was enough. They marched upstairs to get the answers we all desperately needed from our furry neighbors.

As a reporter by day, I was honestly relieved.

For once, someone else was asking the questions.

I simply stood back and watched them interview what appeared to be Sonic the Hedgehog.

Looking back, you'd think that would be the weirdest story I'd have.

It isn't. It’s not even close.

And the darndest thing is... I had completely forgotten it happened.

Because my threshold for strange is apparently completely broken.

A furry rave isn't a once-in-a-lifetime story anymore.

It's just another Tuesday for good ol' Alivia.

Apparently, you all agree, because after asking on Instagram, the overwhelming response was, "Tell us the weird stories."

So that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Welcome to a new series:

Yeah... That Would Happen to Me.

I've got stories about accidentally getting locked inside a mall after closing, the time I unknowingly went on a date that wasn't the kind of date I thought it was, bizarre reporting assignments, roommate nightmares, and enough random encounters to make me question whether I'm secretly living in a sitcom. (Did I mention I have an irrational fear of bicycles?)

Unfortunately for me...

Fortunately for you...

There's plenty more where this came from.

Until next blog,