It was Freak Night at Ralphs again.

Every once in a while, I'll stop by the store on my way home from work and everyone there -- top to bottom, front to back -- will be spontaneously conforming to some unannounced theme: Beautiful Young Person Night, Very Tired Night, Ugly Night. Like peaks in independent waves all lining up at once, the aisles are packed, just packed, with people who all manage to share a particular trait, drawn to Ralphs at the same time by mysterious forces.

And last night it was Freak Night. Again.

There was the woman with a nose so upturned that a strong flashlight would give you a good look at her brain stem. There was the guy whose hair looks like a badly-dyed toupee. There was the lady with the extra skin. There was the biker from the Village People. On and on, more and more -- freaks, freaks everywhere, to the rafters, freaks, freaks, freaks.

Um. Except me. I, um, just stopped by for some groceries.