Seriously...what the hell lady

The thing I love most about public transit is that you see ALL kinds of different people.  Most are pretty normal and then once in a while you get a real gem.  I will do my best to paint you a picture of the mess I just saw.  I’ll try…sometimes words can’t do an adequate job….sigh, wow.

So I’m going to guess that this woman was a teenager in the 80s.  She had that over-tanned look about her, you know which one..kinda tight and leathery.  She was wearing what I would consider professional clothing, and looked pretty normal, on first glance.  I’m not sure which yeti she slaughtered to make those boots, but they were just a mass of long hair.  I’m thinking that she probably has to take a comb to them every time she wears them.  She HAS to, no way to keep them looking, ahem “nice” otherwise.  So she had animals on her feet, ok maybe her feet are cold, maybe.  Then we get to the handbag and notice that this woman is most definitely NOT a member of PETA.  The handbag looked kinda like suede, maybe calf skin.  I’m pretty sure she bought it in this store I saw in Texas once called “Dressin’ Gawdy” (No lie, there is a store by that name).   So, as we move up her person to further inspect the wreckage, I notice that her skirt is slit so high, I can see her panties.  Oh and her bra is hanging out too.   Keep moving on up and I notice that her hair is EXACTLY the same color as her handbag.   She had to have compared the colors on the box to the color of her purse.   So that’s a physical description of her…now the best part…whatever 1980s music she was listening too was really moving her.  Her legs did not stop jumping (kitty would have loved to attack that yeti) and I could hear the music across the aisle thru her headphones.  She was rocking out big time.  She had an empty plastic cup and she kept flicking it to the beat of the music.  Every person in this car looked at each other with a what the hell look on their face and we all gave each other knowing smiles.   Thankfully she did not ride all the way home with me.  I looked at the lady across from me and she said "well, that was interesting."  Well said, ma'am.

Oh the humanity.   Man, I love people.

And now you know, the rest of the story

I met a new friend this week and I introduced him to my blog, and then I realized that I haven’t actually blogged for a really long time.  Ok, so let’s face it, I’m not a serial blogger, I’ll only blog when I have some nothingness to blog about.  I believe I had mentioned to some friends before that I would give you all the backstory to some of my treasures on here.  Namely, it occurs to me that not everyone knows the story of the coatrack or Mr. Peen.  So here ya go, and now you know….the rest of the story.

The Coat Rack

A couple of years ago, I was waiting in the lobby with my director and a few other people for a meeting to start with one of our buyers.   In the lobby against the wall are three coat racks, nothing fancy just the ones with the metal pole and a shelf across the top.  I was standing there chatting with my co-workers and I was spinning one of the poles on a coat rack.  Well, yeah, it wasn’t secured and I spun it so much that the opposite end I was twirling spun right out of it’s little socket thing. I stood there helpless as every coat and coat hanger on that rack tumbled to the floor.  Now, it’s the middle of winter so there are a lot of coats.  There are a lot of sales people who visit this particular customer on a daily basis.  There were a lot of coats and hangars on this rack.  I will never forget the look on my directors face when he saw what I did.  God bless that man to this day.  He bit his lip so he wouldn’t bust out laughing and then he looked at me and said “don’t move”, as he picked up the other end of the coat rack pole.  Bless his heart, he even helped me pick them all up.  I was mortified!!  Stuff like that only happens when I’m at customer meetings with my director.  I don’t know why, just my luck I guess.

Mr. Peen

Good old Mr. Peen.  Ah, you’ll love this one.  One of my very first days as a commuter on this train found me sitting across from a man who had ill-fitting clothing.   As I’m looking around to see who is on the train, I happen to notice in passing that Mr. Peen is not well adjusted in his pants.  He had on khakis…rather tight khakis.  Long story short, I could see everything that God gave him….don’t be too impressed.  It wasn’t that great and well, he’s pretty fugly.  I mean really, if I get to see something like that, couldn’t the man at least have been hot?  (sorry, honey J )  Now, I’m not above telling someone their fly is open, I’d appreciate it if someone did it for me.  But, how do you look a complete stranger in the face and say “I’m sorry, can you adjust your crotch?  I can see the outline of your penis.”   Uh, not happening.  So in my effort to ignore it, my eyes kept wandering back to see if maybe he was getting pinched and would then adjust it.  I swear to all that is holy, the thing was like a train wreck.  My head was telling me to look away but I just had to watch to see what happened next.   What is seen cannot be unseen.   So from that day on, I have referred to him as Mr. Peen.  I still see him on a regular basis, but after 6 months I’ve pretty much blocked it from my memory.  No, I really haven’t, that’s a lie.  If I had, I wouldn’t be writing about it now.

There you are my friends, some back story.  I hope this helped to enlighten you on some of the other things I have mentioned before.  If there is anything else you want a back story on, leave a comment and I will cover it in my next blog.

Happy Wednesday! 

Love you all.