Tell me why… (2)

Because I ran out of steam a little halfway through my blog yesterday, thus cutting it a little shorter than I usually would’ve, I decided to cheat and name some things that happened today as a reason to hate yesterday.
I’d not advise anyone to do temporal displaced hating, as it can get quite tricky, but for the connoisseur it is one of the three most preferred types of hating.

First off, the guy who wears my shoes (GwwmS, or Gwooms) works in my office, and was wearing them today AGAIN. As I am slowly but surely turning into a male Imelda Marcos, I have started to dislike wearing the same pair twice in a row, depending off course on circumstances. (I am sporting a new pair of Adidas again today; man it is nice to be sample-sized) But Gwooms was not only wearing my shoes again, he was wearing exactly the same outfit, AGAIN. And he hardly looks like he guy who’d be able to get a one-night stand if he’d tried well disguised, oozing rohypnol and sporting several different strengths of chloroform on his shawl.
Gwooms’ shawl, by the way, is one of those checkered frilly tea-towel type things one associates with the lesser washed class of terrorist, if Boyfriend were to reply to this blog as well he’d probably have something to say about it.
Anyways, I know I am a great promoter of the “outfit” style of dressing, where a particular piece would most likely be joined with very definite other pieces, so that at least he’s doing correct. You just shouldn’t do it twice in a row. Especially not when wearing my shoes.

Gwooms still far in the future, I was on the bus this morning. As I get the bus about a stop after the central bus-stop in my little town, there is usually the option of nabbing a seat, which I usually do, as it makes reading that much easier. So as well this morning, no worries. Then, a small, slightly fattish (dimension wise she was a tad bit more spherical than the Willendorf-statue) woman cam on the bus, and stood next to me, then proceeding to take of clothes and dislodge bags, and putting them all, along with her dripping wet umbrella, in the luggage netting above my waterproof head and not at all waterproof book.
Now, this is very wrong for two (2) reasons. First (1st), one should never put anything dripping above a reading Kevin, lest one is willing to carry ones ears back home in ones hat. I did not deliver the smack down of whoopass on this woman because, well, we were on a bus, and I was wearing light colored clothes, and fat people stain like all hell. I should know, I am one.

Second (2nd), even though I know that the luggage shelves are there for our convenience, it is not really common to actually use them. It was even downright odd to see them used at all, especially the way this woman used them. After stationing herself next to my left elbow she proceeded to take of layer after layer after layer of clothing, one more horrendously colored than the last, and piling them onto their less recently discarded counterparts. She was doing this from about 50cm away, though, meaning she had to lean across me, the person next to her, and the person behind me to get her preferred amount of color coded annoyance out among the masses.
Twenty seconds after having stripped down to a simply revolting piece of material that could have been a shift, a tent, or a muumuu, she noticed her stop coming up, and started to do the whole thing in reverse, donning clothing left right and center so as to be fully dressed when she arrived at her bus stop just 3 stops later. All in all, she could have easily walked it, mine is a small town, and the bus curves around it so that the space between where she got on to the bus and where she got of was about half the traveled distance, and would’ve taken all of three minutes to walk, and three and a half to roll.

Strange, strange fat woman.

Grtz,
K.