I love to people watch. If you’re going to crank up the bass on your car stereo and “throw your arms in the air like you just don’t care” then I’m going to stare with equally unabashed amusement at the spectacle you’re making of yourself.
With the exception of when I can hear your hippety-hop stereo over my own I don’t watch with any sort of malicious intent, but I’m constantly amused at what people do while they’re “alone” in their vehicle.
And as I’ve mentioned before, I’m also amused at what people will put on their vehicles.
The other day on my way to work I saw not one, not two, but three separate examples of painfully stupid things, so I felt the need to share.
1: Have you seen those corner to corner rear window stickers that pick-up trucks have? Generally it’s some redneck with his fluttering flag (yeah, you’re patriotic. We get it.) or Calvin pissing on the
Yeah. You read that right—a spontaneously-combusting, pregnant, virgin, the size of Godzilla, standing beneath the tourist hallmark of the most dangerous city in the
2: It’s been raining rather non-stop the last few days here in St. Lou, and I always feel bad for those poor saps standing out in it. However, it was really hard to feel sorry for this one guy because he seemed to be enjoying himself just a bit too much.
Like a page out of Calvin Klein’s REJECTED files, this guy—with what would normally be a gigantic afro were in not for all the drizzle—was standing in the cross walk with his drooping pants and equally drooping mouth, blankly staring up into the rain. Now the really odd part was that he had his t-shirt pulled up and was mindlessly rubbing his left nipple.
I was stopped at the light and watched this go on for well over a minute before someone honked at him and his magical moment was broken. I kept thinking “It’s a little early in the morning to be breaking out the ecstasy, isn’t it?”
3: I always find it amusing when I just catch the end of a interesting conversation. You never know how things got to that point, but you just walk in to something like, “… and that’s why my butt hurts so badly this morning.”
Anyway, the visual equivalent of that happened to me while I was at the stop light the other night. An old woman with bulging blue eyes (she very much looked like Grace Zabriskie) pointed an angry, shaking, witchly, finger at the car in front of her and shot out curses with lips so thin and tight, I wasn’t able to read them. Her face turned a reddish-purple as she then took her hands and mimed what looked like crushing a cantaloupe between them.
She then slapped her steering wheel and grabbed a hold of either side for a more full body shake that lifted her up off of her seat.
I swear it was like watching pro-wrestling on mute.
What I found equally amusing was the twenty-something chickedy in front of her who was blabbing on her cell phone and checking her eye make-up in her visor mirror, completely oblivious to the fact that she was having her entire lineage (and apparently future cantaloupe) cursed into an early grave.
5 comments:
Well, I am known for the Frosted Dairy Dessert Happy Dance which only happens in the car on the way to Wendy's, it gets some looks. Oh, and I have my Hips don't fib dance which is only done when Hips don't lie is on. They look similar, just picture a seizure.
I like to people watch, also. It's more fun to me than shopping in a mall or waiting for an airplane in an airport. Good post. I enjoyed seeing the people of St. Lou through your eyes. It made me smile. That being said, where is "the wife said"? Your posts seem incomplete without her.
Today, I refused to let a biotch squeeze into my turn lane at the last minute (because that is what you do in St. Louis, she should be smart enough to know where she is going in the first place) and she did this hands in the air, poor me dance, then she quickly realized her car was plowing back out of the lane she just squeezed into. Then 5 people passed her and would not let her back in the sacred exit lane and she missed her exit!! Serves her right! I LOVE ST. LOUIS!
The great and powerful Nan has spoken to me of this Frosted Dairy Dessert Happy Dance, and it frightens me. A lot.
Susan,
For what it’s worth, I told both the wife and sister-in-law when the blog was posted. However, the fact that they both are admitted car dancers may have something to do with the comment delay. =)
I met my first husband becuase he was so entralled by my car dancing skills, he had to follow me an extra 5 miles to work just to get my name and number. Yep...I am that good at the car dancing.
Post a Comment