[click image, if you want the status on wars and torture].
I took off both pairs of glasses so you could see the great improvement in my eye situation today. I had to keep them on to find the button to push to snap the shot, hold it right there and take off the glasses with my other hand.
I put on my farmin' and plantin' and drivin' Hispanic men into gales of unrequited lust groans... well and not just Hispanic men... overalls. For some reason my overalls—covered with tao symbols and peace symbols and any number of cool silk patches of things like eyes and flowers and stains and material worn to mush from decades of use—turn on yer basic generic male of the lascivious stripe; to wit: nearly all of them. It's goofy because I originally bought them for the precise reason that they would discourage lascivious thoughts in all comers. They were my uniform in Central America, being huge and loose and covered in the good kind of pockets for cash and passport, everything that needed to stay on my person at all times, and deflect attention from a lone woman traveler. They were a smashing success for practical purposes, but an abysmal failure in the deflecting attention department. I was wearing them while finally receiving the dispositive instruction in the TRUE amount of agua pura required to ward off heat stroke at Tikal from a group of German experts. All Germans abroad are experts in everything. When in doubt, FIND A GERMAN. Anyway, I'd been certain three gallons a day would be more than enough, but they illustrated vividly to me that I'd stop panting and puffing and reeling my way around the ruins if I'd simply drink two more gallons of water. A revelation. Who'd've thunk it.
I put my overalls on today so I can grope my way down the street in search of a sighted wealthy socialist gentleman to buy me a new pair of EYES.
.
love, 99
.
Overalls were once my standard attire.
ReplyDeleteI did a brief stint at a clothing store in my college town. Small town in the middle of agricultural areas. One day a farmer came in asking for a "Hundred Dollar Suit". I took him to the rack were the suits were in the $100 dollar range and asked what size he needed. He gave me a strange look and repeated that he wanted a "Hundred Dollar Suit". I took one off the rack and showed him the $95 price tag at which point he he gave a harrumph and went off to another clerk repeating his request. The clerk, well versed in the local lingo, took him over to the rack of overalls!
I worked there for about a month and a half, fighting with the damn shirt displays.
My first day I arranged them such that one was upright and the next on top was face down and collar to the front. Stacked alternating as such kept a level platform for the top shirt which was displayed face up facing the customer.
(These shirts were packaged with cardboard in the collar so the were not flat.)
The owner instead insisted that all the shirts in the stack should be upright and facing the customer. Therefore once there were four or five shirts in the stack they were prone to sliding off onto the floor. I spent more time picking shirts up off the floor than I did selling them.
I finally quit one day after having a horrible nightmare about being buried in avalanching shirts!