Cranberry wrote:
Dubhlinn, I'm sure your attire was stunning!
I don't do "attire"... Bitch
Slan,
D.
You mean you weren't wearing your white on white all white retro 70s flared pimp suit with the white fedora and the heliotrope ribbon? I must say, I'm shocked, D.
..always a Panama...get real Dude!
Slan,
D.
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.
djm wrote:Curiously, the men working at the store were all embarassed for her, while the women working in the store all thought this was screamingly hilarious.
djm
This is EveryWoman's MegaFear. Spiders, snakes, earth opening up and swallowing you . . . it all pales beside the fear of . . . that.
Your life marked by a trail of ruined garments, daily you find yourself stopping dead in your tracks and mentally saying "Oh noooo!"
They weren't laughing because they thought it was funny, but out of relief that fate hadn't selected them.
I see it as a missed opportunity, dub, you could have been handy with a hanky and helped wipe the offending red liquid off of her... if you know what I mean.
"A man is only as old as the woman he feels."- Groucho Marx
Cynth wrote:Oh dear, it looks like he forgot his veggies.
And now there was no doubt that the trees were really moving - moving in and out through one another as if in a complicated country dance. ('And I suppose,' thought Lucy, 'when trees dance, it must be a very, very country dance indeed.')
jGilder wrote:I see it as a missed opportunity, dub, you could have been handy with a hanky and helped wipe the offending red liquid off of her... if you know what I mean.
"A man is only as old as the woman he feels."- Groucho Marx
Ha...
A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing. But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties.
Karl Marx
Well, I thought it was funny...
Slan,
D.
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.
Samuel Clemens, otherwise known as, Mark Twain. He was a very good friend of my great granduncle, Richard Watson Gilder.
I have a photo of Larry McCullough the tin whistle tutor guy in a white suit & facial hair, taken some time in the seventies. Looks like a younger Mark Twain.
And now there was no doubt that the trees were really moving - moving in and out through one another as if in a complicated country dance. ('And I suppose,' thought Lucy, 'when trees dance, it must be a very, very country dance indeed.')
jGilder wrote:I see it as a missed opportunity, dub, you could have been handy with a hanky and helped wipe the offending red liquid off of her... if you know what I mean.
"A man is only as old as the woman he feels."- Groucho Marx
Ha...
A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing. But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties.
Karl Marx
Well, I thought it was funny...
Slan,
D.
Is that a theological nicetie in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?
Cynth wrote:Oh dear, it looks like he forgot his veggies.
Ah... the home town boy... Samuel L....
anniemcu
--- "You are what you do, not what you claim to believe." -Gene A. Statler
--- "Olé to you, none-the-less!" - Elizabeth Gilbert
--- http://www.sassafrassgrove.com
It's too bad the Lady In White didn't have much of a sense of humour (tho' I suppose, if she was on her way to a party -- or her (casual) wedding! -- it's understandable, sorta).
Kids can be real rapscallions, certainly.
I was once eating lunch at a tiny little Greek delicatessen a few blocks from where I lived at the time. There were only two tables (I think) in the place, and most of the business was take-out. I was sitting at one table on this occasion, and a woman came in, half-dragging her little girl -- maybe six or seven years old -- behind her. She yanked out one of the chairs at my table and plopped her kid into it, without even a word to me.
"Okay", I thought, noting that the other table had a small group at it, and that Mom seemed pretty rushed. I smiled at the little girl sitting across from me. She just sort of stared back.
When Mom got to the front of the line, she suddenly yells out to her kid, "Keisha [or something like that]! What d'you want to eat?"
The heretofore silent child reached across the table, grabbed a dolma from my plate and waved it towards her mother. "I want one of these!" she yelled, and then put the dolma back on my plate, where it sort of rocked back and forth for a moment, while I goggled, aghast.
"Keisha!", says mom again. Here, I'm thinking little Keisha is about to get a lecture about touching other people's food -- waving it around in the air, even! -- or maybe even screamed at, causing a horrible scene (I was still sort of stunned into immobility, staring at my tainted dolma). "Keisha! That is *not* going to be enough food; what else do you want?" continues Mom.
dubhlinn wrote: Taking away her stuff she let a large tomato roll out of her bag and onto the floor so she squats down to pick it up and at that moment, just as she reached for it, a young boy of about four or five years of age appears out of nowhere shouts "YAHHHH!" and jumps on the tomato with both feet and Splattt..all over the blonde.
That's quite the excellent story! I would have been laughing my tail off
Someday, everything is gonna be diff'rent
When I paint my masterpiece.
