I went back to Ohio last weekend to visit my parents. And, god bless her, Stevie went with me. (Also along for the ride, at least as far as Eaton, was the rapidly recuperating B.L. Thompson.) The visit was mostly uneventful if, as usual, far too guilt-inducing, but there was a trip to the mall that reminded me that sometimes it's okay to feel like a big city snob. In the span of 45 minutes I saw:
• A heavily pregnant woman who decided that it was still okay to wear her tight, pink, pre-pregnancy pants so long as she kept them unzipped at the waist.
• An obese sexually indeterminate teen, I'd say about 15-years-old, with hair that looked like a '70s shag left to go to seed walk into the food court, put his/her hand to his mouth and throw up then look at his/her mom in confusion as to what to do next.
• A beer-gutted, goateed biker type pushing a stroller and wearing a t-shirt reading "I [Heart] BJ's". I'm guessing the apostrophe was accidental, but it does present some intriguing possibilities.
Then, on the way back, we saw the awesomest of all awesome things at a random gas station in Indiana. This:
And, please note, that's not grain in the image. The van is covered in an Astro-turf like carpeting. Shine on you crazy diamond.
No comments:
Post a Comment