Style?

Sunshine brings out the more than a few ladies (gentlemen too) of questionable fashion and style, don't you agree?

We all know that bright, warm weather will entice people to wear ever smaller amounts of material in an attempt to stay, or look, cool and to gain, through the moderate toasting of the skin, a glamorous or sexy appearance.

But in doing so, all sense of style seems to be casually cast aside leaving the wearer to become what I can only describe as Casualties of Wear!

We've all seen those women with the boob-tubes that are too small and tight and show the straps of bras that are sturdy enough to support the Golden Gate Bridge and a roll (or indeed several rolls) of spare anatomy that was quite possibly the result of an over indulgence of hamburger, pizza and beer, hanging over the stretchiest waistband you have ever seen.
Then we have the middle aged, bulbous men that clad themselves in those long shorts and muscle shirts in an attempt to cling to the last vestiges of youth as it slips through their grubby, often nicotine stained fingers.

Today was one of those days! A sunny day! Twenty-six degrees! It was awful out there!

I was dressed, in case you are interested, in light cotton trousers ... very cool around the 'doo-dahs', if you know what I mean ... and a polo shirt.  It was hot, but I stayed cool ... in more ways than one.

If the sun is shining where you are, I do hope that YOU too made the effort to look decent.

I had to get that off my chest ... but in doing so, I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Bum!!!
 

Miwitchoo?

It was bus day today!

And guess what! Nothing happened! Nothing! Zilch!

We got on ... it moved ... it stopped ... it started ... stopped ... etc. ... we got off!

I was so unimpressed.

Where were the funny grannies? The old men? The good looking young women? Where was the rich source of blog-fodder that I'd become accustomed to?

In stead of enjoying a chuckle/eavesdrop/ogle, I was forced to sit there just looking out of the window.

I mean, c'mon! What kind of a journey is that? I was so bored that I ended up playing the 'Youwitme?' game with my client.

"Youwitme?"

"Yeah!"

"Miwitchoo?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh nooooooooo!"

We also tried the 'Miyourfren?' game, which has a similar format to 'Youwitme?'. Each game terminates with an "Oh nooooooooo!", which is, for want of a better explanation, my clients catchphrase.

It passed the time (forty minutes) even if it did raise one or two eyebrows and at least one audible "You're mad, you are!" from a spotty-faced, nerdy-type teenager.

The return journey was sadly more of the same, with one exception!

Just two stops before we were due to leave the bus, my thoughts were turned to crampons, ropes, and pink mountains as a tall, slim blonde boarded the bus. Her ample bosom caused male heads to turn  and her low cut top, displaying a huge expanse of cleavage, brought forth a mumbling and an occasional tut from some of the female passengers. There was also one "Well, I never!" from a granny near the front of the bus.

The driver, momentarily in love, waited (and watched) until she had negotiated her way by wiggle and
jiggle to a seat.  Up until that point the last passenger boarding at every stop had to endure being catapulted to the back of the bus (whether they wanted to be there or not) by the jerking motion of the bus pulling away from the kerb (you've gotta love a bus driver with a sense of humour!).

As she slinked her way passed us to a seat near the rear, we were briefly engulfed in the passing shadow of her bosom.

My client waved to her.  She waved back.

I just wished that he'd been able to ask for her number!

He would have probably got it too!