Last night I found myself engaged in aimless conversation with a young woman wearing one of those tight-fitting, slogan-emblazoned t-shirts: "Find It" this spangly motto demanded, stitched across her black cotton-covered bosom. With all seriousness the woman told me that "Find It" summarized her personal philosophy with extreme precision, hence her reasons for wearing the words on her chest: "It's all out there." she explained, "All you have to do is find it. Yay!"
I did not have the heart to inform her that most people probably connect breasts and invitations to discovery with silver keys, notably the tantalising keys to a woman's boudoir that have been secreted in her fleshy crevice in preparation for candle lit games of romance and seduction. She was undoubtedly an unwitting Nell Gwynn, but it was Monday night and I had no desire to play the King.
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There is an old, wrinkled, bent woman who rides my bus. She wears the best glittery talking t-shirts ever.
"Sweet baby" is my favorite.
Atta girl, grandma!
Posted by: Andraste | June 06, 2006 at 13:34