Friday, August 19, 2005

Park People

Occasionally, Young Stud and I will take a break in the park near Company X. It’s one of my favorite places to break when I’m wasting company time trying to clear my head from a hard day’s work.

I find the lovely people freak show entertaining.

Everyday the urban daycare across the street brings the babies who don’t get to play outside on play equipment or tricycles or in sandboxes (due to being held hostage in a building downtown), out to the park to run and scream.

I’m not kidding. They run around in circles like maniacs. It’s like an improvisational dance – they don’t know exactly what they are doing next, but they’re out there doing it nonetheless.

Quite honestly, it’s very cute. These kids are only two or three years old. All holding hands as they walk to the park and all so cute you could watch them watching you, all day long.

Then there are the older skateboarding boys teaching their younger brothers how to deface property at a young age. I know, I know, skateboarding isn’t a crime. I agree, but if I were a business owner, I’d find out the addresses of those kids and go to their houses and toss their bedrooms or scratch up their bikes or something.

Whatever happened to skateboard parks?

Anyhoo, the last couple of days there has been a woman meandering through the park that I’ve found interesting. Not interesting in a good way but in a “wow, that woman is kind of strange” way.

Today she had on dress slacks and sneakers.

Her waist-length, wavy hair is unruly and unkempt. There are no signs that she has a stylist to guide her. She has a thin build and a slight figure (sort of). She just doesn’t appear to have anyone to direct her to the right places, i.e., the MAC counter at Nordies or to a salon.

She appears to be comfortable in her own skin which is great.

She doesn’t appear to wear makeup. I watched her sit on the bench and veg for a few minutes. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a compact. No big deal - most woman carry a compact – even out skin tones, dull any shine you might get.

But once she had the compact open she took out the pad, applied product to it and began whacking herself on the face. I’m not talking about gently applying the powder and smoothing it out. I’m talking about a full-on smack down. I’m not sure how much powder she applied to the pad before she started this event, but apparently she thought it was enough to cover half her face.

Then she’d load that sucker up and proceed to bat the hell out of the other side of her face. It was like watching an episode of I Love Lucy without Lucille Ball, well, or the comedy.

When she came out to the park yesterday, Young Stud and I noticed her. As the woman approached the bench I asked, “Well, do you think she’s going to do it today?” We both sat there wondering.

I watched her for a few moments and then turned away. Mid-sentence with Young Stud and he interrupted me to say, “There she goes.” I watched in awe sharing my ongoing diatribe with Young Stud. I told him it’s as though she’s watched too many old movies or something.

I found myself wanting to give her advice but there is absolutely no way to walk up to a complete stranger and say, “Hey, you’re doing that wrong. Let me show you.” Or better yet, I could walk up and give her the business card of my make-up consultant at Nordies. Yeah, I’m thinkin’ not so much on that idea either.

Well, if I can’t give her advice then I wish I could get close enough to actually see the powder on her face. I’m not a mean spirited person, but that ought to be good for a giggle – in a oh-that’s-kind-of-sad sort of way.

Then there are the street kids that hang out near a fountain here in downtown Portland. I was having lunch with Brown Eyes one afternoon and we observed a group of young under-achievers people all hanging out, smoking, sleeping, and talking in the mid-day sun. Speaking of disheveled hair. Yikes.

As I sat there worried I might see something come crawling out this chick's nasty-ass hair, I realized there was a rat sitting on this girl's shoulder. Somehow it didn’t surprise me.

The saddest thing of all was this young, rat-wearing girl stood up and walked down the path in front of me. Upon further observation, I realized she was stacked. She had the perfect breasts. The rack I had always dreamed of. Full, perfectly shaped and exactly the right size.

I turned to Brown Eyes and asked him where was the justice in the world. I’m a good, decent, loving person. I do right by people. All I’ve ever wanted was a nice full rack but no… Freaky rat-wearing chick with the blonde, matted hair and the nasty clothes gets ‘em. What’s up with THAT?!


It isn’t enough I have two sisters that are stacked also. I walk around with my C cup breasts and they go cruising through life with their D’s and their double D’s… Bitches. It isn’t enough I’ve lived a life of jealousy with my own sisters – now I’ve stooped to being jealous of a street person with nice tits!

Double grrrrr.

Face it, how many people do each of us work with that are a walking clothes tragedy or a make-up faux pas just crying for help? We see it every day…I’m just mouthy enough to write about it.

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