Ironic tee-shirts:
1) Middle aged man. Greasy, long, curly hair. Fat. Tight tee shirt. What does it say? Sexsi. A Pepsi parody shirt.
Looked like this: http://www.greenturtle.com/Funny/Parody/Sexsi-T-Shirt-1307/
We crossed the street at the same time. I muffled a laugh. He looked like he wouldn't hesitate to punch a woman. Didn't fancy a fight.
2) Old man in a baseball cap, jeans and a D&B shirt, riding his bike. My first reaction? Why did he purchase a Dolce and Gabbana tee. He rode slow enough for me to read the Dolce and Banana slogan.
He wasn't wearing a helmet. And he was riding on the sidewalk. Why do so many adults get away with doing this in London?
3) Didn't involve an ironic tee shirt, and wasn't really funny but I'll include it anyway:
I took five minutes to duck into a pub I've been curious about and use the internet. Had to finish something. The pub is named after a literary classic and looks... well... nice. (Unlike most of the pubs in the neighborhood). I went in with an agenda. I needed five minutes of wifi and I wanted a drink. A scarce commodity as my funds are limited and I live with two non-drinkers.
I bought an excessively priced cocktail because it seemed like it would be delicious, and again, I never have them. It turns out you need a local phone to register for internet. No go. Don't have that. Annoying. The bar tender told me it would work. I say, well I guess I'll still enjoy my mojito. He felt bad. He gave me his username and password. Cool of him. I guess I seemed harmless enough. I should have moved to a corner table but the bar seemed more amusing.
Annoying older man sits near me. He's either drunk or naturally annoying. He calls over the bartender. Asks his name. Makes sure everyone in the bar knows he's the big man in the house. He orders what he presents as critically fancy drinks. I'm pretty sure they were whiskey cokes. Big deal. His sons arrive. They're my age. They drink the whiskey cokes then mysteriously disappear. He banters with me for a bit. Seems harmless enough.
Then he asks me, "No offense intended, but what's wrong with you? Why's a nice young lady like yourself at a pub without a man? It's dangerous. I mean I'm with my two young sons, what's wrong with you? Do you work 24-7? I bet you work 24-7 and don't have time for a man? Why?"
Normally I have thick skin. And whatever. Like I care what some (at least pretending to be) excessively wealthy, obnoxious old man thinks. However, I was annoyed. After two days of procrastinating I had hit my stride and was finally getting my work done, and then this man has to ruin the moment by... I don't know... talking to me?
I thought whatever, I'll ignore him or move to a table. But then I heard him call the bartender over and say "Respectfully and professionally, why do you think..." and started on what he saw as my "situation." Boom. Working mood over. Left the pub and went home for dinner. First experience at an English bar alone? Delicious drink. Good service. Shitty company.
4) This involves neither an old man nor an ironic tee shirt, but why not carry on with the anarchy and include a story about a pigeon?
I was running to a bus stop and a bird flew directly in front of me and almost hit me in the face. Both me and the woman beside me screamed. London has such lovely opportunities to bond with strangers.
Until next time.
The End.
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