Please forgive me for hiding under a blanket, but I have something worrying to tell you:
I see rude people.
They’re walking around like regular people. They don’t know they’re rude. They’re everywhere…
And right now, my mood is summed up by the words “stabbity”, “stab” and “stab”!!! >:(((((
In the past few days, I have had the misfortune to encounter these assets to society:
I understand that they attract more than a few glances (and outright stares), and they are sometimes a good conversation-starter (weirdly it’s almost always children and little old ladies who like them!) but this was something else:
I was looking at the pretty gardens at the Eden Project (that’s another post), when a man walked up next to me with two young children and extended his index finger…
“Hey, hey kids! Look at that woman’s shoes! Aren’t they strange- she’s so tall in them. They’re like stilts! Maybe she keeps her lunch in them.”
It was at this point in my speechless dumbfounded fog that remembered I have a voice:
“Excuse me, maybe her father taught her that it’s rude to point at total strangers!”
He gave a nervous giggle and backed off, saying to his children “I don’t think she liked me talking about her shoes“
No, fool man!!! I have no problem discussing my attire but I don’t like being talked about as if I’m an exhibit in a zoo! Sadly by the time the above sentence had taken shape in my brain, he had rapidly turned a corner and I was left with some dust and the refrains of his children singing “poo-poo-poo-poo…..”
Isn’t it pretty??
I was posing, pretending to be a dryad while watching the deer on the other side of a little fence- and occasionally making a mad dash for my phone so I could take pictures of the buzzards and red kites circling overhead. When it was lunchtime, I dressed and dived head-first into my sandwich bag, oblivious to the outside world… until I heard the words “you don’t have to. She’ll be fine”. The photographer (who was very nice), was talking to a man by the fence and both were now walking toward me holding cameras.
Strange man, trousers up to his armpits: Hi there, I just wanted to apologise for interrupting your shoot.
Me: No problem.
SM,TUTHA: I couldn’t possibly… *waves camera*
Me: (looking at camera) I’m really sorry- I’m working today but here’s my business card. You can book your own shoot with me.
SM, TUTHA: Oh please? Just a close-up?
Photographer: Not appropriate!
Me: *assuming he means “just a quick headshot against a tree”* Sorrry, no.
SM, TUTHA: *starts to walk away, then comes back* Pretty pretty please? Just a little close-up?
It turns out I was wrong. He wasn’t holding a camera- he was holding binoculars. The “little close-up” he wanted was of my BOOBS!!!
He has my business card…
Which links to my website…
Which links to my blog.
Dear rude creepy man channelling Simon Cowell, you are lucky I took your binoculars for a camera. Had I realised what you were really after, you would have lost an arm.
#3 Of mice and morons…
I wanted to call this one “pig”, but an old friend’s voice is echoing in my head: “pigs are intelligent and sensitive creatures- and you’re insulting them!”
On my first day off modelling in a while, I went to bounce around the New-Age shop. I was choosing incense when I heard a gasp from around the side, where there are replicas of neolithic deities and Sheela-na-Gigs. I guessed this was the source of the customer’s horror. Nope- earwigging on the conversation, the source of the outrage was a tarot set (not pornographic, just aimed at gay people).
The… creature… stormed out of the door amid a loud and obvious rant about “tarot sets for queens” (sadly, I can’t convey online the way in which the last word was spat but I assure you a king cobra has less venom.)
I have come across misguided religious people before, but this was something else. Maybe the gentleman doth protest too much? I don’t know- but as a bisexual woman, homophobia makes me SO angry and when I’m angry, tears of rage come like a very embarrassing tidal wave. Thanks to my friends for their concern and especially to Anita for taking care of me.
At least the encounter has given me the kick up the butt I needed to get reviewing the film “Milk” for a magazine.
A conversation in the shop concluded that the man’s karmic retribution should be a rebirth in the form of one of those tiny mice farmed to be killed and fed to pet boa-constrictors.
As an antidote to all the rudeness, I have some photos from Barcelona Fetish Weekend, which was a fantastic event, full of lovely friendly people. I don’t think I heard any nastiness in the whole three days! These photos are by Jesus Sevilla, featuring the lovely dress HMSlatex lent me for the occasion!
Hair/Make-up by me.