Today I looked nice, but not so much any more

This morning I left the house looking fucking fantastic.

Really, I did my makeup real nice and wore a very simple but pretty, flattering dress.

As I walked to the bus, a really cool looking (but too skinny) young Asian guy in drove past and gave me a big smile and pointed to me and gave me a thumbs up. That was nice. A thumbs up is a nice drive by compliment. It’s not aggressive like shouting something out the window like most asswipes do. It’s just a compliment. I’d like to walk down the street and get high fives, fist bumps and thumbs up instead of leers and growls and vile filthy phrases from the men who approve of my appearance that day. It would be cool, like women in shampoo ads seem to live their lives, walking aroun twirling and skipping and being admired in a non-threatening way.

Anyway then I got to work and as I was opening all the locks and shutters, a really hot guy walked past and gave me a very nice smile indeed, and winked at me and walked past. I was like, damn he was fine. I won’t see him again now, and he was an actual hot guy winking at me… I was too slow, should have smiled back… I hadn’t fully woken up yet. Damn.

As it happens I did see him again quite soon. I went for a quick coffee and walked right past him and his CARDBOARD LIVING AREA set up on the footpath beside the bar, with his dog and his cardboard sign reading “we’re not invisible, we’re hungry!”

James Tiberius Kirk, what a close call. I nearly flirted back with a homeless dude. Oh fuck now seeing him sitting on the grimy old cardboard sheets with his mongrel, yeah he looks homeless… but he didn’t look that homeless when he was winking at me. And what the fuck man, I expect homeless people to be all-consumed by their imediate needs like food shelter and where they’re going to take a crap later, not checking out girls. Anyway. I’ll just take it as a compliment anyway, like I looked so nice, he was roused from his food and shelter crisis by my beauty, and I momentarily distracted him from his miserable existence. He’s not some junkie rapist who’s homeless because he can’t get a job being a convicted rapist, or something. I try to get a better look at him to comfort myself that he doesn’t look homeless, I’m not attracted to the homeless, but he catches me looking so I pretend to be squinting at his sign and walk past realising now I look like a complete dick because I read the sign and didn’t give a fuck.

Then a really crazy, tall and well-built guy in his 30s, broad shoulders…  not bad looking… except he’s batshit insane… walks past and as always, he interrupts his rant at no one in particular (I used to think he was talking hands free but no, he isn’t) to direct some crazy at me, and I have no idea what he’s saying but he’s pissed off with me I think. But he also tells me I’m beautiful before yelling at a woman he passes and making her jump, and walking on down the street ranting and raving about the government and stuff. Seriously this country needs some mental hospitals. They apparently shut down all the nuthouses years ago because they were inhumane, but all the psychos who haven’t killed anyone YET are loose on the streets making me automatically avoid the gaze of everyone I pass and break into an almost run whenever someone I know taps me on the shoulder from behind. Thanks crazies, it’s your fault I have a shitty sexless social life.

So then after my shift, I had promised my sister I would take her to this free concert thing in the plaza, which was supposedly on from 5 to 8, and some harmlessly bad Italian musicians would be playing. I said I’d go with her because she’s a pre-teenager and it’s really surprising how cool people are at that age if you are only spending time with one at a time, and if you know them well, and it’s mad she was just a little kid and now she’s getting attuned to stuff kids don’t understand, and starting to filter her environment for herself, with her own tools, and not just repeat what her mother says like a small child does… and sometimes I forget how young she is. Today I’m like, man this place reeks of… and I realise and stop, shit no, don’t say it reeks of pot, don’t teach your little sister to identify the smell of weed yet, that’s bad corruption of childhood. Just teach her some cool stuff about boys and girls and not letting shit get to you. I manage to keep my shit together mostly but it’s hard because she’s an awesome little person and easy to be around, so my guard is down and some contraband makes it out…

Anyway we made our way to the square and it was baking, roasting… around 30 degrees Celsius… Yellow, pure unfiltered sunlight, a few clouds in the sky all puffy, just highlighting how fucking clear the day was. It was too hot… you could feel the heat from the stone pavement radiating up through your feet and the sun relentlessly cooking your scalp from above. I told my sister concerts all start late, but it was her first concert of any kind and she was nervous about missing anythiing… so we were there on time, and had to stand for about half an hour before the first shitty warm up band. It was a rapper rapping in Italian about being afraid of flying but wanting to go on holidays with his girlfriend, I think. I mean come on, how fucking middle class and trivial can a rapper be? He did two songs, and got a hell of a lot of cheers, but he was the first act so… people were happy just to hear something other than a sound check. And now that I mention people, let me tell you… I was the oldest person there by far, other than one leather-skinned old trollop in lilac shimmer eyeshadow with beef jerky arms and a leopard print boob tube and another unrelated old man who did the same square or line or I don’t know which is which, dance routine for every rap, pop and dance song that played. He “oooo arrred” like a farmer with his fists, I don’t know how to explain the movement other than that, or like the hands of someone taking the piss out of a jogger, or something. And every two or three beats he would do a one-two-three-four with his feet, pointing his toes delicately as he did so. Everyone else was between 14 and 17, and some had beer, and some had pimply backs, and all the girls were half naked and TANNED. And suddenly I felt old and ugly. I looked down at my pasty freckled arms with the hairs that have kind of grown back but stand up on end all the time, for no reason… and I looked at my legs that were grey with city dirt and my legs, my best assets… all hairy as well. You couldn’t notice the hairs except this is direct, unforgiving sunlight. And all around the girls are shiny skinned and have their midrifs showing and can get away with it all and no one has cellulite except the fat girls. And none of the guys are looking at me at all. I d0n’t want a 16 year old guy but they could at least have the decency to be attracted to me in some small way. At least stare for a bit and then look away. No. My sister takes a photo of my and I look at it. Oh fuck I look like a Gremlin. I actually do, I’m hideous. My eye makeup so nice and pretty in the morning has melted down from my eyes and merged with my skin so all the black is under my eyes and my nose is fucking blackhead city and I have a spot on my chin. I sink into depression. I doubt I could even pull a hobo like this.

A fire truck comes along because it’s so fucking hot and people will probably faint, I think, and they hose us down. It was brilliant, except my wet t-shirt boobs were far inferior to the other wet t shirt boobs around me. The water was great though, really refreshing, for like 5 minutes. I still felt super old and ugly. I felt like hiding my face with a bag or something, ashamed of all these young attractive idiots having their visual field interrupted with the eyesore of my corpse-like figure… I wanted to catch their eyes and mutter “I’m sorry.. I thought I was hot too… I used to be… was I? Was I ever hot?” And then start clawing at their skin and cackling “collagen… delicious plump collagen under your brown skin… mine… must eat… must eat young flesh… hahahaha feed! Feed!” Yeah that’s probably every teenager’s worst nightmare.

So I grinned miserably and for the sake of my sister, so tanned and lovely and innocent, I served my time and got through the first time I have ever really felt old, and the umpteenth time I have felt hideously ugly.

And then we got the bus home, and I looked back at the photos from the concert and there is actually a nice one of the two of us, which cheered me up a bit. But still. My ego needs some serious help right now, I haven’t been hit on anyone properly in ages. I want someone who I consider attractive but who is not homeless or insane, or a gypsy, to act like I’m hot stuff for one evening, and then fuck my brains out and then leave, but not because I look shitty in the morning, because he has to go to work or something believable. And then my ego will soar again like a sexy pterodactyl, and all will be well with the world. That’s right, my self worth is entirely dependent on what men think of me. Anything I say contrary to this is mostly LIES. I don’t speak for all women, but who knows, I might be a terrible weak person but it might also be as nearly-universal as picking your nose, masturbating, still being a little impressed with your own farts, smelling the armpits or crotch of clothes to check if they’re dirty or clean… and yeah those are all things anyone will admit to if someone else is admitting to it. If you say “oh gross, I saw Susan pick her nose!” most people will be like “ugh! What a nasty skank!” but if you tell the same people “I was picking my nose pretending to scratch it.” then a lot of people are happy to talk straight and be like “yeah I hate having to pretend to scratch when I just want a good probe around for nose emeralds” Or maybe not.  But I think nose emeralds is as good a place to leave you as any, so good night, and happy nostril rummaging to you all.


3 responses to “Today I looked nice, but not so much any more

  1. MFO one of my favorite things about you is that you always where a dress. Chicks don’t rock enough dresses anymore. Such a shame. I think it adds a whole different level of hotness.

    I never knew all of Europe had such a gypsy problem. I use to work with Bulgarians and they’d always tell me how they’d beat the shit out of them on a daily basis. And whenever I asked, “Don’t you guys feel kind of bad?” They’d stare at me like I had two heads. Never really understood it, but your gypsy cursed homeless people hitting on you has opened my eyes.

    They. Must. Be. Exterminated.

    • I’m wearing a skirt and top today but yeah, fuck pants. Pants are tight and uncomfortable. And people wear dresses OVER jeans. What the fuck? It ruins the nice ass effect of jeans and the nice legs effect of dresses. I don’t get it. Yeah the gypsies are horrible parasites, but people act like you’re Hitler if you try get a casual genocide going. Fucking vermin. What about the children? Won’t somebody think of the children? They aren’t in school, they don’t have running water or proper medicine, and everyone’s like “oh that’s their way of life” well who else gets to raise their children in a third world environment when they live in fucking Europe? Every now and then someone tells me about a story in the news where a gypsy child ran away from home because the parents forced them to beg, and then the cops bring the child back home and it’s back on the streets for you, little gypsy. Dontcha know you’re part of a dying culture? You got to preserve the nobel tradition of being a headlouse on the scalp of society. Oh man it makes me angry.

  2. Pingback: I don’t want no scrub. Scrub is a guy can’t get no love from me (any more, for real this time) « More fucking opinions from someone on the internet.

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