(no subject)
From my office at work, I can see what's going on in the teller lineup, watch the customers, just generally keep an eye out and make sure all is going well. A rather... er... unkempt... looking couple came in this morning, and they seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty keeping their hands off each other. He was tall, thin, dirty, and sporting charming flannel shorts, white socks hiked up to his knees, and sandals. She was short, spheroid, dirty, and clad in a daring assortment of colours best reserved for highlighter pens.
After all but making out in the lineup, they got up to the counter. I couldn't hear what was said, but the lady decided to head elsewhere. After a kiss and a little grab of his butt, she headed out. She had not been gone four seconds -- and indeed she was barely out of arms reach -- when the fellow began to ogle the girl at the next wicket beside him.
I should point out that this couple was not young. I would place them in their early-to-mid-forties, and they both looked like they were reluctant to leave the 80s behind. Both had the big hair going on -- his bordering on a mullet, but not quite there yet. He also had the big 80's aviator sunglasses, and the perfectly appropriate molestache.
I couldn't see the girl he was ogling because of the assortment of obstacles in my way, but the fellow was not even being subtle. I, of course, can't be certain where he was staring, but through complex triangulation -- and the simple coincidence of being male myself -- I was able to narrow it down to either her breasts or her belt-buckle. Since I could not see the girl, with the exception of a bit of her head, I didn't know if there was anything to stare at.
After a moment or two of watching him outright stare down at her, the girl finally finished her business at the wicket and walked towards my office. I promptly noticed two things, and not necessarily in this order, although probably:
• One, that the shirt she was wearing was one deep breath away from exposing her to the entire world. It was cut so damn low that it tiptoed the borderline between where the laws of physics will allow it to remain in place.
• Two, that she appeared to be in the age range between eleven and thirteen.
I'm not sure which aspect of that disturbed me more, the creepy molestache-man staring intently at said 12-year-old jubblies, or the fact that said 12-year-old was flouncing around showing them off in the first place.
I suspect it was some combination of the both.
Nonetheless, I was left feeling dirty, and had to come home to scrub myself clean. Bleah.
I think I really am getting old.
After all but making out in the lineup, they got up to the counter. I couldn't hear what was said, but the lady decided to head elsewhere. After a kiss and a little grab of his butt, she headed out. She had not been gone four seconds -- and indeed she was barely out of arms reach -- when the fellow began to ogle the girl at the next wicket beside him.
I should point out that this couple was not young. I would place them in their early-to-mid-forties, and they both looked like they were reluctant to leave the 80s behind. Both had the big hair going on -- his bordering on a mullet, but not quite there yet. He also had the big 80's aviator sunglasses, and the perfectly appropriate molestache.
I couldn't see the girl he was ogling because of the assortment of obstacles in my way, but the fellow was not even being subtle. I, of course, can't be certain where he was staring, but through complex triangulation -- and the simple coincidence of being male myself -- I was able to narrow it down to either her breasts or her belt-buckle. Since I could not see the girl, with the exception of a bit of her head, I didn't know if there was anything to stare at.
After a moment or two of watching him outright stare down at her, the girl finally finished her business at the wicket and walked towards my office. I promptly noticed two things, and not necessarily in this order, although probably:
• One, that the shirt she was wearing was one deep breath away from exposing her to the entire world. It was cut so damn low that it tiptoed the borderline between where the laws of physics will allow it to remain in place.
• Two, that she appeared to be in the age range between eleven and thirteen.
I'm not sure which aspect of that disturbed me more, the creepy molestache-man staring intently at said 12-year-old jubblies, or the fact that said 12-year-old was flouncing around showing them off in the first place.
I suspect it was some combination of the both.
Nonetheless, I was left feeling dirty, and had to come home to scrub myself clean. Bleah.
I think I really am getting old.