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anneedmonds · 4 years

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Bandit Crab

After twelve weeks of complete isolation I decided to go to the post office to do some urgent returns. (I actually had to send back some clothes I had ordered and never unboxed. Because who needs clothes in a lockdown? Not I, apparently. Apart from a few special occasions, I’ve almost worn the same two outfits on rotation; the first a dress that looks like a sack, the second a pair of shorts that have taken on the actual shape of my arse, so that when I remove them they stand up proud upon the rug, and an old t-shirt that has holes in the armpits. For chillier moments, both outfits have been worn beneath the world’s ugliest cardigan.)

So I went to the post office, which is buried deep within a village shop so tiny, and so crammed full with shelves and carousels and whatnot, that it’s almost impossible to walk through it without touching anything. Which doesn’t bode well for social distancing compliance. And I have to admit I was concerned about my visit, having heard tales of people completely ignoring all distancing guidelines now that we’re allowed to fire up the BBQ and – er – play golf; what would I be confronted with? In my mind, the world had gone rogue whilst I was locked inside – it would be a Mad Max scenario, with modified sand buggies revving around the country lanes, rams’ horns stuck to the bumpers and post-apocalyptic flesh-eating zombies hanging out of the open windows.

It was fine though. At the start, at least. There was a “queueing system” outside of the shop door, so I casually merged myself into it, trying desperately to look like someone who had been outside of their house before. For some reason my legs didn’t quite work properly – they felt like cotton reels threaded onto pieces of elastic, which I think was nerves, but nevertheless made me look like a newly-born Pinocchio.

Unfortunately, abiding by the two metres rule meant that I had to position myself almost in the middle of the road, for there was no place to stand to the left or right of the queue that was prominent or obvious enough to signal my presence to queue newcomers. Queuecomers. And that’s important, isn’t it? In a country where we are borderline obsessed with queue etiquette, it’s essential that everybody – everybody – knows that you are, in fact, in said queue. This is usually conveyed with a nod and a smile and a small, pointless, forwards or backwards movement, just a very slight one, to draw attention to your presence.

In this case, there was nobody in line after me – yet! – but still, I had to stand my ground. There’s an art to queuing, after all, and one of the finest skills is ensuring that everyone who joins the queue after you knows exactly where you rank. But here was my first testing quandary/moral dilemma: to stand in the road, or risk weakening my queue presence by tucking myself into the nook-in-the-wall where the drainpipe runs down? To lose queue-face, or to be flattened by a DPD van?

The choice is yours!

In the end I opted for a bit of a compromise, darting in and out of the road like a demented badger. It was confusing for the drivers. I had more than one beep. A few motorists tried to wave me across, which meant I had to do the universal sign language for “NO! I’M NOT CROSSING!”

One mimed exchange was so painful that I just gave in and crossed the road, only to almost be hit by a fast-moving bike when I did an about to turn and crossed back again, such was my haste not to lose my earned place in the queue.

I lived to tell the tale, thankfully: it was inside the shop that everything went to pieces. I just didn’t have any experience in this social distancing thing – quite literally no experience at all. I hadn’t built up any etiquette, I hadn’t seen social distancing techniques in action: it was all entirely foreign to me. A new language. And so I entered the shop almost apologetically, creeping in an exaggerated, comedy burglar knee-lift knee-lift toe-point hop! kind of way. Bear in mind I was wearing a silk kerchief as a face mask and eyeshadow on only one eye and that I hadn’t properly arranged my nipples beneath my top so that one was about four inches higher than the other: I was quite the picture.

(Does anyone else now have to arrange their nipples to ensure levelness? It’s a right faff! If I just juggle them into position, you can guarantee that one nip will be far higher than the other, looking like a peanut has been stowed away for safe keeping. Gone are the days when they both just fell into place, like delicately-balanced teardrops.)

So in I went, my tote containing the parcels slung over my back like a swag bag, trying to greet the shopkeeper and post office man with just the joy in my eyes. Difficult to do. And then I got to the counter and it was as though a giant stopper had been removed from my brain, because the talking started. It started and I just couldn’t stop.

“I have some parcel returns! How are you? This is weird isn’t it? What happens to the protective screen once you don’t need it anymore, it would make great secondary glazing hahaha! So how many people a day come in do you think, I just need proof of postage for that one, thankfully they pay for the returns otherwise I’d be bankrupt because I pretty much do all my shopping online now, I expect most people do, which is good in some ways but not great in others. Alexa Chung was in here the other day wasn’t she? Did you serve her or do you know who she is, what is she doing here, everyone says you’re the man to ask because you know all the gossip!”

Honestly. The phrase verbal diarrhoea doesn’t even cover it. It was dysentery. Thank God for the protective screens, that’s all I can say. Even with the perspex barrier in place the shop volunteers (yes, they volunteer to serve morons like me, the mind boggles) were ducking beneath the counter, such was the ferocity of my stream of absolute crap.

…

“Please pop the parcel on the scales,” said the post office volunteer, which put an end to my impromptu monologue. There was a moment of awkward silence as he printed out the labels and busied himself with sticking them to the jiffy bag but then, scandal, a second customer entered the shop! Ignoring the queueing system and the one-in-one-out rule! They just marched straight up to the counter beside me and plonked down a loaf of bread.

How could I have been prepared for such a flouting of the guidelines? I’d prepared myself so well. Tied a silken scarf around my face like a luxury goods version of Butch Cassidy, queued outside on the road, to my absolute peril, and now – just as casual as you like – I was faced with a potential super-spreader. What’s the protocol for that then?

My parcel-returning finished, I was presented with the challenge of exiting the shop without going closer to the perpetrator than the prescribed two metres. Seeing as though the entire shop is around four metres square, I saw that it was impossible. It was like one of those Mensa puzzles they give to particularly bright children at primary school (just me? Oh lol! Sorry!) where you have to move the pieces about to get the square to the exit. Or something.

Anyway, the woman with the bread wasn’t bothered about distancing herself whatsoever and had started a conversation about deer hounds, so I was forced to plan my escape around her. But then the worst thing of all happened: she decided to use the post office counter! WHERE I WAS ALREADY STANDING!

“Excuse me,” she smiled. “If you’ve finished, I’ll just slide on over.”

Well this was a conundrum. The sliding over part sounded vaguely terrifying, but the bigger problem was where to put my body. I couldn’t very well disappear myself and there was no clear path past the super-sliding spreader – even without social distancing the passing of the two ships would have been tight.

She began her slide. What to do? Crash backwards through the bank of freshly baked goods? Send the Bakewells scattering, the sausage rolls tumbling from their pastry pyramid? Or should I Klinsmann-dive sideways over the tower of eggs and the boxes of potatoes? Neither option was favourable – it was the sort of evasive action you’d take if you were about to be steamrollered by an out of control lorry. Overkill, it could be labelled.

I settled, instead, for panic. I manically sidestepped one way and then the other, waving my hands in the air, looking for all the world like a crab on amphetamines. A bandit crab, complete with face mask, absolutely off its shellfishy tits, dancing to a song only it could hear.

The slider-spreader pressed herself closer to the counter, possibly out of sheer terror and I managed to side-crab my way past the baked goods and out towards the door. Another customer was about to enter, again flagrant disregard for the rules, but backed out with a look of surprise and horror as they saw the human bandit-crab side-lunging towards the exit. One eyeshadow’d, wonky-nipped, neckerchief slipping to reveal a mean, anxious mouth: small children wept, a border terrier whimpered, a man parking his bicycle stealthily hooked his leg back over the saddle and pedalled away to safety.

Haven’t been in to the shops again, obviously. You? How’s your lockdown going?

Photo by Felipe Portella on Unsplash

The post Bandit Crab appeared first on A Model Recommends.

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atypical60 · 8 years

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I know. I’m late to the party. But the sad truth is, I’ve been sick since Sunday evening with the worst stomach bug of all time. Ugh. I only got to watch some of the Grammy’s because I was in the bathroom most of the night.

The only thing getting cuddled in Chateau Bonaparte was my stomach and the ceramic throne in the bathroom!

Honestly, it felt so good to kneel on the tiled floor and hug the cold ceramic of my toilet bowl when I wasn’t sitting on it. That outta give you an idea of how I spent the past couple of days!

Anyway, I just got back from the doctor. Bonaparte literally forced me to go. I think it was because he was tired of hearing me moan “Ohhhhhh. My stomach. I hope this isn’t serious!”

I mean that literally and figuratively!

Honest to God. The thought of eating is making me more ill thank I am, but the good doctor gave me a prescription to ward off the nausea so that I could keep something in my gut. And the only food item I want right now is Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. It’s been my “sick” comfort food since I was a child.

I’m eating this as I write..

I’m getting off track here.

This is about Grammy. And not my Grammy.

My real-life Grammy. In her wedding dress. Beyonce could have worn my grandmother’s wedding headpiece and would have looked much better!

It’s about the Grammy Awards, which, in my opinion, could very well be the reason I was so sick!

Ugh. I believe that watching E!’s “On the Red Carpet” made me ill from the get go. Kriss Jenner and that dumb butch hairdo of hers! And that dress–it is absolutely awful! Why does Ryan Seacrest insist on having this doyenne of bad taste hosting a red carpet event? Brad Goreski–I’m appalled that you would wear such a hideous jacket. And Kristin Cavallari–one false move and your girls are going to escape big time!

OK—so the music industry has a bit more creativity than, say the film or TV industries. And I guess that’s why people who attend feel as though they have to dress a bit more eccentric or differently.

I get that. I really do. But there is a fine line between dressing differently or more creatively and coming off as looking downright silly. It’s about fit. It’s about what looks good or even great on you.

So, let’s just take a look at some of the fashions I happened to see when I wasn’t in the bathroom!

I had just exited the bathroom and Bonaparte was cleaning my glasses when Beyonce was doing her number. I swear from far away I thought I was watching a Novena to the Blessed Mother. I knelt down before the TV and started chanting “Oh Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee”. Then Bonaparte gave me my glasses and I realized Queen Bee just wanted to look like the old-school Christmas tree toppers we had when we were kids! Who wore it best? Why the cute little pug on the right! And speaking of JLo…

…she needs to come up with a new signature pose. I’m sick and tired of that dopey “come hither” look her face makes in every single pose. And you may want to change it up from the Angelina Jolie pose. I swear JLo will be a wrinkly 80 year old with lips that sag down to her chest and she’ll still pose with that dopey face!

Shoes notwithstanding, Heidi Klum gets my vote for best dressed. Had two inches been added to the hem, and had she worn silver pointy-toed stilettos with toe cleavage, this would be my favorite red carpet look of all time! I love the simple cut of the dress and I LOVE the length of the sleeves.Her earrings and makeup! She rocked it!

Laverne Cox almost got it right! The dress is a weird length. It should have been shorter. Just at the knees. She has great legs! And the cut-out sides give the dress a very rocker type vibe while still maintaining fashionable taste! Her eye makeup is great too! I love Laverne!

I was born in 1955. In the early to mid-1960’s we practically lived on these Funny Face drinks. That’s probably one of the reasons I lost most of my hair. Anyway, all I could think of when I saw Taraji P. Henson in that getup was Goofy Grape! Henson is cute as a button and she could have gone with something a little edgy without looking ridiculous. The dress doesn’t even fit! The fabric looks sloppy. When will these celebrities ever learn?

Rihanna. RiRi. You are one of the most beautiful women in the world. You can wear just about anything. So then, can you explain just why you put on something that wore YOU? I’ll admit, the black and orange put me in a very sentimental mood for those wax whistles that we used to get at Halloweeen time! That skirt looks like the umbrella you sang about!

I actually loved the simple and streamlined cut of the suit that Chance the Rapper wore. But–did your mother ever tell you it was not proper to wear a hat indoors? Well, I’m telling you now. Get rid of the hat when you are inside a building!!!

I have no idea who this young woman is. But she has my vote as one of the Grammy Best Dressed! Her gown is fresh and youthful and the color is gorgeous on her. In fact, if she was cross-eyed, she would remind me of a young ME! I can’t get enough of this dress! The dropped waist is so flattering! And she’s a bit modest on top without looking fundie! Most of the celebrities at the Grammy’s could take a lesson from her! Absolutely perfect!

Why did Beyonce and Jay Z take their daughter to the Grammy Awards! I KNOW! I KNOW! They didn’t want Solange to be their plus-one at the after parties so by bringing Blue Ivy, they had a great excuse for Solange to babysit! Poor Blue Ivy! Mommy and Daddy should have dressed you in a blue suit..that pink looks like Pepto Bismol! Props to Mr. Carter for the way he looks so lovingly at his daughter! It’s so sweet!

…speaking of Solange…she looked like….

The Golden Ticket from Willie Wonka!

Carrie Underwood needs a new stylist. NOW! It was bad enough she looked like chewed up bubble gum at the Golden Globes, but now she has a dress that not only looks like a newly used tampon, it is an old lady bar mitzvah dress. I don’t even think Joan Rivers would have worn it…

This is red done right! Faith Hill nailed another “Best Dressed”. It is a beautiful shade of red. The lines are simple and even with the little cut out, it was discreet. And the shoes! Oh God–I can’t even! I WANT those shoes! Well done Ms. Hill!

She may be “zuh gret-ess singuhr” but Ms. Dion is far from the greatest dresser. She’s only 48. She’s young. She looks older than me–and I’m old! She needs to wear her hair down and layered to soften her angular structure. The dress. It’s too low-cut for a flat-chested woman. What is WITH these low cut dresses anyway? And while I’m at it–what’s with the ankle strap shoes. Faith Hill is the only one to rock those ankle straps..Celine Dion looks more like a…

…glittery St. Patrick’s Day hat! Save that shade o’ green for March 17th!

I love Adele. And this pea-soup green frock did nothing to enhance her beautiful curves. That waistband makes her titties look supersized and saggy. She needs a princess cut. Slightly fitted. She needs boning in the chest area to hold those ta-ta’s up. The dress is too long–it looks sloppy. Adele was meant for black dresses. She needs a simple dress because that voice of her’s is what draws attention! I”m glad she swept the Grammys!

Chrissy Teigen. No. This isn’t working. SHE is someone who needs to show a bit more skin! But not the way this dress shows it. She looks like an extra from a vampire movie! I’m kind of surprised because she usually gets it right. Her makeup looks horrible too. What happened Chrissy? You better look more like your fashionable self at the Oscars!

I’m guessing Cee Lo was channeling his inner Pussy Galore from Goldfinger. And this one in the middle. Wearing 45’s slogan? WTF? THAT was what really made me sick. Who is this Girl Crush on the far right? That dress! How the hell did she sit down or go to the bathroom? Well, I can honestly say she has more balls than Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan!

What’s with the unbottoned shirt? What’s with the ill-fitting pj bottoms? What’s with the awful sleeves? I think this one was trying to channel her inner…

…..Sick Pense look! Same color of blue. Same lousy fit!

I need to say something about this Tom Ford dress that Katy Perry wore. I KNOW this dress did not get a lot of love. However, if you want to be edgy and different without looking clownish, THIS is the way to do it. Naturally, I have a bit of commentary on this dress. *Sigh* sometimes I wish gay designers would be more in touch with their feminine sides. Why? I’ll show you…

Katy Perry has the best set of Ta-ta’s on earth. In fact, if I ever hit it big in the lottery, I’m taking a photo of her in a low-cut dress to a plastic surgeon. I’m going to tell him that I want HER ta-tas! They are spectacular and they are real! Anyway, back to the dress. I would give her a ballet scooped neckline so that her cleavage would be a focal point. Then I would cut the sleeves to a long short sleeve. Tom–are you listening? Thank you! Might I also add, Katy Perry ALWAYS has THE best made-up face! Her makeup is never less than perfect!

This is NOT good cleavage. At all. Lady Gaga looks like she wore the wrong sized bra and reached up to a top shelf to grab something. Girls–hasn’t that happened to you? You know. You reach for something and your bra rides up in the front? Even for Lady Gaga who can basically get away with anything outrageous, the bottom tit look is just ugly!

Katy Perry sure knows how to show bosom! They are the envy of us all! Even though this suit DID remind me of piano keys!

That’s about it. I ended up falling asleep because I was so violently ill. I couldn’t even make it out of bed yesterday to write this so I know I’m getting much better!

Did you watch the Grammy Awards? Did you have a favorite look? Did you have a look that you thought was just awful. Tell me!!

And…. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

One of my favorite songs about love. John Mayer with Katy Perry “Who You Love”. (I hope they get back together!!!)

Atypical60 Takes a Look at Grammy Fashions! I know. I’m late to the party. But the sad truth is, I’ve been sick since Sunday evening with…

#Fashion #Grammy Awards #Humor

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