Reality

At my Publix sometimes, there is an old, grey haired black gentleman who walks around (well, shuffles more like, seeing as how he's old) the store belting out old blues and spiritual songs. Just singing out loud in his booming, raspy voice. Does this through the whole store and you can hear him wherever you are. It's somehow, eerily awesome. At the very least it drowns out the Collective soul/David Cook crap they play over the speakers. He never bothers anyone, never corners anyone, just walks around. Singing. Not even sure if he buys anything, but doesn't matter.

I went there today to grab something for lunch and he was there. While picking a line that wouldn't take me all friggin' day to get through, I passed a girl in line talking to the women in front of her. She was laughing and making a comment about the guy.

Now, she was cute and all: hair proper color (not blonde) and length (above shoulders), but I'm so sure she was in a position to be giggling at someone for possibly embarrassing themselves in public. You know, at least not when she was 30 (at least) and her skirt barely reached the middle of her thigh. Seriously. I wear shorts that are longer. KG's bathing suit covers more leg.

After 28, you got to let it go honey. Otherwise, we can all see the desperation.