MEDIAEVAL PEASANT GARB

Right after lunchtime the man who only dates psychopathic female professionals stopped by. Somehow we ended up talking about the hat he wore during Winter, and I think I frightfully offended him by remarking that it was ugly and stupid looking. Which it is. He's proud of it, quite bizarrely. Apparently that was the last bit of fur of that precise hue. I tried to reassure him that there are plenty of cats in Kazakhstan now. They're all over the place and the population has rebounded considerably since Borat emigrated.

For some reason he was not comforted.

It's a very ugly hat.


I'm rather surprised that none of his crazy girlfriends told him. If I were a woman, I would be ashamed to be seen in public anywhere near that hat. Heck, irrespective of gender I do not want to be even proximally associated with it. I would need a Groucho Marx mustache and spectacles mask if. If. If. Double if.

Ladies, do not date cigar smokers. No matter how hot and Latin you might think they look. Demand to see their hats first and then tell them you'll think about it. You 'll thank me.

He's looking a bit ragged around the edges. The nutzo women are wearing him out.

Because of the on-going horrid lunch situation at work, I fixed myself tasty comfort food when I got home. Chicken, cucumbers, rice noodles, with peanut sauce, ginger, curry spices, and fresh chilies. Hence the appropriateness of the illustration above. Which shows scenery nowhere near my place of employment. It's culturally suited to my dinner.


Think about it. Horrid food, ghastly hats, sportsfans, jangled "manly" men, and rabid rightwingers. A little slice of the seventh circle.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================