Figuring out clothes
Wearing things is such a bastard. Everybody’s so happy to have the temperature inside buildings sky-high, and seemingly more so when it’s the winter. I can’t keep dealing with this. To go outside and get to places I’ll put on a jacket and be warm but inside places I’ll have to take it off and be encumbered by it to not be too hot. What’s the answer?
As far as I’m concerned, the solution was worked out long ago back when we were schoolkids and used to tie our school sweaters around our waists by the arms when it was too warm. And if it was cold enough to warrant a coat, there were nice secure coat-pegs you could leave it on during the day. I guess what I want really is for trying jumpers around your waist by their arms to not look so ridiculous and also for university to have (possibly named) coat pegs inside lecture rooms.
It’s hassle at gigs as well. Nobody wants to be bundled up in clothes in the middle of a room full of hundreds of dancing bodies. But the walk back to the train station at the end is always an icy choke-hold that can’t be avoided (unless you bring a coat and put it in the cloakroom at venues which a) aren’t always there, b) aren’t always free and c) require you to queue up for ages at the end with all the other chumps who risked taking advantage of the facilities).
Marty McFly’s jacket in the future was able to automatically adjust size. That’s a pretty shitty feature really, but what I’d like is some variation where clothes can adjust how well they insulate you. That would be just fine by me. But until someone works it out, I guess I’ll just resign to be hampered by lugging a jacket around inside or cold because I didn’t bring one out with me.
“Not anti-feminist, but…”
I love overhearing people because I can silently and smugly judge the balls out of them for the awkward shit they say to each other. On the way into university this morning some dude behind me was talking to some girl about his course. Complaining about it, I think. Turns out that after taking a course in politics, he didn’t really like politics. Except for, in his words, “development”, which, to people on undergraduate degrees in the University of Warwick’s Politics department, presumably means something more specific than the common definition of the word. Ultimately, he told her, there wasn’t much to do with development in his current year, just a module called “Development and Gender”.
and that’s less about development and more about gender and I don’t want to sit through a bunch of feminists’ opinions. I’m not anti-feminist but… I just can’t be bothered with all that
By this point I’d had him pegged as more-or-less a tosser and I missed a couple of lines in the conversation that I couldn’t hear over the sound of my involuntary but very powerful eye-rolling. Upon returning to the conversation I caught a line from the girl including the phrase “thorny caress”. The guy jumped on it for some reason with this:
A thorny caress? That’s a very poetic description. A thorny caress like what your grandma gives you.
*AWKWARD SILENCE*
Ha, yeah, sometimes I take things too far!
Sure you do, pal. I had to interject here and I turned around and laughed in his face. “Too far?” I asked him. “What do you mean by that? You want to hear some real inappropriate comments?” They looked pretty perplexed that I’d interrupted them so I carried on. “More like the thorny caress of the rough pubic area of one of your mum’s old friends from school that she used to keep in touch with against your six-year-old cheek as he rakes his sweaty, semi-erect penis across your lips from base to tip, even though he’s meant to be baby-sitting you. All the while, he’s clutching your head between his grimy hands and leering salaciously as he thumbs the tears out of the corners of your eyes, telling you not to say anything to your parents or he’ll have to hurt them and your then three-year-old sister who was curled up naked in the foetal position on his kitchen floor, shuddering and bleeding from his turn molesting her. The thorny caress that you wake up startled to the flashbacks of, drenched in cold sweat and alone in your bed.” Pay attention, guys, because if you want to impress a girl you’ve really got to show them how much better you are than other dudes, especially at this kind of thing.
Well, we’d stopped walking by now and I wasn’t about to stand there while they processed my gloriously-painted scene so I turned away and kept walking, heading to lectures.
I think the moral of the story is: don’t be a dick about gender equality. Maybe?