Crazy Lady, Livin' In A Bag

Thought I'd share a couple of anecdotes about... interesting women I've seen around town.

First:
I'm driving down Wilshire Boulevard, around the posh part with all the fancy office buildings that have expensive boutiques downstairs, near where Rodeo Drive hits. We're stuck in traffic, of course, as it's 4pm on a Friday, but there's an unusual character putting on a bit of a show on the opposite sidewalk. She's wearing tailored sharp black pants, a red jacket, stylish wedges, and a large white church hat. Not only is she dressed like she's going to the Royal Ascot, but she's doing a bit of a dance as well. Standing in one spot she's windmilling her arms in circles, and starts whooping and hollering before pointing out particular cars and doing a little booty shake. It sort of looks like she's won the lottery and is trying to tell passing drivers that she's going to share some of the money with them -- but without words. You gotta love it when the rich do interpretive dance.

Second:
Today, I'm coming up on the major crosswalk near my apartment, with not enough time to make it across in the current light cycle ("8... 7... 6..." flashes the red forbidding hand). There's a big tan SUV turning left and some people crossing the street, so it waits, halfway through it's turn, pointed at the crosswalk. The students ignore it and continue their walk towards campus, but one woman in particular takes exception. She brandishes her holey umbrella at the offending car on this sunny day, pausing in her walk and poking said instrument angrily at the SUV. The take-home message, I believe, is not to rush a woman who crosses the street, especially not one with a pretty blue 90s frock on over her jeans, two large, full plastic bags, and an injured brown umbrella. Be duly warned.

That's it, really, although I feel I really must recommend the song on which this post's title is based: "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash. Great old Hip-Hop tune.