Friday, January 16, 2004
Mmmm, burger
Or, So what you're saying is, my ass looks fat in these jeans
So the other day I'm hustling along Portage Avenue on my way to get a big salad for lunch. It's freaking cold, the kind of cold that makes exhaust, smoke and voices hang in the air just a bit longer than is strictly necessary. I'm pretty sure this accounts for the clarity of the insult hurled from a passing car.
"Another burger couldn't hurt," a voice says, clear as anything. I don't think I have to tell you it was a male voice.
I look up, and sure enough, some pasty dude is looking my way and rolling up his window with a satisfied look on his face. Was the remark directed at me, someone else? Doesn't matter. This guy was motivated enough to crank his window down in minus a billion weather to register his opinion.
Another burger couldn't hurt. I turn it over in my mind. Undoubtedly an insult, hurled by a dumpy dude driving a car at an admittedly voluptuous woman walking on the sidewalk. At the same time, mmm, burger. Haven't had one of those in ages.
I try to parse the insult. It's somewhat imaginative, for which Hurler gets points. He had to work to hurl it, so that's...something, I guess. But then, imagine being so...what? offended? appalled? affronted? by the look of a stranger that you were compelled to roll your window down and tell them so by shouting across three lanes of traffic.
I try to parse my reaction. Am I blushing? I don't feel hot. Am I angry? Maybe a little, but I'm more curious about Hurler's motivation. I pass a woman whose legs are easily each twice the size of mine. Did Hurler yell at her? Or am I still among the save-able, and therefore worth yelling at, whereas my fatter fellow pedestrian is beyond hope? Should I, in some bizarre way, be flattered? I'm not. Perhaps I'm just ungrateful.
Later, much later, I'm walking through Portage Place on my way to check out the Y with Meag. As we stroll along, a young guy in oversized hip-hop togs comes toward us. "Lookin' goooooddddd tonight ladies. Lookin' very good." Oh, the mixed messages. Still, I'm more inclined to take this guy's word for it. He's motivated by...well, who knows what he's motivated by. But he doesn't seem as mad as Hurler. Maybe the Hurler was just hungry, that can make a guy cranky. But you know, another burger couldn't hurt.
Or, So what you're saying is, my ass looks fat in these jeans
So the other day I'm hustling along Portage Avenue on my way to get a big salad for lunch. It's freaking cold, the kind of cold that makes exhaust, smoke and voices hang in the air just a bit longer than is strictly necessary. I'm pretty sure this accounts for the clarity of the insult hurled from a passing car.
"Another burger couldn't hurt," a voice says, clear as anything. I don't think I have to tell you it was a male voice.
I look up, and sure enough, some pasty dude is looking my way and rolling up his window with a satisfied look on his face. Was the remark directed at me, someone else? Doesn't matter. This guy was motivated enough to crank his window down in minus a billion weather to register his opinion.
Another burger couldn't hurt. I turn it over in my mind. Undoubtedly an insult, hurled by a dumpy dude driving a car at an admittedly voluptuous woman walking on the sidewalk. At the same time, mmm, burger. Haven't had one of those in ages.
I try to parse the insult. It's somewhat imaginative, for which Hurler gets points. He had to work to hurl it, so that's...something, I guess. But then, imagine being so...what? offended? appalled? affronted? by the look of a stranger that you were compelled to roll your window down and tell them so by shouting across three lanes of traffic.
I try to parse my reaction. Am I blushing? I don't feel hot. Am I angry? Maybe a little, but I'm more curious about Hurler's motivation. I pass a woman whose legs are easily each twice the size of mine. Did Hurler yell at her? Or am I still among the save-able, and therefore worth yelling at, whereas my fatter fellow pedestrian is beyond hope? Should I, in some bizarre way, be flattered? I'm not. Perhaps I'm just ungrateful.
Later, much later, I'm walking through Portage Place on my way to check out the Y with Meag. As we stroll along, a young guy in oversized hip-hop togs comes toward us. "Lookin' goooooddddd tonight ladies. Lookin' very good." Oh, the mixed messages. Still, I'm more inclined to take this guy's word for it. He's motivated by...well, who knows what he's motivated by. But he doesn't seem as mad as Hurler. Maybe the Hurler was just hungry, that can make a guy cranky. But you know, another burger couldn't hurt.
