Gangster Bump Its. Yes Please.

Yesterday, I saw the top of a man's crotch while waiting for the 92 on Florida Ave. You may be thinking to yourself that this is not a bad way to break up your mid-morning routine, but I assure you it is not. Said man was a heavy set, hairy fellow with visible poor hygiene. He turns around to face the wall (maybe he thought he was being discrete), unzips his pants and drops them halfway down his rear to properly tuck in his shirt. He saw that I saw him, and instead of apologizing or feeling embarrassed, he shrugged his shoulders as if I'd just caught him picking his nose or something.

But this horror was properly balanced by the combination of excitement, surprise, and admiration I held for... wait for it... a real live bump it on the 92! Yes, I'm talking about those plastic hair pieces on the infomercials that will give you instant "lift" that New Jersey is famous for - trashy accent included, I think (sorry New Jersey friends, you know it's true).

The proud wearer of the bump it was a fashionable young thing - leopard print chiffon shirt/jacket/scarfish thing and died and fried hair down to her waist a la Crystal Gayle. I spent most of the bus ride trying to figure out whether, in fact, she was sporting one, or she had just properly teased and sprayed it into cooperation, but just as I decided on my own that her hair was too fine to support that kind of height and precision sans bump it, she turned her head and I caught sight of the white plastic shining between pieces of hair. Yes! Proof at last- people actually do wear these things non-ironically.

Oh, and I got to watch this whole thing sitting beside a 50 year old man in gray camouflage shorts, a matching gray camo bandana wrapped around his head like Tupac, and an oversized T-shirt that read: "RESPECT MY GANGSTER." I'm not entirely sure what that means. Does he mean a gangster that he owns? Or maybe his gangstership? Gangsterdom, Gangsterocity? Thoughts anyone?

Hittin' up the D6 this morning. Happy Friday!