Parenthood on the 92

Dude at bus stop: "Hey! Miss Lady!"
Me: "Yes?"
Dude: "You done gots the prettiest legs I ever seen."

I feel a little guilty that I was 50% freaked out, but mostly that I was also 50% flattered. You think he noticed my calves since I've been running more?!

So last night I tried to catch the X2 home. I waited for a few moments while the angry she-bus driver attempted to "service" the bus herself rather than just telling us all there was no chance. I stood beside a heavyset (an understatement) woman who sat with a baby on one hip and a hand on the other (the DC signature pose, if you will). Her too-tight, sorta see-through t-shirt read, and I kid you not: "May all of your ups and downs be between the sheets." How's that for parenting? And common respect for your fellow metro-goers?

Anyway, I eventually gave up on the bus driver (Ms. Lady. Funny how her name is the same as mine), and got on the metro. Good choice.

On the metro, I sat in a group of wife beater-clad twenty something guys featuring cartoon boxers peaking out from above their waistband (note: waistband falls at upper-thigh). But they were wearing sagging baggy jeans, not sagging skinny jeans (puke!), so I liked them a little more than the hipster-thug-teenager hybrids that sat across from us. My group was discussing "dem new jordans," and whether or not one of them could afford them. The group concensus? No, because "Son, you got 8 kids." Please see my previous statement where I pointed out that they were all in their mid-twenties. The guy explained his budgeting techniques in a pretty clear way: "Man... I handle my biznass. I takes care of my kids." Cool. I was impressed. Because a job that allows you to sport cartoon boxers with wife beaters and support 8 kids and an expensive shoe habit? Sign me up!