Store / Bus / Store.

So, when I was in this store on Saturday getting a tie to match some new shit I got -- everything this season is purple, so I'm getting shit while I can, since deep purple is my color, in moderation -- and I was having a hard time picking something out, so I accosted two well-built, well-dressed middle-aged women in tight stylish tops and shorter navy blue skirts and beige nylons and sensible shoes, with a slightly foreign look (them, not the shoes, the shoes were more international-looking), and they ended up being two German sisters who were both stewardesses on Lufthansa and though one was based in Dusseldorf and the other in Frankfurt, they had rendesvouzed for shopping, and happened to be shopping at the very store I was where and when I accosted them.

Anyhow, after like ten minutes of them showing me ties and I found a good one picked out by the sister from Dusseldorf, they then showed me some Ed Harley shirts that the first sister was picking out for this six-two German guy she seemed to have something going with (she just said "a good friend", and she gestured his height to me, since she only knew it in metres), and I helped them decide between three shirts, one with a spray-painted tiger head that looked like graffiti, a second with a skull and daggers on a black background, and a third with the torsoes of busty cartoon women with big flowers behind their ears above a heart thing and some slogan about L.A.

"I'd pick that one," I was like, gesturing to the last one, "It has the whole Mexican border whore thing going on," and that sealed the deal for them and they ended up getting it.

On the bus home, this two-hundred pound black lady in front of me on the bus was reading some romance novel called "Night Song" that had a black couple on the cover, clutching. I read over her shoulder a bit, and one character was named Delbert and another Clay, and they and some woman Cara was talking about something that had happened back in some small town in Mississippi that one of them came from that was just coming to light now.

Stopping in the small produce store that some stoner college grads just opened up in my building after this, some middle-aged well-dressed slim black lady in there was picking up a pomegranate and was like, "This here's my debate fruit," and the second time she repeated that to me and the stoner college grad cashier, I asked why, and she said she loves pomegranates but never has time to eat them, it takes so long to pick them apart, but an hour-a-half presidential debate makes her sit down with nothing else to do but eat a pomegranate, and it takes her just about all hour-and-a-half to eat it all, so she enjoys it while not being too distracted from the debate, so she's looking forward to this Wednesday, since it's the last presidential debate night and she'll have her debate fruit with her.