Greenpoint Photo du Jour: Norman Avenue
Who says mom’s trip to the beauty parlor can’t be fun? This young gentleman (who I have dubbed “Roller Finger”) has the right attitude!
P.S.: Years ago I made the mistake of having my best friend from high school be my college roommate. Before our friendship went to hell in a hand basket (as a consequence) we’d do things together. Lighting “jumping jacks”, tossing them in the toilet and photographing the results was my favorite avocation; shopping at Victoria’s Secret was hers. “Mickey” took her femininity very seriously. I seriously couldn’t give a shit. Hellraising is much more fun. But I digress.
One day I found myself at a Victoria’s Secret store in some nameless, faceless mall in north Texas.
ASIDE: I find Frederick’s of Hollywood charming in a kitschy kind of way. At least they acknowledge the life blood of their business: sex. Victoria’s Secret by comparison is, well, VICTORIAN. Patrolled by Frau Bluckeresque saleswomen who’d probably beat you with a ruler if given half the chance.
But back to my story.
Nary a pasty, flavored lube or a pair of men’s “novelty underwear” (usually involving elephants or giraffes) was to be found that day. I had to find another avenue for entertainment. Interesting things happen when I get bored. In this case I decided to find the biggest bra they had in stock. Hilarity ensued.
Saleswoman: Excuse me, can I help you?
Miss Heather: No, I’m alright.
Salewoman: The bras “in your size” are over there (pointing to the “pirate’s delight”* section).
Miss Heather: I know. I just want to see the biggest boulder holder you have in stock.
She left me alone after that. I later told “Mickey” what I did. She didn’t think it was very funny.