I was walking behind a woman in her early 20s on St Vincent Street a week ago and was looking at her long black cardigan style coat thing with its woollen belt. A favourite of some people. Personally I thought it looked cheap, and I checked myself for assuming the cardigan looked cheap. Who I am to say that? It could be an Armani at £350. Otherwise she was dressed nicely.
But then I noticed the blue Bic biro pen stuck through her hair bun. Tacky.
I thought, “go with the gut feeling“, it’s not Armani, it’s Primark. All respect to her, I get my gear there too.
Saturday, 23 February 2008
Thursday, 21 February 2008
Charity Volunteers In The Street
Is it a pre-requisite for doing this volunteer work that they have a hairstyle that no self respecting person would have? I suppose it's all part of being a student and wanting to express themselves. Gits.
There is various aspects of their “job” that annoys me. The arm waving as if to say “Look at me, I’m a bit crazy and carefree, woo hoo, don’t you want to stop and discuss something with me?” No.
There are some that literally dance around you as you walk past. Some quietly ask you if you want to stop. Some catch your eye from a distance and those are the real buggers as it makes it more difficult to pretend to ignore them and look somewhere else.
I've never stopped to talk to one, I just can't be bothered, maybe I should before I pass judgement on these people who are doing something for charidee. Or I could just tell them to “Fuck off”. I’d like to do that.
There is various aspects of their “job” that annoys me. The arm waving as if to say “Look at me, I’m a bit crazy and carefree, woo hoo, don’t you want to stop and discuss something with me?” No.
There are some that literally dance around you as you walk past. Some quietly ask you if you want to stop. Some catch your eye from a distance and those are the real buggers as it makes it more difficult to pretend to ignore them and look somewhere else.
I've never stopped to talk to one, I just can't be bothered, maybe I should before I pass judgement on these people who are doing something for charidee. Or I could just tell them to “Fuck off”. I’d like to do that.
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Expensive Free Cutlery
Every day a guy comes to our office to sell his wares. He owns a sandwich shop in the centre of Glasgow on the next block to our premises and many people would just go there for their lunches etc. After a while I suppose of getting to know faces he arranged to bring baskets of his food to our office mid morning to save people the walk at lunchtime, and of course to his benefit he had a captive audience.
There are seven floors with around 40 people on each and I think at least 10 people on each floor buy stuff from him, spending an average of £2 each. That's an almost guaranteed extra income of £140 a day approximately, £700 a week, £36400 a year.
50 metres past his shop there is a supermarket. I always go in there before I get to the office. He was in front of me one day, buying huge bunches of bananas. He walked straight out across to his shop. He sells bananas in there for 50p each, as part of this "5 a day" thing people have got going on. I pay around 15p - 20p for a banana in the supermarket. If I went to him, with me getting a couple each day, I'd be giving him an extra £156 every year.
The number of times I see my colleagues flocking to his baskets when he comes onto our floor, trying to get to him as quick as they can is comical. They pay him about 60p for a pot of yoghurt that costs about 35p at the supermarket across the street. His rolls and sandwiches are made by him fresh that day and they pay him for the privilege. A basic roll with some cheese and tomoto is around £1.90. One of my colleagues once asked him if he had only cheese rolls and he offered to take out the tomato, and reduced the price to £1.10. 80p for a single slice of tomato!!
The other day one guy actually said to him "I've only been off two days and it's gone up 20p". He didn't didn't even crack a smile, and my pal was still bitching about it when he got back to his desk still within the guy's earshot. I suppose it's city centre prices. He's got to make his rent and costs and we've got to eat but do we have to give him over £36,000 every year because we can't be arsed walking a hundred metres to a supermarket? People have said that his prices are dear, especially after the 80p tomato slice incident and a couple of people stopped buying from him and actually go to another place around the corner now.
For the people who still use his services, I thank you, as you give me much enjoyment watching you scurry over to him to buy your expensive rolls and cheese (single slice) and yoghurts. One thing though, he does supply free plastic cutlery. Mind you, he probably lifted that from the supermarket. I know I did.
There are seven floors with around 40 people on each and I think at least 10 people on each floor buy stuff from him, spending an average of £2 each. That's an almost guaranteed extra income of £140 a day approximately, £700 a week, £36400 a year.
50 metres past his shop there is a supermarket. I always go in there before I get to the office. He was in front of me one day, buying huge bunches of bananas. He walked straight out across to his shop. He sells bananas in there for 50p each, as part of this "5 a day" thing people have got going on. I pay around 15p - 20p for a banana in the supermarket. If I went to him, with me getting a couple each day, I'd be giving him an extra £156 every year.
The number of times I see my colleagues flocking to his baskets when he comes onto our floor, trying to get to him as quick as they can is comical. They pay him about 60p for a pot of yoghurt that costs about 35p at the supermarket across the street. His rolls and sandwiches are made by him fresh that day and they pay him for the privilege. A basic roll with some cheese and tomoto is around £1.90. One of my colleagues once asked him if he had only cheese rolls and he offered to take out the tomato, and reduced the price to £1.10. 80p for a single slice of tomato!!
The other day one guy actually said to him "I've only been off two days and it's gone up 20p". He didn't didn't even crack a smile, and my pal was still bitching about it when he got back to his desk still within the guy's earshot. I suppose it's city centre prices. He's got to make his rent and costs and we've got to eat but do we have to give him over £36,000 every year because we can't be arsed walking a hundred metres to a supermarket? People have said that his prices are dear, especially after the 80p tomato slice incident and a couple of people stopped buying from him and actually go to another place around the corner now.
For the people who still use his services, I thank you, as you give me much enjoyment watching you scurry over to him to buy your expensive rolls and cheese (single slice) and yoghurts. One thing though, he does supply free plastic cutlery. Mind you, he probably lifted that from the supermarket. I know I did.
Sunday, 17 February 2008
Clown Man
Today's freak of nature story was a strange looking sort of weeping clown workie.
I saw this guy on Gordon Street a few weeks ago. To describe how he was dressed I must start at the bottom and work up.
He had workie's steel capped beige workboots on, baggy trousers, some form of grey smock, and there it stopped being normal. On top of the smock he had a fluorescent tabard over this, and brightly coloured strings of plastic pearls, the like you might see draped around the neck of Mardi Gras ladies and catching on their nipples. On his head he had a soft clown style hat, which splayed off in different directions, and had small bobbles on the end of each piece. Over this , there was numerous orange and yellow strings which looked as though they had just been dropped on top.
Then his face. He'd even painted his face. But not in some sort of traditional clown style. It seems he'd tried to paint on tears, all over his face, but it just looked as though his face was a mass of running paint. And the only colour he'd used was grey.
What am extremely bizarre man.
I saw this guy on Gordon Street a few weeks ago. To describe how he was dressed I must start at the bottom and work up.
He had workie's steel capped beige workboots on, baggy trousers, some form of grey smock, and there it stopped being normal. On top of the smock he had a fluorescent tabard over this, and brightly coloured strings of plastic pearls, the like you might see draped around the neck of Mardi Gras ladies and catching on their nipples. On his head he had a soft clown style hat, which splayed off in different directions, and had small bobbles on the end of each piece. Over this , there was numerous orange and yellow strings which looked as though they had just been dropped on top.
Then his face. He'd even painted his face. But not in some sort of traditional clown style. It seems he'd tried to paint on tears, all over his face, but it just looked as though his face was a mass of running paint. And the only colour he'd used was grey.
What am extremely bizarre man.
Saturday, 16 February 2008
Lick The Lid Of Life
On my way to work yesterday morning I was walking down Buchanan Street, crossing St Vincent Street, and had to wait for the traffic to clear.
As I was looking left I saw the guy beside me had a Muller Yoghurt in his hand. It was open with the lid bent up in a wee curve. As he lifted it I noticed it was almost empty.
He tipped it up and I saw his freakishly long tongue slide out and waggle around inside then tub to get the rest of the purple yoghurt from the bottom. He was doing it all one handed and seemed quite skilled at using his tongue to go in a good couple of inches and hit the right spot. His girlfriend must love him.
As I was looking left I saw the guy beside me had a Muller Yoghurt in his hand. It was open with the lid bent up in a wee curve. As he lifted it I noticed it was almost empty.
He tipped it up and I saw his freakishly long tongue slide out and waggle around inside then tub to get the rest of the purple yoghurt from the bottom. He was doing it all one handed and seemed quite skilled at using his tongue to go in a good couple of inches and hit the right spot. His girlfriend must love him.
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