This morning I get to the train station, pay the parking machine and walk up to the train platform. The outbound train comes in and prevents us stragglers from crossing to the inbound platform. As I wait, I notice the dumb a*s douche bag that thought the parking lot was the autobahn the other day. I look at her outfit up and down. OK I do that to everyone! I like my fashion and like to see what people are wearing. If they are wearing something nice, I compliment them and mean it. If they aren’t, I blog about it… like camel toe faux pas and how spandex isn’t for everyone.
Anyway…while I am taking in her outfit I notice that her jeans are split at the seam. Do I tell her? Do I not? I go back and forth on that for a second and then I just blurt it out.
“I hate to ruin in your morning but your jeans are split at the seam.” I whisper to her as I point to the culprit area.
She gasps and doesn’t know what to do. Does she cross and go to work in split seamed jeans or does she go home and change? She went home and changed without even saying a word to me…which is fair because the day she cut me off, I didn’t say a word to her. I just gave her the death look.