Little detail by proxy (my girlfriend just called after spotting it), in the window of the PA hire/disco ball emporia that was around the corner from my old flat there is a sign in the window that reads "Wanted! Bass players called John." (?!)

I wonder exactly how stringent they are on that one?

Mandroid2.0 wrote:

honeyisfunny wrote:

owen wrote:i got a job shooting a suicide girls set. odd. girl seems nice and the pay is good. score.

and my dad said those photography classes in college would be a waste of time...pfff.

If you want to see goth girls with mumps who don't wear much then just come to Nottingham. You don't have to work at it.

Goth girls with mumps? Can't say that I'm into viruses so much...

Exactly

All the girls on Suicide Girls just look ill. You don't have to have a subscription to a website or work as a photographer to get that, you can just come to Nottingham and go to Rock City, our esteemed local rock 'club'.

cjh wrote:... there is a sign in the window that reads "Wanted! Bass players called John." (?!)

I wonder exactly how stringent they are on that one?

"You think The Four Johns aren't fucking serious? Do ya? Do ya? You think we don't take it seriously, motherfucker?"

I wonder if they make Johns bring their birth certificates along to the first practice.

Just to make sure... No fake Johns allowed!

Jury duty today. Woo! At least there's wifi. I look forward to an excruciatingly slow day with my sunny and gregarious fellow Brooklynites.

Ty Webb wrote:Jury duty today. Woo! At least there's wifi. I look forward to an excruciatingly slow day with my sunny and gregarious fellow Brooklynites.

Consider it a good sign if you are not granted a lunch break.

I'm remembering why I need to wear headphones when I ride the bus.

vockins wrote:

Ty Webb wrote:Jury duty today. Woo! At least there's wifi. I look forward to an excruciatingly slow day with my sunny and gregarious fellow Brooklynites.

Consider it a good sign if you are not granted a lunch break.

I've already been told I'm here until 5:00pm no matter what (unless by some miracle I serve and finish the trial before then).

Naively, I cannot believe what just happened.

Walking to the showers after a swim, I passed a stocky guy with a white cloth short sleeved shirt and white shorts, who was grinning unusually towards me. He looked of Lebanese extraction. To be honest, I also thought that he looked like a potential molester. Fighting my rude London instincts, I nodded a hello back at him and went on to the men's shower area, and picked a cubicle. The cubicles have no doors and are separated by partitions. Smiler came in as I started washing, and spent some time hanging up his white shirt on the hook facing my cubicle. I felt that he was looking at me, I felt awkward, not wanting to make incorrect assumptions, so turned and concentrated on washing my face. He took the cubicle next to me.

However, he seemed to spend more than half the time leaning out beyond the partition and, as far as I could tell from my embarrassed half-glances, staring at me. I was feeling uncomfortable by this point. Then, grinning, he asks if he can use some of my shower gel. Ah, an innocent reason for his interest, sure, here you go.

But he still keeps leaning back out past the partition, and whilst I am too unnerved to look back at him, I know he is staring. I turn my back to him, then worried that he might interpret this as my offering him my bottom. Simultaneously I am worrying whether I am completely misreading the situation and being rude.

I finish washing and quickly wrap my towel around me. It is embarrassingly short. Smiler is still smiling, and asks me where I am from.
"London."
"Ah. But you don't look English." He taps his skin.
"I am a little mixed."
He keeps grinning, and I maintain a strained smile as I grab my stuff to leave. Still having this absurd fear of seeming unfriendly, I apologise.
"Sorry, I am a little tired."
I make to leave, but he has one last gambit.
"You have a nice penis."
"Oh. Well, thank you."

I rush off to the changing rooms and lock a cubicle door behind me. I start to laugh, breaking a shoelace as I get dressed.

A couple of hours later, I admit to feeling creeped out by this. I mean, a compliment is usually welcome, regardless of the gender of the complimenter, but this was all a bit too much, the staring and the penis remarking. I thought it was bad form.

I mean, if he was that interested, he could have just offered to buy me an ice cream.

I have learned a lesson today. When someone looks like a pervert, acts like a pervert and sounds like a pervert, don't be fooled: they might actually be a pervert!

heh heh, great story.