I was struck by something on the way back from work today: I am sick to death of PDU. 'PDU?' I hear you say. You must be thinking that I've got confused with the legendary PDA, but no. (I am not, by the by, a mahoosive fan of public displays of affection but, I can deal). PDU is another creature entirely and was not a huge matter until recently. I shall spell it out:
Public Displays of Urination.
Oh, yuck. In the last week, I've seen it three times. All in broad daylight, all on busy roads (one incident was on the outside of a library. Shakespeare would be cursing in perfect iambic pentameter, dear foolish pee-man)
We do not need a nation of public pee-ers, because that is not, ladies and gentlemen, the nation I wish to live in.
In other, much more interesting and sanitary news (I think I can hear a gasp of relief from you, blogfriends), I'll tell you one thing, I bloody love this outfit that Olivia Palermo was wearing at the Tribeca Film Festival:
The length and the embellishment give the outfit the drama it needs to keep it from just being another LBD appearance. LOVE. Plus, I really like the darker, warmer tone to her hair. I haven't seen her for yonks and I much prefer this to her blonde locks.
Also, through work I've met strange people, normal people, rude and ignorant folks, lovely and generous folks. Today, I met a strange breed. The friendly-but-oddly-insulting-but-with-a-smile-so-what-can-I-say (it's a long breed name, I understand). I will explain briefly. Having tried in vain to help them find what they were desperately seeking (it wasn't Susan...that was a crap pun, excuse me), I apologised and left them to their own devices. They later returned and shouted at me from the entrance of the store:
'Hey you! Little person!'.
I am 22.
I am little but that is hardly the point.
Life is not an episode of 'Catchphrase' and you cannot simply just say what you see!