The week I could not think

Time taken to create: days upon days
It was a horrible week, probably just the result of sleep loss really, but I had to put it to paper.

Lingerie Shopping (an Unsuccessful Adventure)

There's this thing in Israel, I don't know why, where if you have small boobs, you are condemned to either wear kiddy bras or conceal your mutation with push ups. Being a lover of pretty lingerie, but somewhat on the tiny side, I am forever the victim of this ruthless market decision. Unsurprisingly, I do most of my underwear shopping abroad. 

But there are always exceptions, and some months ago I found myself urgently in need of a strapless bra. A simple request, you might say, made even more so by the fact that I didn't even need it to be pretty. I entered a lingerie store, one of the more successful chains in the country, and asked for one. The sales lady gave me a quick once over and asked if I wanted a push-up.

God damn woman, was that really necessary? If I really wanted one, wouldn't I ask for it myself?

Furthermore, inherent offensiveness aside, are such wild assumptions acceptable now? Have we reached some kind of unspoken consensus regarding the self confidence of females the world over? Is it so obvious that all girls want larger boobs that their choices in bras go without saying? When did this happen? Why did nobody check if this was cool with me? WHERE ARE MY GODDAMN REGULAR BRAS?

All these meaningful and well articulated thoughts I concentrated into a resounding, powerful "No", which the lady took as her cue to get offended as well. She told me to chill out, and that even 12 year olds come to her asking for them. My already waning respect for 12 year olds suffered a sudden decline, but this was not relevant to my mission. I bit back my response and soldiered on, carefully asking for a strapless, cushionless bra. I waited patiently as she rooted around in the boxes behind her, and took the one she offered me. It was a push up. For god's sake woman, we've just been over this.

A short while later, she proffered the one regular bra to be found, carefully engineered to be as ugly as possible (presumably so as to remind all potential buyers that they are inferior for wearing it). As I tried it on, I overheard the lady chatting to another customer. From the snippets I heard, I could tell she was quite the aggressive saleswoman.

By which I mean, she was repeatedly offering the customer bras she didn't want, and accusing her of being a miser when she refused them. When I left the changing room, I saw that she had stuck her head in past the curtain, actively trapping her victim - a little old lady no less.

Here my well renowned patience ran dry, my inner peoples hero, protector of the weak and the stupid, broke free. I told her to leave the leave the little old lady alone, that she clearly was not interested. I threw the bra on the counter with flagrance abound, declared that it didn't fit, and stormed out, radiating pride and justice everywhere I looked.

Behind me, the shocked woman started a speech along the lines of "Kids today...".
The very same woman who sells those kids push up bras.

I tell you, some people have no shame.


By the way lady, if I was the type to wander around in push up bras, don't you think you wouldn't have noticed I was small in the first place?

Regarding Bloggers

 This is what happens when I forget what I'm doing halfway through a comic and just go with it
I like the results
I should do this more

A Solution to an Age Old Problem

Oh the self hatred

Look at this.












This is my bike.


No, there is nothing wrong with your internet connection.
Or your browser.
My bike is gone.


A mere two weeks ago my parents bought me a shiny new bike.
And now it's gone.

Let's start again.


Look at this.
Well, imagine this, I can't be bothered to draw.
I rarely draw when I'm truly angry. Only fake rage.

I am a bike.
My front wheel is missing, it was punctured and is being fixed.
My seat is missing, my owner took it home so that you wouldn't steal it.

I am the frame of a bike and one wheel.
And I am chained, frame and wheel, to a bike stand.
If you try to ride me you will encounter plenty of friction from the floor, not to mention slight discomfort in your behind.
You have no reason to steal me.
And my owner will be very upset if you do.





Please don't steal me.
I'll only be here for two days.
It was reckless of my owner to leave me chained out in a public place for so long, yes.
Not to mention she had so many chances to go out and fetch me and bring me home.
I guess she doesn't really love me.

She could have saved me.

Another Perspective for Popular Songs

Not sounding so romantic now, are you, mr. Valo?

Rastas

I have discovered the reason that the army is all for short hair on men: