|The dog bowl of DEATH|
(except pleasantly not).
On a side note, today on the train I was sitting behind a man. He had blonde slightly curly hair, and was wearing reflective safety “worker man” type clothing. He was fit looking, muscular and neatly groomed, with an even layer of stubble that you could tell was on purpose. The seat next to him was vacant, so he had stretched out a bit, and he had his work boots up slightly on the chair in front of him with an attitude of “I’m a man and I’ll do whatever I want”. Part of what I love about the train is just watching people, so I sat there in the seat behind him (like a total creep, possibly even grinning) and watched him flip through his...woman’s fitness magazine!
The train beeped to signal arrival at the next station. An old stern looking business man took the seat next to my dear friend, and his eyes instantly flickered to the “tips on how to correctly do a squat” article open next to him. I have never seen somebody discreetly shut a magazine and stuff it in a bag so fast, while developing some rosy red cheeks. To complete it all, once the woman’s magazine was stored neatly away, he rummaged back through his bag and pulled out a men’s muscle building magazine, did a slight awkward cough, and flicked through the pages of bulging muscle.