"Touchy subject!"

"I ain't wanna paint this picture!"

Things I saw on the subway this morning:

Thong-th-thong-thong-thong!

Well, actually, it wasn't so much thong as it was top of faded purple thong, with tag turned out for all to see, between rumpled white cotton t-shirt and very low-slung brown trousers. The woman wearing the thong in question had just made a nice gesture, getting up from her seat a little early so that a middle-aged woman could sit down, so PF and I felt like we should do something nice for her and tell her that her underwear AND underwear tag were showing.

Except we didn't know how to tell her! How do you politely inform a complete stranger that her clothing is in a compromising position? I mean, why were we even looking in the first place, right? We chickened out and tried not to stare at the tag that was basically gouging our eyes out. I thought maybe she might, eventually, hopefully sooner than later, absentmindedly tug her shirt down as women often do when they feel as if a draft is whooshing up their backs, and possibly down their backs as well. But I also thought that it would serve me right if I walked around for the rest of my day with, like, a wad of chewing gum stuck to my bum.

TRACK LISTING: Erick Sermon, "Do You Know"