Somebody took my sweet nephew and godson Lucas and shrank him into a little Flat Lucas who went all over Atlanta with me to today.
We went to Turner Field and took a picture of the new stadium from the REAL stadium, Fulton County Stadium, that was torn down for the Olympics. They turned the old stadium into a parking lot, but because of Hank Aaron‘s record-breaking home run, they embedded a record of the diamond and bases on the deck. They also left the piece of the wall where the ball sailed over!
There are parts of my fair city that are…well…interesting. Lucky for me, I work in one of those quarters where there’s always entertainment going on. You know what I’m talking about as I talk around in delicate circles.
Let’s face it. It’s the bizarro world to my quiet, suburban/formerly rural homestead. The fact that we aren’t rural anymore should be an indication of the kind of gigantic growth experienced in Atlanta. As a side note, one of these days Birmingham is going to be part of metropolitan Atlanta due to the urban sprawl, but that’s not what I’m venting about today.
No. Today I saw an angelic vision. Or something.
Yes! Seen on my favorite corner (the one where I have been mooned and terrorized by bible thumping cultists) this morning was a gentlemen dressed in an alb.
I am certain that it was an alb because I was carefully looking at the hem and the pleats in the front. If that wasn’t enough, his fashion accessories were outright bizarre.
To his credit, his black and white motif was working, but still. Weird.
To compound things, the alb was hemmed a little too short, exposing his black dress socks accentuated by dazzling white plastic sneakers trimmed in black. It also exposed the fact that he was not wearing long pants (and it was like 22 degrees F). He didn’t strike me as a Scotsman, so I’d like to think he was wearing something else under there, but my mind refused to ponder that any further.
The ensemble was completed by a black hoodie and thick hockey gloves. And dark sunglasses.
I if was dressed like that I wouldn’t want to be recognized, either.
Photo by Christaar on her cheap-ass LG phone:No more having to walk through that tunnel with the drunks and other shady characters. This lovely picture is like a trophy. Somebody placed the bottle in a discarded shoe like it was a fine wine decanter.
What does that mean? It means across the planet crazy people participated in an international prank to go out in public without wearing their pants (trousers). Hmmm. The idea was to go on the city’s subways or mass transit at a designated time, pantsless. Should anyone inquire about their [lack of] attire, participants are instructed to respond, “Oh, I forgot to put them on.”
Yes, I see how that could be a plausible response. I’ve left the house in my slippers; forgotten to brush my hair; left my wallet….but somehow I’ve always remembered to wear my pants! It’s wonderful to be a carefree college student. (okay…let me be honest…I would have done it, too—back in the day).
Evidently they were accosted by a woman pointing out that they are not in the Garden of Eden. Good point! At least Adam and Eve had the decency to wear fig leaves! Repent! The looks and comments must have been fabulous.