Hair today

I was just reading my book when a long black hair dropped onto the page.
What the??
The girl in front of me is brushing her hair, vigorously, and is flinging scalp flakes, vermin eggs, hair and God knows what else all over me.
I can’t believe this!!! The inconsiderate little creep.
I gave her my ‘do you mind’ look - mixed in with a healthy dose of my incredulity look and she stops brushing immediately, with bad grace mind. THEN she cleans the brush, drops the hair ball on the floor and puts the brush back into her bag. What a grub.
But she hasn't finished. Now she has the foundation out, it’s liquid and she is applying it with a sponge. This task cannot be completed without elbowing the poor lady next to her, nor without blotting with a tissue (which joins the hair on the floor).
Blush is next. She is putting it on with a long handled brush with short bristles and she is flicking it backwards in my direction. The sun is coming through the window and the dust particles from the brush can be seen hurtling through the air to be filtered through the nostrils of anyone within a 5 metre radius. The poor lady next to her has a skin coloured film all over the left shoulder of her suit jacket.
Mascara is next. This is my opportunity to inflict some revenge for the hay fever attack that I’m sure to have in about ½ hour. Just as she puts the mascara brush up to her eye my leg becomes weary of staying still and starts to jump all over the place. I accidentally hit the back of the seat with my knee. Whoops, she has just smacked the mascara brush under her eye. Heeeeeee. She takes out another tissue and dabs away at the smudge (has to resort to a bit of spit on the tissue) then lines up for another go. This time the train jolts suddenly to the right. Wow that was a near miss, she nearly took out an eye. Another tissue, more spit, train hits a corner at 100 kms, hmmmmm nice moustache. Ahahahahahahahahahaa. Tissue, spit, throw tissue after the first one.
She gives up on the mascara for the time being and concentrates on patching up the damage. You know, if she gets this wrong she will end up looking like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.
Here we go with lipstick now….this should be good. I could be a real bastard here but I refrain from trying to make her look like Bozo the clown. It’s killing me…..
She manages that one ok, how many lipsticks do you wear at once these days? This is her third colour.
I tell you, she really loves that mirror she’s holding onto too. I’m wondering if she should go and get herself a room the way she is carrying on.
By this time I’m not the only one who is fascinated and, lets face it, slightly revolted. The lady next to her is watching from the corner of her eye and a fellow over the way is watching in morbid facination. She has been ‘doing’ her face for a good 40 minutes. If she did this before she left for work she would have to get up a 4am just to be on time. The worst thing is that it doesn’t make her look any better, in fact she looks like a whore.
Argh, she is back to the hair! She is being careful to brush it away from me though.
This is just another case for the argument that the fabric of society has a big hole in it. What happened to consideration for others? By today’s standards I’m the one who’s a crackpot because I am angered by this behaviour. How does that work???
People never used to groom themselves in public. The main reason was because they had too much pride to go out the front door unless they were fully dressed and groomed. But it didn’t stop there, consideration for others was another factor. You didn’t propel your hair, makeup or skin flakes all over others and you certainly didn’t get all snooty if someone was offended by your filthy behavour. It was considered the height of bad manners to brush your hair, pick your teeth or sneeze, cough or yawn without covering your mouth. Not anymore. No wonder we have disease coming back tenfold.
So armed with my self righteousness and my anger I decided not to put up with this little arrogant toe rag’s bad manners anymore.
I tapped her on the shoulder and said in a nice clear voice…
‘Would you mind putting that brush away please love, you are showering me in dandruff’
No come back to that one folks. The brush went back in the bag and the girl sunk down in her seat until only the top of her head is visible.
Beauty, now I have a seat with a view.

Invasion of the westies

This is a photo of a 'few' Bogong Moths on the morning after the night before. This particular building, I'm guessing because it's white, seems to be a very popular resting place for these little guys early in the mornings.
It’s that time of the year again when Sydney becomes a party ground for the most unpopular of Westies, the Bogong Moth.
They arrive in their millions, ready to let down their antennae and celebrate the end of pupation.
The Gold Coast has Schoolies fortnight, Sydney has Moth Month.
These pubescent moths climb out of their cocoons at the beginning of summer, look down from their mountainous homes at the bright city lights and just don’t seem to be able to resist the call of the neon.
The Bogong Moth should not be confused with that other Westie of ill repute – the Bogan.
I’m not sure if a Bogan has moth like tendencies and I have never seen a Bogong wearing a mullet and black stovepipe Levi's but the similarities between the two are worth noting.
Both are attracted to the city (if you’ll pardon the pun) like moths to a flame. Both are socially inept, daggy, congregate in numbers, willfully and randomly damage property, lie around all day because they have been up partying all night and are a drain on the economy.
However I digress, for the long suffering residents of the Harbour City it is a month of being buzzed by these teenage kamikaze moths who know no respect for life or limb in their quest for bright lights.
The daily newspapers are full of stories of the violence and intimidation that these moths seem to generate. There are often photos of hundreds of thousands of Moths, crushed underfoot on the footpath by callous pedestrians, as they lie there in a stupor after a night of bashing their heads against a florescent light.
Many cars and trucks, and yes, trains, drive around with the carcasses of Young Moths (who were foolish enough to mix light euphoria and speeding steel objects) paraded like trophies, stuck to their bumper bars and grills.
This afternoon as I enter the train carriage I espy about 50 of these silly young things bashing into the florescent lights. They are quite chunky so they make a really loud ‘thunk’ as they hit the casing around the light. They are dropping the ‘dust’ from their wings all over the people below them and as they beat themselves into a near stupor those humans who are obviously Mottephobic (afraid of moths) (and you can spot them a mile off) are having a fit in case a moth touches them.
There is one girl who is going to be beaten about the head with a rolled up newspaper by at least 4 passengers in her vicinity if she screams at the top of her lungs again. One man has had a miss hit and smacked the man in front on the shoulder with his hand, (heeeeeeeee) lucky there wasn’t blood let over that one, and every now and again someone stands up and swats ineffectually at the air or cowers under the seat with the paper covering their head.
Even the Security Guards seem to be at a loss at what to do, some passengers try appeal to their civic duty and ask them to remove the moths as they are annoying and scary.(you know, if I was the guard I would have told them to stick it but this guy was really nice and diplomatic about it).
I opened the window and any moths that came my way were surreptitiously released into the slipstream until one lady gave me a ‘you scum bag, you are touching the most disgusting creature God ever breathed a breath into’ look. That motivated me, I gave up all pretence of covert rescue and openly hunted, caught and released moths all the way home.
Just looking after my karma