Sam I Am, I do Not Like Green Eggs and Ham!

Sam I am, Sam I am, I do not like Green Eggs and Ham!

Colors are another thing that passes in cycles. When you were two, your favorite color was red, at five it was orange, at thirteen, black was the color of choice. Preferences say loads about a person.

For instance, the woman that just left my fine establishment was critical (anal, if you prefer), aloof, ignorant, self-righteous, ill-informed, angry, and very over-weight. She was wearing dark blue slacks in an unattractive Walmart cut and a light blue tent top. Had short dark hair in a non-descript chop-shop-do and toted an adolescent like a pet pooch.

She hadn’t taken two steps in the door before I knew I wouldn’t enjoy idle chit-chat with her. So I busied myself with my daily shipping routine and tried desperately to keep myself out of range. Usually, I jump right into conversation if the colors, clothes, and demeanor are correct. You see, the over-use of blue indicated all of the aforementioned personality quirks. The unattractive cut of hair and trousseau screamed a critical and confused Christian, possibly Baptist. The sadly slouching preteen looked like a whipped pup. No doubt detested and scorned by the mother for being moderately attractive and desiring a typical teen wardrobe, of which she could have carried off quite well…if it weren’t hammered into her as being a sin. So she hung her head in disgrace and hid behind a mass of unkempt hair, ashamed of puberty and no doubt, worried about the spam a jealous mother fed her about the sins of the flesh ( spam; a jellified mass of by-products forced to conform to the can it is crammed into for marketing purposes) . I bet you’re wondering what she was wearing. Maybe, another time.

Being observant is commonly confused with psychism [i.e. “Psych”; a new detective show]; But, if you combine psychic ability with keen observation, pour it into a D cup and top it off with a pair of big beautiful cerulean eyes and long flowing cascades of sunlight, then you’ve got one scary woman. Ask any man. It can be hell on a womans love-life. At least until she finds the man that can appreciate and handle her well-rounded gifts gracefully.

I was going somewhere with all this. Oh yes, it was that green chick with the bouffant. An exhausting individual. That’ll have to wait for another time, more big blue Baptists just walked in.
Oy! I’ll have to conjure my cloak of many colors for the third time today. I deserve an ice cream cone.