The Boutique Critique

Welcome to the 1^st installment of the “Boutique Critique” and my 1^st entry in collaboration with co-author, Sharra!  We began our mid-morning discussion about the ri-damn-diculousness of what some find offensive.  Here’s what sparked some recent controversy:  Shop owner opens a store that provides women-specific clothing in a conservative town.  Shop owner displays bras & panties on mannequins in shop window.  Local residents see this as blatant advertisement for devil-worshipping.

Which is the better situation?

1) child sees a mannequin, (keep in mind this is an inanimate object, not of flesh & blood) clad in non-suggestive undergarments that every woman SHOULD own, no worse than what’s displayed in an illustrated Bible depicting Adam & Eve in nothing more than strategically placed fig leaves, grows up, goes to college, has a career, spouse, pets and/or kids, continues thru life in a healthy, normal law-abiding way.

or 2) child that has been taught that these particular articles of clothing are “naughty” and as an adult has an absolute come-undone upon seeing them for the first time, (most likely on a real body), drops out of college, buys a white van, and is last seen flashing unsuspecting passer-bys on a popular bike trail.

The odds of changing the views of these offended individuals is about as same as seeing a non-pedophile looking ice-cream truck driver, so instead, we found it best to give this brave entrepreneur some free advertisement.

Pretty You Boutique

 www.prettyyouboutique.com

My critique will soon follow, as will my opinion of the Men’s European swimwear store opening soon on Main St., Bountiful; complete with authentic live models sporting everything from flesh-toned Speedo’s to Borat’s mankini’s.  (Kevin - while you’re applying for that business license, throw in an app for a liquor license as well.  That’s a surefire way to make this dream become reality!)

Look for further attempts to help a local business thrive or products we find just plain fabulous.  Feel free to suggest a product that needs due recognition.  Next up…sexy cooking aprons…an oxymoron? We’ll see. 

Rachelle & Sharra

If nothing else...we’re better looking than Siskel & Ebert and smarter than Kathie & Hoda.

To the idiot who ingenuously displayed his Full Monty last night:

Let me begin by saying “thank you.” You truly made my evening memorable as I was finishing up a bike ride on the Legacy Trail.  I love riding this easily accessible, 28 mile paved road, void of stop signs, decent surroundings, and up until most recently, one that I felt relatively safe riding alone.  This trail has produced some amazing sights, a stray cat that would soon become the ruler of our home, snakes, tarantulas, and many other of God’s creatures, but you have outdone them all.

Derek recently learned the trail is terrapin-friendly

I was taken aback as I slowed down in preparation to make a sharp 90 degree turn in the road, only to look up as you emerged from the 7' tall weeds, in all your less-than-impressive glory.  Now completely stopped, I stood there frozen.  I felt a nervous laugh coming on because I was sure I just caught you peeing.  As you scurried to pull your shorts up from around your ankles and began walking away from me, probably a little embarrassed because you had just been caught, I realized you were going in the same direction in which I needed to be going.  I figured you were shirtless due to the temperatures typical for this time of year, but you see, I’ve been around males long enough to know it doesn’t require one to drop their drawers to the ground in order to urinate, this situation wasn’t adding up.

Law enforcement runs in small circles.  I’m lucky enough to know a few officers in the surrounding cities and it just so happened that a good friend of mine was working this particular evening.  I called him and asked if he was nearby, because I’ll be damned if I was going to ride past your perverted self, alone and up to this point I had not seen any other cyclists or runners in either direction.  I told my friend what I had just happened upon and didn’t think too much about other than I theorized you were just a douche bag.  You quickly proved my theory correct.  Once you were about 100 yards away from me, you turned around and started walking towards me.  Not cool.  I relayed this information to my friend as I stayed on the phone with him while he was enroute to my location.  Soon there were a few more of his comrades enroute too.  By now you must have guessed what I was doing still in the same place and on the phone, but you kept walking towards me.

Cycling shoes are made for just that, cycling, not running and certainly not treading around on a dirt road, which is where I positioned myself, slightly off the trail, but still in plain sight, so that I could see any oncoming vehicles, other travelers, and of course, you.  I’m sure you remember me telling you to stop where you were and the other pleasantries I spoke at you, but you kept right on walking, now only a few feet away from me.  Oh how reassuring you were when you told me to relax because you weren’t going to do anything to me, and clearly explained that your motorcycle was over on the dirt road and that’s where you were going.  Makes total sense!  In fact, I found it so clever the way your motorcycle was indeed over there, hidden off this dirt road in the overgrown weeds, at least 200 yards away from where I originally saw you, and the full sprint that you ran to get to it as soon as you walked past me.

Needless to say, the dust you kicked up while on your dirt bike, made it too difficult for the cops to find you.  Bravo!  But wait, there were officers at the opposite end of the very road you were traveling on.  You must have know that because you either peeled off in some other direction or dumped your bike in the tree-like weeds & swamp, knowing that the daylight was fleeting fast, and hunkered down like the little cowardly weasel that you are and waited out the search.  My sincere “thanks” to the officers and K9’s that got covered in sap from the thistle and eaten alive by the giant mosquitoes. 

So “thank you” again stranger, for potentially scaring the shit out of some younger bike enthusiasts, a lone woman out running for some exercise, or someone in need of clearing their mind by way of a pleasant walk.  Whatever your intentions were, all I can say is that I hope the same giant mosquitoes ate your balls off.

Probably you.  A much younger you.