out to play

Well that was interesting.

First, my boob popped out at French. I was talking candidly to my teacher and the class about retiring in Provence with Reechard ‘Ammond and/or Colin Firth when I’m 60, where I could write books all day and buy fresh leaks from the market, and out it popped.

That old chestnut.

‘Attonseeyon!’ she cried, and there is was. In all it’s B Cup glory.

Starting to wonder now if it wasn’t doing that all day (I blame the cut of my dress), amongst meetings and other client-facing relations.

Oh well, who hasn’t seen boobs? If they were a sizeable pair of massive cahones then I’d do it more often. Quite frankly.

Then, driving back home, this Joburg Metro Police Van pulls up alongside me at a traffic light.
Immediately think ‘Act not guilty act not guilty.’
Even with a valid driver’s license, license disc, car papers, the works, and not a pindrop of narcotic within any vicinity of my va-heeicle.
At that moment, are, in fact, the most innocent person to drive along Jan Smuts Avenue.
Yet still feel like you should stop singing to the loud music that’s pumping out of your window. And be all stiff and conservative.

Anyway the copper driving, starts waving at me. In a friendly fashion, not a ‘pull over I’m gonna frisk you’ fashion.

Is this a trap?

I sort of smile and think, ‘Fuck.’
Then he continues by waving and smiling and mouthing something along the lines of ‘Hey how’re you’re doing,’ while his copper mates next to him sit there and roll their eyes.

Is this policeman Traffic Charfing me?

I roar ahead and another light turns red and yet again. He makes a movement for me to roll down my window.
In ordinary circumstances – as in non-desirable traffic spadage - I’d look straight ahead and scowl. Like I was concentrating hard on something. ‘Cept this was a policeman.

Crap.
Rolled down window.

‘Hiyi!!’ he says. Continuing to wave like an enthusiastic human.

‘Hello.’ I wave back ever so retardedly.

[awkward silence.]

‘That’s…quite a truck you have there…Mister Officer.’

[WTF?]

Looked down. Oh dear God.

The breast – Elizabeth as always – that naughty naughty minx – has come out to play again. (It’s never Hannah, my right boobie, she never pops out. It’s always Elizabeth. Keeping a leash on that one is hard fucken work.]

Do you think he saw?