Here's Your Sign

I hate to be a catch-phrase poacher, but nothing really matches what I wanted to say to the following two individuals more than that. If you're not familiar with the "Here's your sign" bits, just Google it, or Bill Engvall from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour with Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, and Ron White. It's one of the most commonly uttered phrases by Mandi and I when we're people-watching.

I know I haven't posted enough pictures of the trip to Disney, and you're all expecting some really cute ones of the girls. Be patient. This is funnier and definitely warrants being posted first.

So our second day of theme parks was spent at Epcot. We got there early, and the lines were still pretty short. We headed straight for the Finding Nemo ride, as we'd heard it was a "don't miss" attraction. We waited 20 minutes in the deceptively long line, endured Lily's bellyaching about the dark tunnels, and emerged ready to go to our next stop. Then, as if it were being handed to me on a silver platter, what you're about to see next appeared before me.

Seriously dude? Not only did you braid the mullet, but red-white-and-blue beads too? Here's your sign.

The second incident occurred today at the gym. Now I usually won't make fun of someone who's in the gym workin' on their fitness, no matter how atrocious their attire. Well, I did call out body-odor guy a while back, but that was just ridiculous. I believe firmly that spandex is not made for overweight people, but if you're exercising at least you've got a part of an excuse. Loose clothing is dangerous around moving pieces of equipment. Sometimes though, the whole package just exceeds the limits of decency. Nearing the end of my workout today, I made my way back toward the abdominal equipment. As I approached, I noticed someone I'd never seen before on the machine I generally use first. No worries, I'll start one machine over. It wasn't until my 3rd or 4th rep that I looked that direction again, only to find the most abhorrent gym outfit ever assembled.

For starters, the woman's hair was unruly to the point that I wondered if she'd been electrocuted. I mean would a comb kill you? From my vantage point, the next thing I noticed (as I attempted to look down to avoid staring) was that her feet were bare. I think I stopped exercising at that point, as I just could not fathom what I was witnessing. She got down from the machine, slipped on her (I'm not making this up) rose petal patterned bedroom shoes and walked to the next station. Once I wrapped my head around the slippers thing, I noticed the rest of the outfit. The black spandex pants, when viewed from my vantage point (thankfully she was walking away from me, otherwise I would certainly have been caught staring), outlined what can only be described as an ass the size of a hippo's. Seriously. And they were pulled up as far as they could go to try to contain the ginormous belly she was no doubt exercising to eliminate.

The most outrageous part, unfortunately, was still to come. As I shook my head to break Medusa's spell, I managed to observe the shirt. Now remember, the bedroom slippers had rose petals on them. This top was a tank-style shirt, which was great because sleeves would have concealed her queen-of-hearts tattoo that covered all of her right shoulder and triceps. In its current form, it was not even able to cover the straps of her undergarment, which was futilely attempting to create a distinction between her breasts and the aforementioned belly. It was completely impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Picture the worst-dressed Weeble you've ever seen. The best part about the shirt, however, I saved for last. The pattern, you ask? Yeah, it was leopard print. I only wish I was clever enough to make that up. Too bad cameras are banned in the gym, that one would've been a great photo. Lady, here's your sign.