boom box

Tonight, Keith and I strolled the streets of Downtown Holland and enjoyed the watching the Street Performers. I get such a kick out it. You see everything from jugglers to break dancers to face painters to Young Life leaders with their guitars. Tonight my new favorite was the hula hooper. You heard me. She was amazing. Never. Stop. Hula-hooping. Usually two at once. Never mind that she had her butt hanging out of her shorts and everyone I heard comment about her said something to the effect of "wow, she's good - but why is she dressed like that?" She really was good. Silver shorts and fish net stockings and all. (The good news was she was also very pretty, so it wasn't as painful as you might be picturing.)

A block away, there's the old standby Belly Dancer. The best part of her routine is getting 3 year little girls in on the action. There were no toddlers when we approach. Just a... woman... doing her... thing. As we settled in to our spot, my husband who NEVER (seriously - never) has ANYTHING to say about another woman's appearance said "Look at her boom box!"

I scanned this poor woman from head to toe and back and could not figure out what in the world Keith would be referring to as a boom box. And then I noticed it - she had a huge portable stereo on the side walk. He really was talking about a boom box - and not in a "that's what she said" kind of way.

I seriously don't know another man on the face on the planet who would look at an adult woman, with a low cut blouse and bare midriff, shaking it all wildly and comment on her stereo. Do you? Sorry ladies, he's mine.