The PIGS! come in different shapes and sizes and don't always pull their weenies out to show you

Every once in a while I am approached in a very strange and unusual manner not befitting the telling in a blog of this sort. A rule I'm throwing out right now.

Like the one time I went jogging - a very unusual activity, indeed - and came back to the apartment looking like sh*t with my face as red as a baboon's a*s, my hair a mess of incredible proportion and wearing sweats. I stepped into the elevator and The PIG! inside stared at me, through my clothes and into my skin for the duration of the ride. I stared back, with my meanest 'Oh yeah?' and then ran out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. On the wrong floor.

And then another time when I used to hang at this one particular cappuccino bar and drink at least four lattes a day. It was owned by an Italian family who adored me. I knew a couple of the girls that worked there but I never bothered with the boys because they were boys and I had books to read. The family liked me a lot (teaching me to say many Italian things such as: 'mi estomica mi fa mallay' but not correctly spelling it) and so when one of their young coffee makers was fired without reason and everyone avoided the subject around me, I suspected something was up. I later found out that it was because the owner overheard him saying: "I'd like her to wrap that mouth around my YOUknowWHAT" only he didn't say YOUknowWHAT, he used the word that starts with a 'c' and ends much like a dock.

(Obviously: 'Fellatio' wasn't among the words the Italian family did teach me.)

Which leads me to earlier today when I was hanging out quietly waiting for my bus, minding my own business and staring down at my new Crack, with much admiration and still a little surprise at their beauty. I may have been mumbling to myself, but that's only because the battery on my iPod died and I needed company.

Anyway, I looked up and noticed a man of no more than 5' in a yellow khaki suit, black shoes, olive green trench coat, large sunglasses, much hair gel and a gigantic pimp-like cross (hello, Jesus) studded with diamonds and covering half of his petite unmanly torso. The reason I was able to tag so much of how he looked is because I was blinded and surprised by the combination of hair gel and diamond studs, that I stared in awe and confusion, tilting my head to the side like a basset hound.

As he approached, I noticed he was heading directly at me - this, I could have confirmed had it not been for the glare emanating from him, like a disco ball. I may have also been a little taken aback by his smallness and obvious Passion For The Christ and yellow khaki.

Right before he could have smashed into me, he shimmied his short stubby legs a little to my left and grazed 2/3 of me because of his shortness. As he did this, he whispered: "Nice mouth to suck on".(1)

He was so close, I felt his breath; A powerful gust considering his smallness.

Because I'd already been lulled by his overall presentation, I didn't know what had happened in time for me to say anything like YUCK YOU! YOU'RE GROSS. AND 'TINY'.
or
YUCK YOU! JESUS WOULDN'T APPROVE! AND. YOU'RE TIIIIII-NEEEE.
(That's right: I wrote 'Yuck You'.)

When it had sunk in, I was physically revolted that The Trolling PIG! had a moment where he pictured my mouth in any position apart from 'speaking' and 'laughing'.

So next you're in downtown Ottawa and you see a PIG!gy troll that fits the above description please yell 'YUCK YOU!' on my behalf and then tell me all about it. If you're near a hose, fell free to hose him down and see if he shrinks any more.

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(1) I once had someone whisper a simple 'You have beautiful lips' a few hours after I met him and that was acceptable. Nay, it was downright sexy and made my heart jump into my brain and then back into my little toe and then way back into my funny bone. But he's a Fox. (Peekaboo!)