Ah, summertime. Bringer of insanely hot weather and waaaay too little clothing. Really, women of America, I don’t need to see your boobs, ass cheeks or cooter. In fact, I don’t want to see your boobs, ass cheeks or cooter. Being a heterosexual female, I have no interest in looking at that. Ever. I have the same parts myself and a mirror if I’m really curious. Save it for the paying customers, please. Something about buying cows and free milk comes to mind…
I’m not a big fan of people in general. Given the choice of hanging out in my own home or going to a crowded bar with terrible music (really, how do you people listen to that crap?) and, worst of all, lots of people – lots of stupid, stupid people who stare and actually want to talk to you – 9 times out of 10, I’ll choose my own home. But I was out and about on Saturday night, against my better judgment, because I felt the inclination to be somewhere with better air conditioning than my house was offering. Plus, the word on the street was that this particular alcoholic establishment had frosty, ice-cold beverages. It’s been known to happen.
Much to my displeasure, along with a frosty drink and chilly AC, I was treated to a parade of loose women, circus elephants and clowns. At least I’m assuming they were loose since they weren’t putting up much of an effort to cover up their wares. One of these fallen women showed up in jean shorts that were so short that the pockets of said shorts actually hung down about 4 inches below the bottom of the jeans in the front. In the back, we were treated to a full moon. That’s too goddamn short.
And none of these hooers was built even remotely like a Barbie Doll. Not one. I’m not saying that Barbie is the definitive example of womanhood; far from it. And I’m certainly not saying there’s anything wrong with full-figured women. All I’m saying that if your legs look like 20 pounds of cottage cheese stuffed into a tube sock, you might want to reconsider wearing only 3 inches of fabric. If the spare tire around your waist sticks out father than your boobs, don’t wear a belly shirt. Simple. Bra-less tube tops and microshorts, eesh. I know it’s hot. I hate it too. But can we maybe wear a little more material? Just a tad? Please?
Fish Of Gold 