There are some things in life I just don’t get. Like why in the world the hooters girls wear those terrible little orange shorts. Boy Shorts, hot pants, granny panties what ever would be better but the make shift running shorts don’t do anything for me.
Why a stripper gave my mammoth, itinerate, inebriated vulgar friend Pete cab fare to get home one night after he spent the entire night tipping other girls and insulting her. Some guys must just have that kind of appeal. Or maybe some girls just like big muscle bound jerks, either way.
Why the waitress at a restaurant felt the need to explain her “Kiss my Taco” shirt to me if she wasn’t offering to let me do so. Do I look that fucking stupid and straight laced that a total stranger unprovoked needed to explain the euphemism to me. I’ve seen a few and heard the term before, no need to explain what you meant by kitty either honey but thanks for doing it I love when women I don’t know who are about to bring my dinner use the word pussy.
Why do birds sing, why do fools fall in love, etc. etc. etc. and a myriad of other insane things that probably don’t matter in the grand scheme.
So walking up sixth avenue not far from the ball field there’s brunette, white t shirt, nice rack, black shorts and tube socks standing on the corner. Tube socks I asked? She tries to hand me a paper and get me to hang a left and go to what ever it is she’s promoting.
I ask again about the socks, I’m baffled and on the edge of becoming dismayed. Seriously what moron thought let’s take a really pretty girl put her on the street corner a few hours before game time and have her use her beauty to convince penis toting morons to come and drop their cash in vast amounts in my establishment. Do you know what will really get them going? Let’s put her in knee high tube socks with three stupid red stripes and all the other puds he pitched it to agreed.
Is everyone wearing tube socks? I ask again. She of course looks at me like I’m crazy and explains how hot everyone in the club is. I could care less I’m still intrigued by the stupidity of the socks. She moves on to a pack of young Latinos who seem less concerned about her socks and interested in her boobs. Which I might have cared moderately more about if I could get past why a stunning young lady was wear socks that reminded me of a grade school gym teacher. They hang a left. I go straight and hit the book store a few blocks up. Shame is she was a very pretty girl, except for the tube socks.
