I must have died and been reborn in some other fucking country, cause I don’t know what these girls are thinking.
This girl caught my eye right away. She was not too tall, not too short, and like a tasty bowl of portage--I thought she was just right. In fact, she looked pretty damn exotic with light brown-maybe-hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, and long, curly, dark brown hair. WOW. She was definably the good looking one within the pack of wolves she was standing with. Two on her left, and three on her right, scowling at the world with all the cockblocking animosity they could muster for the opposite sex. They must have been well aware in their cold dead hearts that what “A” brought to the table in looks, they could never buy from a plastic surgeon. And so to compensate? POUNDS OF FOAM straining to push breasts smaller than those found on most 13 year old boys these days--into something worthy of a drink. That is, until your eyes made their way up from their chests and fell upon the scowl. A hard scowl. A tough face. The kind rappers make for the fake mugshots they put in the sleeves of their CDs.
Why such a beautiful creature would surround herself with foam breasted convicts is beyond me. I waited, seeing if our eyes ever met--they didn’t. Nor was she ever NOT surrounded by the wolves. Any attempt to talk to her in the middle of her pack would have been worthless. I waited too damn long, drinking too damn much. Thursday night was a fucking waste of time.
