I am starting to dislike young pretty women. They sit there with their perfectly tanned legs and there are no bulging veins or blotches in sight, a sea of perfect skin. Their teeth are pearls sparkling in petunia pink gums and their hair, ah their hair, is voluminous and smelling deeply of cool woods. Now there are young pretty women of fine character, lots. I am talking about the ones who truly and erroneously believe it will always be like this, themselves adored and fawned over and they don't realize it's their packaging getting the attention, not the shallow spoiled girl that lives inside.
I am in the drive-through line at McDonald's and like all drive-through lanes it was designed by someone from Mars, it makes no sense and it allows for a carload of pubescent doll-faced girls to sneak ahead of me and the other obedient citizens who are waiting for artificial chicken and the rest. They are without morals and conscience I say to myself but now I have my jumbo icy fountain drink and I am alert and pacified for awhile.
I am waiting, waiting, waiting at the Asian #1 Nails salon and there are a lot of unpolished nails in front of me. The door opens and there she is, a girl of sixteen maybe, innocence and sensuality oozing off her, defining her. She smells like cake frosting and you can tell she is accustomed to being stared at. Like royal personages her eyes stay averted and she looks no one in the face. There is no character etched into her young face yet and that's what men want. Well, some men, a lot of men actually.
Finally it's my turn to be scrubbed and painted but the prom queen is standing up and headed toward my deserved chair, oh she knows better. The oriental lady is nodding and agreeable and I have been enduring a touch of laryngitis for a couple of days and can barely squeak out my displeasure. I finally grab Saigon Sally's* arm and point to my chest and then my feet and over to the empty chair, a raspy scary sound coming from my squeezed esophagus and she looks at me with a primal fear in her eyes. Now she gets it and Barbie has to sit down, her mobile unit buzzing and she is engaged with her latest text message. Any satisfaction I would have gotten out of seeing her reaction was lost in the blank unblinking stare she put on that little box with the neon pink cover.
* no disrespect to the women of the eastern hemisphere, but it was my turn, goddamn it, pay attention.
I am in the drive-through line at McDonald's and like all drive-through lanes it was designed by someone from Mars, it makes no sense and it allows for a carload of pubescent doll-faced girls to sneak ahead of me and the other obedient citizens who are waiting for artificial chicken and the rest. They are without morals and conscience I say to myself but now I have my jumbo icy fountain drink and I am alert and pacified for awhile.
I am waiting, waiting, waiting at the Asian #1 Nails salon and there are a lot of unpolished nails in front of me. The door opens and there she is, a girl of sixteen maybe, innocence and sensuality oozing off her, defining her. She smells like cake frosting and you can tell she is accustomed to being stared at. Like royal personages her eyes stay averted and she looks no one in the face. There is no character etched into her young face yet and that's what men want. Well, some men, a lot of men actually.
Finally it's my turn to be scrubbed and painted but the prom queen is standing up and headed toward my deserved chair, oh she knows better. The oriental lady is nodding and agreeable and I have been enduring a touch of laryngitis for a couple of days and can barely squeak out my displeasure. I finally grab Saigon Sally's* arm and point to my chest and then my feet and over to the empty chair, a raspy scary sound coming from my squeezed esophagus and she looks at me with a primal fear in her eyes. Now she gets it and Barbie has to sit down, her mobile unit buzzing and she is engaged with her latest text message. Any satisfaction I would have gotten out of seeing her reaction was lost in the blank unblinking stare she put on that little box with the neon pink cover.
* no disrespect to the women of the eastern hemisphere, but it was my turn, goddamn it, pay attention.
4 comments:
There will always be young suple women. But just remember, most of them become fat and boring and have nothing to offer and sit around belting down the booze...like me, lol.
Booze is good.
And other things too
You takin' da pills or is it chocolate creme pie?
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