I realized that I haven’t blogged another “bar story” since my first installment – and I happened to tell a friend this one today, so I figured I’d share with the group while it’s fresh in my head.
Maybe a month or 2 ago, I was at karaoke night, as per usual. Eventually, the time came where I needed to head back to the homestead.
There’s a group of guys hanging out on the corner, and upon closer inspection, they are drinking beer (and also brandy, as I’ll find out later). On the corner. Outside of a bar. Whatever.
As I walk closer, the looks start, and one of them says, “Damn, Girl! Is that thickness for real?”
What I think: “No, you have NO idea how much I paid for these hip and ass implants!”
What I actually say: “Um…yes?”
Because, you know, I can’t actually give my snarky little quip to people I don’t know. One must be polite to new acquaintances, after all. Then the murmurs and whistles commence. Because I am an idiot and I am nice and I like attention, I walk over and chit-chat for a few. They offer me beer (and brandy), which I politely decline. When more than one of the men on the corner decide that they’d like to feel my thickness (to somehow prove it’s realness, I suppose?), I bid them goodnight and make my polite and hasty exit.
IS MY THICKNESS REAL?!?! Who asks that?
