September 26, 2003

Of wine, women & song

Actually forget the songs and the wine and let me just diatribe a bit about women. I just made a run to my favorite hangout, the convenience store owned my friend, John Parker, just up the street from my abode.* The moment I walked in, I saw what had to be the most perfect human female I have ever seen. She was somewhere between 17 and 21, it being so hard to tell anymore, and had a body that made my tongue literally hang out of my mouth, and then had a face that was about as perfect as any I had ever seen. Her eyes were radiant and sparkly, as was her personality, and she had these pouty lips and cute little button ears and what was about the most exquisite bobbed nose that I had ever seen. Yes, for some reason it was not her pert perky little derriere that I found to be attractive, it was not the way her perfectly rounded breasts pushed hard against the pink spangled top she was wearing, but it was her nose. Oh, my eyes took it all in, and my brain told me that I was born much too early in life. I did wish that her top had been one of those bare midriff sorts that would have allowed me a gander at her navel, but alas, some things will have to be left to imagination. I saw no piercings in her nose, lip or tongue, and expect since the navel was not exposed, nothing pierced its beauty as well. She left and I just wondered who she was and where her life would take her. In a perfect world, she would have been the mother of my children.

Alas, however, the world is not perfect. In fact, the world has gotten quite bizarre, especially when it comes to young women. Here we were, three middle-aged men sitting around a convenience store, all of us admiring this beautiful feminine creation. Then another one comes in, and one of the people knows her from way back. She says hi to him and tells him that her child has just turned two and is doing well. Ron, the clerk that was familiar with her, says that she was a nasty girl even when she was young and he was quite sure she would end up pregnant sooner or later, and she did. I am thinking this girl was about 16 or 17.

Where was the daddy of her baby? In the pen, most likely. That seems to be the general rule of thumb for young women of this day and age in our community in their choice of men. They seem to all crave to have sex with the guys that are trouble: the ones that get into fights, the ones that use drugs, and the ones that have tattoos all over their bodies. Every gal wants to be a gangster moll, I guess. Of course, most of them turn out being single mothers of children whose fathers have disappeared or ended up in the big house for an extended stay. As I said, the world is getting bizarre, or at least it has gotten so in my little corner of the world.

*I have always dreamed of having an adobe abode. Now how cool is that?

Posted by notGeorge at September 26, 2003 11:07 PM