Tri-Hot and the YoYo
And if the Friday Haiku didn’t fire you up for the weekend, this classic Yo-Yo should. Three absolute cuties who do not appear to be paid performers (but I could be wrong), draped all over his facial pubed, ‘bag hand gesturing, army shirted douchebaggery. And what’s with the club marking on lower left’s pixie? Did they use a paint gun on her hand? Whatever happened to the subtle stamp? It’s like they’ve been branded for tomorrow’s cattle sale.
Almost as bad as the HCwD couple I saw at Trader Joes last night. There I was, innocently buying my weekly supply of Joe-Joe’s cookies in the cookie aisle when, pushing their cart with utter self importance, was a greased up rocker ‘bag, and his stage-4’d Bleethed out cutie. Coming right at me. Making lots of “Woo!” and “Grunt” noises as they approached.
The problem is, once you spot an annoying HCwD couple in a supermarket, you have to spend the next twenty minutes trying to time your cart to go up one aisle while they’re going down the other aisle to avoid the awkward cart lineup in the same section. It’s like an intricate slow moving ballet of avoidance.
So I managed to generally avoid their douchitude (and minimize my exposure to the Grieco virus), until checkout, at which point they planted their cart filled with annoying vegan foods and alcohol directly behind mine.
Nowhere to run, I had to endure a solid five minutes of douchebag’s breathy talk to his annoying cutie about how “hot” she was looking. It was almost enough to make me try to commit suicide-by-Charles-Shaw-Wine, which if you’ve ever seen it, is an ugly way to go.
What does that have to do with this pic? Not much. I do love it when Midwestern college girls try to get freaky and it’s so very awkward, like it is for the brunette standing in this pic. There’s something hot about that awkwardness. It’s the sex appeal of the clueless amateur.
