Sweater Puppies

they circled me, like vultures smelling dying body. these Orange County women were vultures, at least from what i could tell. they didn't so much look trashy, as they did look cheesy and rotten. ideal mates for douche bag unoriginal macho testosterone fueled males. i cringed as they got near me, their perfume tickled my nose and i wanted to sneeze and cough all at once. fake tan, blond hair, blue eyes, clothing that represented some far transplant from somewhere upstate New York, or perhaps the Jersey Shore. these were not women, they were Barbie dolls, and if this is what women were suppose to look like, then this country has gotten the images so ass backwards that we might as well start drinking the kool aide and stop asking for anything more. it was not only the older cougar roaming women who bore this wretched look, i could see the little cubs in training already, the young 20 something girls with surgically implanted smiles sucking on their iced coffee yammering on about themselves in a positive light.  not offering an opinion about anything, agreeing with anyone who would validate their severe lack of personality and hopelessly looking for that male who would provide them with "security".

the common thread between these women, and the one i've been noticing for sometime now, is their intent on showing off their breast (or as i like to call them "sweater puppies").  how far have we come as humans? does the size of your breast directly coincide with your intelligence? why don't you leave just a little bit to the imagination? do you have to show almost all of them? the more you show the more attention right? do you really want all that attention if you're just going to whine about how men won't see beyond your body and be gentlemen like? i get it, maybe you like dirty bastards like that who make you feel bad? or maybe you just like  dressing with low cut shirts? perhaps, women don't even know they're doing this, and are clueless to the result that they have on the male mind? i will admit, i love me some fine  breast, but when a girl just puts them out there like that, on display, it makes me want to not even approach them. i've already seen it, there's no mystery left. and if you're the kind of girl that feels the need to fill that empty void inside of you by doing so, and along with it being obedient like, then you've stop  being human and have become a piece of work. you're just something they trot around like a damn fine mare, the rabbit at the greyhound, or the dogs at the dog show. humans have thoughts, ideas, imagination, integrity and values.  

you have none of those

but your're pretty and have big tits.

why do i want to talk to you again?