Once I recovered from the intial shock of so much bad fashion and body odor, I adjusted my sensible sweater and headed for my car. Navigating my way through the maze of pick up hackey sack games and empty Coors light cans proved slightly difficult in high heels, but I made it to the Corolla unscathed. Except for a few unfortunate pick up lines from two glassy-eyed hippies, the experience wasn't as traumatic as it could have been.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Get your stinkin dreadlocks off me you damn dirty hippie
Leaving work the other day, I detected the faintest aroma of Patchouli. As I rounded the corner into the parking lot I ran straight into a sea of white guy dreadlocks and bad facial hair. Apparently Widespread Panic was playing a show at the Fox theatre and the parking lot had turned into a massive, tie-dyed tailgate party.
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2 comments:
I think you're being unfair. When I found you reeking of Baby Soft perfume and handing out bracelets emblazoned with "Ang + Me = BFF" to anyone within arm's length during our brief but memorable encounter in the parking lot outside Hannah Montana earlier, I didn't get all the Honorable Judge Judgerson about it, now did I?
What sweater is sensible when it is 80 degrees in October, Angela? Please.
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