Hot damn, Dunkin

Pat and I got coffee last night at the Dunkin where all the bikers hang out. I wish there was a better place to get coffee, but it was quick and I was really good about not ordering a chocolate frosting doughnut and we were just killing time before our friends got home – we were meeting them at their house, near the Dunkin.
We couldn’t sit outside because the bikers were sitting in all the seats, so we headed back to the car. But when I walked out the door I almost walked smack-dab into some woman’s crotch. Her tits out, stenciled into some guy’s white shirt. Her legs wide open. She was much much too open and way way too close. And if I were that guy, I would feel some exposed woman on my back all day – how can he not feel that? I have no idea if the guy was a biker or not. He was sort of off on his own. I have nothing against bikers except they drive down my street too fast and it’s loud, but do people just not see what they put on anymore? I can only imagine him looking at this tshirt on a rack saying “sweet shirt” with a head nod and perhaps I should have told him that the reason he’s wearing this shirt on his back is because he’ll never get a woman like that under his front – if you know what I mean…
Did I mention they sell ice cream there? Where children usually tend to linger?

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2 Responses to Hot damn, Dunkin

  1. The question, What are people thinking? comes up a lot. And I fear the answer is, they’re not. Ah, democracy and freedom of expression.

    • rachvb says:

      It does! it does!
      Donald Trump?
      Scary.
      Dern, that freedom of expression
      …and thank god for it…
      sometimes.
      No, OK, it’s a good thing.

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