Murphy’s Law Is For Females Too

Yesterday was a banner day for the female race, as far as I am concerned. I saw each of the following in a three hour stretch from the time I departed the workplace until I arrived at the ole homestead.

I had a tennis match yesterday, so I stopped at 7-11 to pick up a quick snack to provide some sustenance in anticipation of a battle. There are two stores conveniently located to the courts. 7-11 is further away, but directly on the route. There is a local store just past the courts that is equally filthy, however it doesn’t have as good a selection. The 7-11 usually has some of the strangest characters in it, and yesterday was no exception. I followed this linebacker sized woman into the store. Her attire consisted of sandals, a “golf” skirt that was about a foot too short, and a lovely combo up top of a bikini with a 3x faded tank top (ripped in the centre) over it. Her chosen styling touch was to leave one strap of the tank top off her shoulder and couple the sandals with black polished toenails. She dropped her keys right before she got in there causing me to hide behind a Grand Am, for fear she would expose something. After entering the
store I realised that she was just the tip of the iceberg.

There were four women in the store, counting her, who conveniently all ended up in line directly ahead of me despite the fact that I solely grabbed a beef jerky and got in line. The first two had come together, and both featured what I would term “skater-chic” looks. The first had her hair dyed like a bumblebee, with half being yellow and half being black. The second went with the more typical jet black look to accent her piercings. They had bread, chips, soda, and of course cigarettes. Naturally they paid in credit. The third was the linebacker, who in my estimation was trying to consumer her 42oz’s of soda prior to paying for it. She turned to talk to the fourth lady when I noticed that the soda had attached itself to the perspiration on her upper lip. I also noticed when she smiled that every third tooth was black. I would’ve attributed it to meth if she weren’t so fat. The fourth – well she was a prize too. She bought milk (and
cigarettes), all while sporting a mesh shirt over a halter top. She was so tan that she actually resembled leather. I held my beef jerky up to her and it disappeared. I actually tried to scope out her northern assets, because I was convinced she was a dude by how deep her voice was. I left the store undecided. But, between the four of them I counted 19 visible tattoos (buying cigarettes is very time consuming which provided me a chance to count). While impressive, it didn’t match the efficiency of the woman last time with 15 that I counted.

Speaking of tattoos, after I finished my match I headed down the side street to get back to the main thoroughfare. Right before I got there I noticed two young ladies in the front yard of a house. One was standing there as the other was getting out of a car. The first ran to the second and immediately pulled up her shirt and pulled down her pant top to get a view of a freshly applied tramp stamp. I had just enough time to yell “Nice” as I streamed by. They didn’t seem to mind the extra attention.

Neither of these could hold a candle to what I saw next. I got on the highway, and got stuck behind an 18-wheeler. In the interim a sport bike cruised by, barely going faster than I. I noticed that the rider was of a slight build, and thought it could even be a female. Closer inspection of the sneakers showed that I was correct (they were those stupid ones with no true heel). I waited, and eventually swung to the speed lane and got a good look because you don’t see very many attractive laydees on the front of a crotch rocket. At about the same time she abruptly went into the exit lane. That particular exit ramp runs adjacent to the highway on a service drive before depositing you on one of many other exits. Anyway, as soon as she got into the lane she whipped out her cell phone with her left hand. It had one of those screens that pops up above the full keyboard. She proceeded to start texting on it. Let me say that again – she was texting,
one-handed, while riding a motorcycle. I watched her in the mirror to see when her helmet would look up, and it was only every 3 seconds or so. I cannot even express how stupid this is. What if she dropped it and tried to catch it? Hello – highside. What if she lost her balance? I could go on but I do not want to. So I won’t.

Shockedly yours,

5 thoughts on “Murphy’s Law Is For Females Too

  1. She’s the one that should be going through three weeks of car insurance hell combined with trying to find a new vehicle, while at the same time trying to find an osteopath to fix her back. Stupid “No Fault” state- I’m convinced it makes everyone around this state drive like crack-head bumper cars. If I see one more person texting at the wheel, I’m throwing whatever I can get my hands on first at them. No Fault that, m-f’ers.

    “Tramp Stamp-” is that a lower back tatoo? I thought those were called “Targets?”


  2. I thought about throwing something once. I had my pocket size Axe body spray ready to go but passed. Now I just write fun notes on sheets of paper with a Sharpie. In fact, I think I am going to create a mini-album, so I can just hold up the appropriate one like “What makes you think I will just let you merge at the last second?”

    Relative to tattoos, a “tramp stamp” is for any lass that is not your significant other. When she becomes your gf, wife, mistress, etc. it interestingly morphs into a “target.”


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