Big DF
There's this woman at work, who I will refer to as, "The Cajun." I've known her for my entire five year stint at the 'beermans. She's really S and N. (I will now be using this phrase frequently, it stands for sick and nasty.) These sentences seem short with little to no transition. Oh well, sue me. So she's totally S and N, and devoid of personality and... homely. And a bitch. And as the story goes...Cajun. Which I always thought was a genre of cuisine, but what do I know. She's been over heard saying, "it's my Cajun genetics." The quote is humorous, don't get me wrong, but the fact it was in regards to her appearance is even more humorous. She's the color of cinder....as in the block. Her hair is consitently slicked back in what I can only imagine to be Dep gel. And the best part, is her slacks, which are a good 6-8 inches too short. Fine, wear short pants, I don't recommend it, but shit happens. But please, PUH-LEASE, don't acccentuate it with white athletic sock and brown loafers. Anywho, her teeth, in the words of Molly P. Martin, are marigold color. Or as Molly P. Martin would also say, corn kernel tidbits.