Boys will be boys
I was out walking last Friday evening. I saw a batch of young people (some guys, some girls) all dressed up and heading out to party. Now, the girls in this group's idea of dressing up consisted of lots of makeup and a pair of four-inch heels with matching four-inch miniskirt. Well, most of them. I'm still not convinced that last one was wearing a skirt at all. At least they were not teenagers, so while they were old enough to be dressed that way, they should have also been old enough to know better.
Trailing about 10 or 15 feet behind them, watching their every move, was a small group of teenage boys, leaving behind a trail of drool. The only ones that didn't have idiotic grins plastered on their faces were the ones that still hadn't managed to pick their jaws up off the floor.
I couldn't help it. I cracked up.
I love walking down the street alone, laughing myself silly. People give you such funny looks.
Trailing about 10 or 15 feet behind them, watching their every move, was a small group of teenage boys, leaving behind a trail of drool. The only ones that didn't have idiotic grins plastered on their faces were the ones that still hadn't managed to pick their jaws up off the floor.
I couldn't help it. I cracked up.
I love walking down the street alone, laughing myself silly. People give you such funny looks.