Post★Boy

Post★GF and I were having dinner in a crowded Manhattan restaurant. Unfortunately, it was not crowed enough to drown out the cackles from a group of transplants* two tables down.

One voice in particular, rose above the others, causing Post★GF to, too often, grab her ear in pain.

As we suffered along with the other patrons, a woman walks by dressed in pink from head to toe, literally. Even her goddamn shoes were pink. I lean over to Post★GF and say “That is the loudest one.” Assuming that is it just guesswork on my part, I support my theory with a standard that I have maintained most of my life;

Girls (as in not women, never women) that wear a lot of pink are likely the most vile of vile. They still live in the Barbie Dream Houses of their tiny minds, where they are daddy’s little girl, drive all the best cars, are a fairy princess, ballerina and most importantly coddled by that brainfart named Ken.

Fuck that noise.

Trust me fellas, you every see a girl drenched in pink, run the other way. Run fast, run hard, run deep. This delusional deb will make your life a living hell in any and all ways. She is a that annoying coworker, more annoying friend of your friend, bitchy friend of your girlfriend and God help you if you date her. If you date her you are doomed. Put the barrel in your mouth, do not spin the cylinder.. just squeeze.

This ends this public service announcement.

*Transplants are the Jersey, Bay Ridge, Long & Staten Island types that have moved to NYC and have yet to shake the stank from their style, mannerisms & general state of being.