We went to Applebee's for dinner yesterday. About halfway through, a party of about 10 people came in for a birthday party. The kid looked to be about six or so. There were two couples, a single guy, and about five or six kids.
A lady carrying a very large package wrapped in birthday paper created a stir. It wasn't because she struggled with the box. It was because of her appearance.
Her hair was jet black. Like Sharpie on clean white paper. It was the kind of black that nature never intended. Blacker than black. Industrial black. Let's just say that the box of die she used didn't promise any natural highlights.
She had two half sleeves of tattoos. I'm not against free expression, and I'm not saying that women shouldn't have tattoos; some are very tasteful and even kinda sexy. But she had the kind of tats that badass bikers may view as a little bold. Let's just say that they were colorful and leave it at that.
Our lady had a boob job. I'm not against that at all. But there's a time and place to be proud of your assets and Applebee's during dinner rush is neither the time nor the place. Unless the Applebee's is in Sturgis and has a stripper pole, shot chairs, and cabins out back for regulars to stay in during the Black Hills Rally.
I couldn't see her shoes. I can imagine that they probably sported a nice, long heel of some sort. But she may have been the type to rock combat boots as a way to complete her ensemble, but I can't be sure.
The piece de resistance, however, and the inspiration for the title of this blog, was what she was wearing. Remember the scene in "Bull Durham" when Annie barges in to Crash's house while he's ironing and drinking whiskey? She's wearing a white outfit and short shorts and Crash says, "Who dresses you? Don't you think this is a little excessive for the Carolina league?" Perfect.
Our lady was wearing what looked like a long white t-shirt that she had modified for full shock value. I can't imagine that you can buy that garment, but maybe I just haven't spent enough time at Hussies-R-Us.
It was backless, for the most part, and open down to the small of her back. I could see a thin, metal chain across her back, and I honestly don't know what that is.
It was low cut, but did I really have to say that or did you assume quite correctly that it was? It was loose, so it offered ample opportunity for her to show off the cleavage if she was so inclined.
But not our lady. No. That would have been... ummmm... tasteful.
This garment was slit up the sides. As I said, it was loose, and every time she turned, or bent over to arrange birthday gifts, you could see all that the good doctor blessed her with. Side boob, and plenty of it.
She wasn't wearing a bra, or anything that could have been mistaken for one. Ashley tried to describe some bra type device that kind of suctions to the breast to offer lift and nipple coverage, but I think our lady would probably reserve that for church or a funeral or something more formal than Applebee's on a Thursday.
I wish I could have taken a picture, and I hope my words are descriptive enough that you get the full effect of what we witnessed. I really thought I should go over and give her a few singles because I think she purposely wanted to call attention to herself in a way that only the hard-working ladies at Million Dollar Babes can. I'm not being judgmental, mind you; I'm just trying to be funny. Self-expression is a wonderful thing and if you want to show off your assets at Applebee's, that's fine.
I just wonder what she wears to work.
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