Last night during the
French Horn Rebellion concert at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania's The Brillo Box, a really freaking Hot Girl stood seemingly unnoticed for the entire three-hour show, as a group of much less attractive and slightly younger males plotted elaborate ways to approach the freaking Hot Girl; inevitably, they
wussed out.
(hot like the girl on the right hot)The most muscular of the boys, who wore a red backwards ball cap, suggested, "I know! I'll act like I'm really wasted, and then I'll walk up to her and hit on her and stuff like a big jerk, then you come up and pretend you're saving her from me!"
His much skinnier wing man said, "OK! That will totally work!" Of course they never executed this plan, nor any of the other twelve suggested; instead, they stood in various corners of the room, staring at her freaking Hot Ass all night, periodically pretending to go to the bathroom so they could walk very close to her.
Further complicating the Hot Girl's utter hotness, her male counterpart stood just 12 inches to her left, decked out in skinny jeans and displaying a elaborately fanned, bleach-
blonde faux-hawk.
The token Jewish boy of the group recanted, "No, it was beyond a
faux-hawk. It was, like, shaved on the sides."
(kind of like this, only a lot worse)The
faux-hawked tool remained aloof throughout the night, but he occasionally held hands with the Hot Girl and let the freaking Hot as hell Girl's head rest on his shoulder. The gaggle of boys heavily debated the Tool's role in her life.
"No way man. He's totally gay! He's definitely not her boyfriend," said the designated driver. Two others agreed with him, which split the group's consensus (3 yes he is the gay friend vs. 3 no he is the boyfriend). The inability to articulate a common agreement on the Tool's sexual orientation proved to be the boys' tragic downfall.
Half way through the show, a really freaking Nasty Guy started talking to the really freaking Hot Girl. The Boyfriend Believers were shocked at her
faux-hawked counterpart's lack of concern with this flirtatious encounter. Even after this affirmation of the Hot Girl's likely single status, the six boys continued to remain a safe, observatory distance away, staring at her ass, and repeating things like, "Damn, I should just do it.
Ok, I'm doing it. No, fuck this. I'm getting another drink."
After the last song of the night and dozens of subtle, failed attempts at getting her attention, the really freaking Hot Girl trotted into the darkness, trailing her counterpart, likely never to be seen again. The defeated boys filed out of the bar moments later, and the skinny one sadly muttered, "Damn, that hot girl was so freaking hot.
Damnit. What the fuck."
The boys said they are looking forward to next weekend's concert at The Brillo Box, where they asserted there should be "
lot's of hot girls" again.
Ich muss beim Schuh-Fetisch so mancher Dame schon manchmal in mich reingiggeln und habe das Thema schon lange als naturgegeben abgehakt. Eine Begründung dafür habe ich trotzdem nicht. Having said that: Wie supercool sind denn bitte diese Huf-Highheels? Jede Dame, die einen davon zusammen mit einem Standard-Schwarzleder-Highheel trägt, würde ich auf der Stelle heiraten. Huf-Highheels für Devils Girls. Aaaaaaaw!
