About the girl with tons of make-up on …

I was driving home from work after a hard day (I had been accused of being cause of some project failure, a company bankrupt and world war II) and I checked on Google Latitude if any of my friends were nearby. Looked like Henri was very close to my location so I texted him to grab some beers with me. Henri was an awesome friend. When we went out it was always big fun (except for the party when we woke up 2 days later in Paris, tied to a bed and … uhm … nevermind). Anyway, he texted me back he also was in the mood so I pulled over at a pub and we both stepped out of my car.

It was sunny and warm, so we stayed outside on the very nice terrace and ordered some beers. It was our first time here, although the pub is kinda close to my home. We weren’t alone, there was this 2 drunk women with a stupid tiny dog. They were ugly as hell (one looked like she was pregnant for 5 years now) and yelled at me the moment I tried to take a picture of them to share their ugliness on this bloggy.

A bit further, 2 girls were drinking cocktails. Their boobs reminded me of my trip to Silicon Valley, one year ago. I lost focus for some time …

…

Anyway, one of them was wearing tons of make-up. I was happy about that, because if she wasn’t wearing any, the title of the short story would be kinda stupid.

Now, you probably don’t know this, but the bar was very close to the red light district so we were guessing about the job of the girl with tons of make-up on and fake boobs. A teacher ? Maybe a nurse ? A carpenter ? Perhaps a girl that uses the word intermetatarsophalangeal bursitis in daily conversations ? But oh my god, she was wearing tons of make-up ! When she stood up to get something out of her car, her head was bouncing in every direction. The tons of make-up made her head very unstable and we were guessing weather it would fall off on the left side or the right side.

It didn’t fall off. Damn !

Henri and I were discussing our opening line (his idea was “hi”, mine was “hey”) when this Mercedes stopped next to the bar. Two pimps, dressed in suit and tie (damn, I also look like a pimp in real life) stepped out of the car and went straight to the girls. Some hugs and kisses, I lost interest and ordered another beer.

After this not much happened anymore. The girls went away with the pimps to the Mercedes, the girl with the tons of make-up on lost balance and her head banged on the car, making a big hole in it, the guys got upset and pushed her, she head-butted one of them, breaking his nose, the other one pulled a gun (pimps, you know) and shot her, she was all wet now (apparently it was a water pistol) and all the make-up started to drip off her face. It was fascinating, she was moving her head and painted ‘relativity’ from Escher on the ground with the dripping make-up. I took a pic.

Some days are different from others. Like this one. I didn’t cause world war II. That’s really mean to say that. And the project, it wasn’t my fault. It was his fault *points*, his fault *points*, his fault *points*. I’m off ! kthxbye !!