friday night in a small, small town

Just in case anyone wanted to know, my sisters totally rock. Oh, excuse me: are completely fabulous. But let me explain.
Porkchop got a call about modeling in a hair show this weekend, so she put aisde previous roots of bitterness and went. (She’ll explain later, but that’s where she is this weekend.) I went along for moral support. It didn’t take as long as anticipated, so we were all dressed up with a long Friday night stretched before us.
Debated like crazy, and finally decided to be the most cliched people on the planet and see a movie. PIcked up tickets for a late showing, went and grabbed some dinner, and still had time. Since we live in Podunkville, where cow tipping is seriously an option, there aren’t many options. We decided to go to the mall and people-watch from behind sunglasses with snarky commentary. That was terrifically entertaining, especially since everything sounds better when said in an English accent.
We Barbie finally arrived, we tried to find seats in the theater, but every time we sat down, there were wet substances around. We moved three times, much to the amusement of the skater types observing us.
After we got settled, as the previews began to roll, a nineteen-year-old came up and sat with us. I had to give him credit; while most thirty-year-olds will whistle or at least stare at the three of us, they can’t quite summon the courage to speak to us.
Ah, the brash confidence of youth. And the scintillating blandness of a small town.

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~ by wildeyedwonder on June 4, 2005.

2 Responses to “friday night in a small, small town”

  1. You forgot to mention the running for our lives bit, while hiding behind moving vehicles part.

    Now THAT was fun.

  2. Details! More details! Hehe.

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