Coming back from an important errand (buying princessy dresses at this time of year is a little like trying to find your lost way out of a neighbourhood of newly built homes that all look exactly the same - hopeful that you've turned in the right direction, but dismayed to find that the pink house you want isn't available in toddler size), my friend Stephanie and I saw the back end of a woman walking down the street.
And I mean that literally.
She was wearing the most see-through pair of flimsy white pants? pajamas? a scarf? It was hard to tell because we were so distracted by the fact that she was either not wearing any underwear at all or possibly the world's thinnest thong, but in either case, we could not tear our eyes away from her bouncing ass. Why bother with fabric AT ALL?
Moments after that, a shirt-and-tie-and-matching-shoes man was waiting to cross the street, directly opposite us. One hand down his pants, left leg cocked at the knee to get just the right angle. And he was scratching his balls. Digging and scratching and more digging and god, help me, would he get his hands out of his pants already?
That lead me to wonder whether Hungry Bum-girl and Hungry Balls-boy know each other and if they do? They should totally get married and have babies and they will live happily ever after as the Ballsy Bouncing Bums Family.
Clothing optional.
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