Peace. I love dudes. Seriously, I do. Especially when we’re all in common accord about a fine woman. You know what I’m talking about. When the group of fellas are standing around shootin’ the shït and a bad chick with a mean figure walks past. Conversation stops. Eyes fixate. Dude with his back turned astutely reads the faces of his mans before him and quickly 180s (or subtly if he has any kind of cool to him but fµck it, everybody else is already staring) to observe the fine dime feline responsible for this temporal paralysis. Mmm.
Once she finishes her sexy-walkby routine, the group has some choice words about her åss-to-waist ratio and then the shït shootin’ ensues without missing a beat. You’ve just witnessed a male bonding moment.
The best male bonding moments happen around dudes that don’t even know one another. Each is just minding his own business when the fine dime feline interrupts and borrows their concentration. A dude will recognize he’s staring and then quickly recognize that other men are staring as well. The communication that follows goes something like this:
Benge: *shoots the wide-eyed “you see that åss?” glance at nearby dude*
Nearby dude: *returns wide-eyed glance with accompanying nod and whistle contortion of mouth, followed by a few hard blinks and shaking of the head*
You see that? We didn’t even need to say anything to one another. We know what’s up. And being as I’m all super observant and on sexy-walkby standby all the time, I’m occasionally alerted to a fine dime feline before my fellow one-track-minders. This affords me the time to get my fix, regain my senses, and then watch as all the other guys start breaking their necks.
Heh. Heh. Heh.
I love my fellas. We some straight dudes, ain’t we?