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Saturday night in Hickville I've discovered that drunk hicks at bowling alleys have no tolerance or sense of humor for a group of girls dressed up wacky for a birthday party. The only other time I've seen so many mullet-topped heads turn is at Nascar, but they weren't cheering for Gordon and waving their Number 3 flags this time. I guess we disturbed their beer-guzzling, cigarette-smoking, spit-swapping night of bowling. We should be the pissed-off ones, not you, seeing as I got the worst headache ever as soon as I walked in because of your cloud of filth, and the shoe guy would rather talk to his slutty girlfriend than get me a size 6. This one guy came up to us and said that his friends bet him to tell us we looked "shitty as hell." Well, sorry dude, but your lack of substantial growth in the tooth area and your apparent inability to change shirts once in a while suggests that you already look shitty as hell, and I'm pretty sure you're not trying to. Carly had her (awesome) digital camcorder (so jealous) with her, and she pretended to be taping me so she could catch some reactions. What offends people so much about us dressing in big hair, bad makeup and tacky clothes? That's what they wear all the time. We didn't bother anyone. And, ma'am? If I can call you that? We picked up your 8 ball on accident. No need to get bitchy. Shoo, now, go back to your camo-clad boyfriend's lap. Wait, you're being nice to us now? Oh...I see. You're drunk off your ass. God. People.Other than that, we had a great time. Screw them. 2002-12-22 @ 5:36 p.m. |