Dear Mr "Cowboy Baby":
You are not Kid Rock. Please lose the dirty, bleach blonde, scraggly-ass long hair, scruffy goatee thing, LEATHER fedora, and ratty, "I swear I've been riding a horse. A hooker named horse!" jeans.
I realize you think that if you dress like this, you may be able to score someone like Pam Anderson....but, you are not in LA. You are in a suburban/country town in Oregon. You will wind up w/ someone like the person I will next address.
Dear "OMFG, WHAT IS THAT??",
Um....while I have nothing against "large" women....I mean, I am not Nicole Ritchie myself (thank god), but, I am also not 500 pounds. And, I'd like to think that even if I was, I would NOT be wearing what you seemed to think was great evening wear for a MONDAY NIGHT in a town w/ no night life.
Really, I applaud your jean mini skirt that hid NONE of your business, 4 inch clunky heels that you had no idea how to walk in, lacy see thru shirt that ALSO hid none of your OTHER business, and....and..... your SPECTACULAR thigh high black fishnet stockings.
They were all a special treat to behold.
Especially since the stockings were partially rolled down. And had skin/fat already trying to escape out of all the holes in the fishnet. I swear I actually think I heard the nylon screaming "hellllp meeeeeeeeee".
I'd like to think that if I was that big and dressed like THAT, (or actually, even if I had a ridiculously perfect body, and dressed like that) that someone would double bolt the doors to my house, and refuse to let me leave. I'd even understand if a stun gun needed to be involved.
But, hey! Look on the bright side! I think Kid Rock over there might think you're hot!! I mean, give him a bottle of scotch, and he'll be sure to watch your..... Hey! Speaking of, I think you owe us all some scotch!
An Amazed Fellow Shopper.