One thing about old women annoys me immensely. Let me explain.
I went to a bar yesterday, like I sometimes do on Saturday nights. I was peacefully sipping my drink at the counter when suddenly one of those old women showed up. Clearly had more than a few drinks already, wearing ridiculously trashy makeup (definitely not done by a makeup artist). She had on a skimpy, overly tight dress that looked like it belonged to a teenage party girl, with cleavage practically spilling out. She winks at me and starts openly suggesting sexual stuff. Every time I go to a bar, it’s the same story.
And what really gets on my nerves—seriously pisses me off to the point my blood stops circulating—is that you can’t get them out of the house on Sunday morning before noon, no matter what. She’s still snoring in the bedroom even though it’s almost 11.
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