House of Boobs

Tonight I was working at House of Boobs and pulled out a writing pad I had grabbed from the SOL office before I left work there this afternoon and, on the front of it, in block writing, read "Bitch Face" with hearts around it.  This seems to just about sum up the bulk of my big-breasted, twenty something year old co-workers.  As if being 12 didn't suck enough the first time I have now entered round 2.  Anyways, so I headed to the ladies room after I had checked on all my customers, walked passed two women standing in front of the sink, and went into one of the two stalls (I often choose the handicapped one, I find the extra space offers me a diluted sense of freedom when I'm stuck serving tables all day).  I sat down to pee and suddenly a bright light started flashing and I hear, "girl you look so good tonight, take another one *click*, ya, your hair looks sooo good, lets get one together now, ahahaha *click*, seriously girl, you look soooo good tonight.  I love that top on you *click click*.  I sat on the toilet thinking to myself, holy shit, I'm in Orange County!  This, my friends,
is the land where people incessantly call one another girl and they pose for pictures of each other in the women's wash room.  I walked out of the stall and squeezed through the two busty blonds and the one looked at me as I was about to wash my hands and said, "oh, we'll have 2 more Belvederes and Cranberries".  Seriously.  This is the land where grown women call one another "bitch face" as they heart the i's, the one were breasts are, well, fuck the metaphors, they speak for themselves, the one where women dress up in a sliced up version of a prom dress to hang out at a neighborhood sports bar, and where it's apparently acceptable to pose for pictures in the washroom as you place orders to your server while she's exiting a stall after taking a leek.  It's a land where men's triceps outweigh their minds, and probably their dicks, and their existence is validated by the number of unoriginal tattoos they have on their bodies.  I have to say, I walked out of there tonight feeling quite refreshed.  Similar to how a caterpillar must feel when it's ass has been hanging out in bird shit all day, partially violated by the bird that shit on it's leaf, but also quite exhilarated once the shit finally dries up and chips right off.  From now on, those guys are all "Chip" to me, fresh shit that will eventually chip off once they dry up.  And trust me, it's sunny California, in time, that shit always dries up.