The B.O.D.
A friend and I used to spend our lunch hour at Ala Moana Center. After buying our lunches, rather than sitting inside the food court, we would find a bench near the shops and watch the women go by. Because there were often so many women to see, the buddy-system of girl watching was of great help. Between our bites of lunch, we would nonchalantly point out a hottie in case the other had missed her. This also helped in our voting process of determining our Babe of the Day, which we often refered to as The B.O.D.
One day while finishing up our lunches, a potential B.O.D. walked by. To my friend’s credit, he had spotted her first. She stood out from amongst the crowd, not only because she was wearing a short mini skirt and stiletto heels, but because she wore them well; very well.
My friend got up from the bench and declared that he must talk to her. I knew there was no point in arguing, as lust would hear none of it. We followed her from one end of the mall to the other, admiring her walk and sway along the way. I couldn’t help but notice as she walked that all the heads in the mall turned to her direction as if everyone were participating in some kind of sporting event wave.
She walked into Long’s drug store. After a few moments of hesitation, my friend decided to go in and talk to her. She was in the cosmetic section of the store, apparently trying on some sample lipsticks. I stood a few feet back as my friend approached her from behind.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I have got to know your name.”
She turned in what felt like slow motion. As she turned, we noticed that she had applied the lipstick to not only her lips, but to the one inch area surrounding her mouth. The lipstick gave her an apperance that resembled something between a scary clown and having just finished eating messy barbeque ribs. She smiled at my friend, and pronounced her name in a similar way that a four year old might pronounce the letter R with a W sound. Instead of Rose, she was Woes.