Hookers With Attitude

There are prostitutes running rampant around the city making everyone's lives a living hell. I don't mean the kind of prostitutes that wear one cowboy boot and a kitchen sieve on their head, but the kind that drive around in the big SUV's and honk at me. The ones that don't know how to drive, get intense road rage, and then blame their inability to steer and simultaneously press a gas or brake pedal, on me. Alright, they're probably not "hooker" hookers, but there's a good chance that they're doing someone old and rich...for money, and that's teetering on the exact definition. When I tell myself that they're hoes it makes me calm down a bit, like maybe, I'll let them off unscathed sans my middle finger in the rear view. Whatever gets you through the day right?

Once I got out of the sardine can that is downtown and onto the highway I felt much better; hookers will disperse and become less frequently encountered on highways. I think that was one of Newton's Laws or something, but then again, my highschool physics teacher did sign my yearbook by drawing a picture of me with my head on my desk beside the caption "In need of momentum Carmen?" Quite the clever one he was...

Nearing the end of my trip I saw a guy wearing tear aways, let me repeat that for added emphasis, TEAR AWAYS, yes the pants you can rip off your body in the blink of an eye, and I felt so betrayed. Wasn't there a collective action among "young people", an unwritten agreement that we would leave those in our elementary past? But then it clicked, the puzzle pieces started to come together in my sadly perplexed brain, hoes in escalades, juveniles wearing easily removable pants, HOOKER IS THE NEW BLACK.

It's not that girls all over the world haven't been dressing like hoes forever, but they definitely haven't all been making money! C'mon sweet thangs, you've gotta capitalize on that shit!