What are you glaring at, yes I’m staring at your daughter. This surprises you? Maybe if you stopped looking at me and looked to your right you’d see the problem here. Seriously don’t blame me, you’re the one who let her leave the house wearing that. It’s just a loose bit of fabric somewhat covering her nipples and a denim based bikini bottom thingy that kinda keeps part of her ass in (jeankini?). So your going to stand there and tell me that when y’all where leaving the house, she walked down the stairs wearing that and you thought  “oh you look pretty dear, just like a little angel, lets go out in public”? Now look you can continue to glare at me all you want, but it’s not my fault there is a natural selection based awkwardness of sexual attraction that makes guys my age desire to be face down in girls your daughters’ age while living in a culture that says that’s only cool if she’s a stripper and I’m rich or have coke.

Perhaps you should look at that girl walking on the other side of the street, I actually have to work to get an image of her naked in my head. See how all of her important bits are covered, that leaves question marks about specific sizes, and shapes that I then have to fill in with my own mind. She could have those little dimple things on her lower back? She may have tattoos, large areolas, freckles or huge nipples? I don’t know, and that’s the point, sometimes it just becomes too much effort to figure out. All of that mental undressing takes a bit of time and effort on my part and as such I’m just not going to do it. Your daughter on the other hand, left none of that for me to do. It’s like her naked body just jumped up right into my imagination against my will ass up and tits flap’n took over and started grinding. That’s not my fault, it’s yours.

If it’s any consolation you won’t have to worry about these kinds of awkward arousal based social interactions at traffic lights happening for too much longer. She has that trying too hard look about her, since she also has that body is going to go all to hell in five years look about her too. Trust me, after her first pregnancy, which will probably happen any day now, that thing is going all to shit. You can see it now, baby fat is only cute when they’re young, in five years it’ll just be regular old fat. I know it, you know it, and she knows it. Hell that’s why she’s dressing like this in the first place. She need to land a guy now while she can. I’m sure her plan is to find one who has the possibility of being able to work, get him locked in as a baby daddy as soon as possible and hope it all works out in the end. It won’t though. Even if she decides to pick one that isn’t a total shithead looser just to piss you off she’ll still end up lying around the house doing nothing all day but getting fatter. All the while her four year old runs around out of control and learning how to dress like a whore just like her mommy did, and I’m betting you did before that. Ahh the cycle of whores.

I can see you getting angrier at me, but the light will change soon and you’re the one who looks more like a pimp than a mother standing there. Now look, I’m not demanding she wear a burka. Hell I’m not even saying she shouldn’t show it a bit, or even a lot. But that’s slightly less than beach attire and I’m not in “beach mode”. You know beach mode, where you see so much skin that after 5 minutes of whirling your head around you’re just too exhausted and desensitized to it and don’t give a fuck anymore. See I’m not at a beach and I’m not desensitized to it. I’m at a stoplight in Baltimore, so I have fuck all to look at other than your clothing deficient daughter and that fat fucking guy in a wife beater over there, that other fat guy in a wife beater over there, and that really skinny guy in a wife beater. Actions have consequences, and her wardrobe actions have the consequence of me staring at her.

So mom, you can stop glaring and calling me a a dirty old man in your head… that sentence is redundant anyway and this light just turned green, so good luck with all of that I’m sure the next time I see you, you’ll be a grandparent.