“Soooz Says Stuff!” ‘It’s A Girl Thing.” AKA “The Girl’s Night Out” Unapologetically Politically Incorrect.

 I recently posted ‘It’s A Guy Thing” and being the fairest of people, of course I need to express the viewpoints of the ‘Opposing team.’

Thus we come to “It’s A Girl Thing.”

Let’s take a look at a fairly typical “Girl’s Night Out.” An Ancient, revered, and oft’ misunderstood ritual.

Picture this … Location … A Singles Bar in a Big city, anywhere.

WHEN … Every Saturday night. Unless said Saturday night occurred in conjunction with a full moon. When all the smartest of bars remained shuttered and closed.

Paramedics? … On stand by.

Cops? … They’ll wait and see how this one pans out.

Welcome to ‘Tabitha Tabbies’ Girl’s night out.

The Girls Night Out is an ancient mating ritual, oft’ misunderstood. The premise being that one of the clan is tying the ribbon soon. She is leaving the clan to begin a clan of her own. To celebrate they band together and hunt en-masse. Their prey? Must be male and preferably breathing.

I’ll be your tour guide for the evening. Don’t hope for David Attenborough, and you wont be disappointed. Whenever necessary I’ll translate the girl/guy text-speak into a language that hopefully even men can understand.

Things you need to know to help the visual imagery along …

Item 1.

You need to be aware that these locations have invisible wall of separation; AKA ‘Keep your ass in your own space, bitch!‘

Item 2.

Each segment of the room houses it’s own clearly definable group.

Thus we have … Group one: The girls label them as ‘The Desperate and Dateless.’ The guys label them “A Sure Thing”

Group two: The girls label them as ‘We clearly don’t belong here.’ The guys label them ” Reconstructions.”

Group three: The girls label them ‘The Kindy Kids’. The guys label them as “The FORBIDDEN ZONE.”

Lets briefly visit each group one by one. Listen in to one of the conversations … and the translation.

Please be aware that as the translator I am provided my non-watered-down drinks for free.

GROUP 1.

“Oh my god, it’s gonna be one of those nights! Look who just strutted her reconstructed ass through the door.” Felicity Furball hissed her displeasure.

Translation! (Two drinks in) Oh god I have to get the name of her surgeon!  Her ass looks seriously amazing.

“Dahling Katrina! It’s so wonderful to see you! You’ve been gone for weeks. I’ve missed you.” Felicity purred out the words. “You look so well rested.”

Translation! Oh, crap, don’t sit here!  I haven’t had a botox update for weeks..

Air kisses erupt at the table and the selfie pandemic begins.

Meanwhile over at GROUP two,  at the “We clearly don’t belong here.” table, Miss -Directed was airing her views on the gathering. She also gave her new boobs an airing as well.

“Wow! Eyes left, kittens. We have dream candy on approach to the bar!’ she squealed with happy anticipation, being careful not to smile too hugely less the laughter lines give her the look of ‘Yoda’ on steroids.

DREAM CANDY Charlie Hunnam

 

Yoda on Steroids.

Translation. (Four drinks in) I saw him first, so keep your grubby paws off!

“He seems quite … er … young-ish.” said Miss -Apprehension.

Translation  (Six drinks in) “I’m old enough to be hish … older shister. Oh all right then, aunt!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just the lighting.” Said everyone else at the table.

Transhlashun = (Stopped counting drinks a while back)  “don’t bring the resht of the group down, bitch. Let ush have our fantashy!

And the selfie pandemic continued.

Ah, then we come to Group three. The ‘Kindy Kids” enclave.

Where, everyone talked at once, sometimes even face to face,(Gasp!) but way more often they would text. Most of the conversations went something like this,

“So, I’m like, what the? (Insert confused face … 😕)thus.  What’s with the guys here? They look, like, you know, seriously old.” Says Miss Prudence.

Translayersh … Yeah … so they shaid , I’m utterly confushed! Can anyone exshplain to me why the guysh here are shignificantly older than ush?

“Some of them are like, you know, not too bad.” (Insert Smiling face)😊 thus,  “Says Miss Conception.

Trans whatsis!  = “I dishagree (But not strenuoushly,) ’cause I did not utilishe um youtilishe  … I didn’t ushe a (Insert Angry Fashe)😠

“You’re kidding me, right? They are like in their twenties or worse!” (Insert wheelchair symbol ♿)

Yeah, what she shaid = “I think you’re joking. You mush be! You’re eyeshight clearly needsh checking. (Insert Optometrist symbol) or as close as you can get. 😷

Much laughter is of course shared at the very thought of someone in their twenties being out so late.

And then = Lol, lol, lol,😆😆😆  rotflmao. 🤣

“Oh, wait!  Look at the one in the Armani threads. He’s like, to die for!” Said Miss Directed (Insert Angel) 👼

Yup = “Jush a moment! The man wearing the Armani suit ish devilishly attractive! (Insert picture of the impossibly attractive Mr J. Depp) just because this is my blog and I’m allowed to.)

Much groaning ensues at such an obvious gaffe.

So they all do the Sigh! thing. I can’t translate it, but it’s you know, kinda like the sound you make when your partner at the time says something really diabolically stupid. Yeah sort of a whooshing, hissing noise.

“Baby-girl, what are you thinkin‘??? (Insert laughing face)😛  One of his x’s would kill you!(insert Angry Face)😠 🌟 These hotshots don’t live in the real world. I’m like, serious. (insert serious face) “😖

I now have 911 on speed dial (Which would do me no good whatsoever ’cause our code down here in Australia for Emergency responders is 000)=

Anywaysh … “What the hell, are you batshit crazy? I’m not kidding around here. Have you seen his ex?

“Oh. I’m like, so, you know,  embarrassed. (Insert embarrassed face) Says Miss-Directed😱.Yadda yadda = “I’ll approach him later when this lot are gone.

“It’s like, okay. Whatever? So, you DO know how to pick out the married ones, right?”

‘slayshun. = “You re forgiven. It doeshn’t matter. Please reasshure me that you would recognishe a married man if you shaw one.”

“By their look of abject misery?”

Um … = I threw that one in just ’cause it made me laugh.

“I’m like, serious, girlfriend! You like, need to look for the white-place where their wedding bands were, up till, like, an hour ago … unless you know, like maybe the poor thing’s just been ditched.”

Uh-oh = (Insert Shtern Face) 😡But not your mother’s. “I kid you not! Theshe guysh take off their wedding ringsh and ‘ccordingly exposhe the thin band of white where the shun failed to penetr… um shine. You are in deepesh-do-do if they are newlywedsh, and have yet to have worn the ring long enough for a mark to appear.  Sigh. Unlesh the guy is badly on the rebound and looksh utterly helplesh, and then your assh is hish!

“Eeew! That is so, like, creepy. My dad, like, would not do something like that; and he’s like, you know, married.”

“To your Mom?”

lol…Sorry!

“Like, I know, right. For the second time, even. Go figure!”

So, yeah … “I’m pissed off about it.

“Wow. That is, like, seriously different.”

“Shit eh!”

“Promise me you’ll never tell, like, anyone.”

“Oh I would never like do that.” (Says she already composing a Facebook post guaranteed to get hundreds of you know … likes.)

Spontaneous outbreak of hugs and much air-kissing ensues. And then of course the ritual of attending the bathroom en-masse begins. The table is temporarily abandoned. With the least popular and most unattractive girl is left behind at the table to ‘watch’ the bags. Men have yet to affix a suitably detrimental title to this phenomenon. They sink into David Attenborough mode and whisper of magic animalistic rituals that they are never permitted access to.

Ah, yes indeed, the girls night out.

The paramedics warmed up their ambulances.

The cops called in sick.

And as for the guys, they held bedroom auditions, knowing well in advance that nobody here would be in need of a call back.

Those fools that breached the ‘Forbidden Zone’ are still seeking bail.

Such is life.