March 15 - Under the Hood

A few minutes ago, while walking around Dubai I spotted an exceptionally large woman. She was dressed in a black burka that seemed to be enjoying a second career after having retired from its original position as a ninja's parachute. This woman was big. Real big. Security detail for a pro wrestler big.
Only her hands, feet, and eyes were visible. Everything else was covered by her burka. I got close enough to see that her feet and hands--both the backs of her hands and her palms--were covered with intricate henna tattoos. And before I could stop myself, I started speculating on the character of this woman--based solely on those tattoos.
The first conclusion I came up with was that when it came to making love, I'm pretty sure old triple XL might just have something to teach us all. I mean, with those crazy ass tattoos visible on her hands and feet, there's just no telling what kind of sordid tales lurked underneath her burka. Maybe I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm betting that visible henna tattoos are the Arab world's equivalent of a back tattoo and a thong peaking out from hip hugging jeans on a woman in the States: probably not one to take home to meet your parents, but definitely one to take home, if you catch my drift.
The woman's size and the way she carried herself also led me to believe that she was well versed in the fine art of putting foot to ass. Hers was a monumental presence: strictly business, no nonsense. Judging from her unhurried gait and imposing swagger, I'd say there was no way you'd want to cross paths with that woman. Tons of Fun could turn into Tons of Trouble in the blink of an eye, and you would not want to be the one who'd flicked that switch. All I'm saying is if I ever found out that she'd entered a round robin ass whooping/ass throwing tournament, I'd put next month's rent on her. Without hesitation. Purely a hunch and purely hypothetical, but I'm almost never wrong about these things.
Anyway, food for thought, my friends. Food for thought.