Wearing nothing more than a coconut shell bikini top and thong underwear, this dashboard hula girl is clearly no stranger to high temperatures inside the car, to the extent that she has completely abandoned her skirt. She’s shameless, this one.
But she’s practical.
She was spotted on a very warm and sunny day at the Hardees in Surf City. I wanted to get a good close-up, but I didn’t want to put myself in the position of having to explain my recent obsession with dashboard hula girls, so I chose not to go inside and look for the owner/enabler of this Victoria’s Secret wannabe of a dashboard hula girl.
Instead, I stealthily snuck around the car like paparazzi to get pictures while half-blinded by the bright glare on the windows, so my pictures have a definite stalker feel to them.
As I snapped away at this brazen girl, I thought about Fernanda, my own dashboard hula girl- who is still suffering from cheap-glue-itis- and I wondered, Could Fernanda ever just ditch her skirt like that?
I easily came to the conclusion that no, Fernanda would not go around looking like that hussy.
First, Fernanda does not have this girl’s figure (just look at Fernanda; she’s wearing granny pants, not a thong), and second, Fernanda has that embarrassing and unsightly mess of glue- leftover from her accident- all around her spring area, and third, I suspect that Fernanda is a tad conservative and doesn’t care how they do things in Surf City.
Meanwhile, direct from Hawaii, my brother-in-law sends me a very tempting photo of a whole shelf full of brand-new dashboard hula girls. You may be surprised to learn that until that photo arrived, I had not considered replacing Fernanda.
It kinda’ breaks my heart a little now that it’s occurred to me.
The Southerner in me wants to stick by Fernanda, no matter how little hope there is, but the 21st century consumer in me wants to just send for a new mail-order hula girl, slap her on the dashboard, and drive already.
But it’s not that easy, because like I said, I’m a little obsessed right now. I don’t know if I just need some advice here, or maybe a few minutes of professional help, or if I need to be taken to a big farm where a nice plump lady wearing an apron and making biscuits can take care of me.
Or maybe I just need to get a grip, for God’s sake, and shake off the delusional notion that dashboard hula girls give a flying fudge brownie what I think.
I mean, it’s possible that Fernanda would just as soon have me stay the hell out of her business at this point.
And that just makes me feel used.