Spreading fast across the DC-metro landscape, the word "Silly" is both dynamic and powerful. Most often, said term is applied to a female between the ages of 21 to 28, sporting her saturday night duds and perfecting the trademark wobble of a young vixen in transit from one M street locale to another. The Silly is, strangely enough, liken to Batman, or any number of fictional vigilantes who assume secret identities by night. In this case, however, The silly has no political or moral agenda, no body armor and no super-powers. Instead, the Silly commands a limited skill-set of the following: Massive apple-tini intake, Dad's platinum card, a limited yet emphatic vocabulary, and a mastered ability to puke while sending a text. As the sun rises over the key bridge, the Silly will emerge from her wrinkled, vodka drenched cocoon as something between a butterfly and a wet dog who, sadly enough, doesn't fly and can't remember shit.
While frequently acting as willing participants in perpetuating a wholly damaging stereotype, Sillies seem conveniently unaware of said stigma and have therefore managed to convince the less intuitive that they are somehow absolved of any blame.
1:36 a.m. at a popular Georgetown bar...
Bro 1: "yo man, there's some talent in the corner there"
Bro 2: "word. Looks about right to me man"
Bro 1: "I'm likin' the one in the green"
Bro 2: "...They're all wearing green"
Bro 1: " Shit, well the one in the heels then"
Bro 2: " Yeah...heels all the way down the line"
Bro 2: "Then how bout the one spilling her drink on the bouncer and about to smash her glass. SHE's yelling at HIM. What the fuck? That's so..
Bro 1&2: "SILLY"
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