Boobarella

Yesterday, I spent the day going around and sampling monitoring wells. After the baling machine is set up, that leaves about a 20 minute wait while the well is cleared. In that time, my boss (who was with me) told me a bar story. He has lots of those, most of which I'm sure his wife doesn't know about. Just in case he or she ever reads this blog, all of these stories took place well before he met her, ok?

We were talking about women's boobs. He was telling me about a conversation he was having with a girl on a bar. Five minutes into the conversation, she interrupted him and said "You know, if you're waiting for them to talk, they won't, ok?".

He replied with "What?".

It seems that he had been staring intently at her chest the whole time. Not an indiscriminate glance here and there, he was focused, locked on, homed in, whatever you want to call it. Pretty embarrassing for him, and he did NOT score that night.

I laughed at him, because the best thing he had to say to that was "what". Could you imagine?

Men like boobs. Well, heterosexual men do, although I wouldn't doubt that gay men like man boobs. Yuck! men should not have boobs! That's just wrong. But back to the topic at hand, which are all about women's fun sacs.

I know, all boobs are is some fatty tissue, some milk producing organs topped off with a nipple, but man, they are just great! Little ones, big ones, small ones, large ones, flat ones, puffy ones, hanging ones, pointy ones, ones with giant nipples, ones with tiny nipples, they are all just great.

Well, I can't say all of them are. Some big ugly wrinkly old ones just don't do it for me. But it's surprising how a nice set of boobs can make up for a lot of physical and mental deficiencies.

Ladies, please, if you find a man staring at your boobs, don't get offended. We can't help it, we're very simple creatures and have trouble controlling our more basal urges. Luckily though, we've worked through our "me hit you over head, drag you to cave and make babies" mentality. Haven't done that for at least 10,000 years. If we're staring, take that to mean we find you very attractive and want to get to know you better, ok?

Still, there are boob liars. You know the ones. She walks into the bar. She's got a tight midriff shirt on. Her boobs are the perfect size, the perfect shape, and just sitting there like gravity is no enemy of theirs. The very kind of boobs that should have some sort of award wedged in between them just because they are so perfect. You talk her up, you buy her drinks, she's into you, you can't believe your luck. You take her home. You start making out, and you get her shirt off. After 5 minutes of fumbling around with that stupid fucking bra clasp, you finally manage to get it undone. You expect those perfect orbs, those visions of beauty, those perfect circles of ultimate womanhood to come springing forth.

And.....

WHAP!

They hit the floor like their the shuttle challenger re-entering earths atmosphere. NO! Disappointment!

Come on ladies, it's like us giving you a jewelry box only to find out that there is a candy ring in there. Sure, you would have been happy with the candy ring if that's what you knew you were getting in the first place, but because it came in a nice jewelry box you're now disappointed, and pissed. Of course, being ladies that gives you licence to make us sleep in the couch, because it is a fair and equal relationship, right? Ya ya right!

Oh, guys, don't do this. When you discover they are flatty flat pancakes, don't put them on a plate and cover them with syrup and start laughing. That won't help your chances of getting laid, really. If you have to do that, just use the syrup and imagine the plate. She'll think you're being kinky or some shit that we don't care about.

In closing, I'd like to say that all boobs are presents from god. Should any of my female readers that aren't related to me like to send me a picture of theirs, I will receive it in good will (all though to be warned, it might get put up on my blog).

Love you ladies and your fun bags!