I Wanna Be A Flasher

What the fuck is the deal with boobs? Why do we all LOVE boobs so much?

Does anyone have an answer for me? At all?

No, no you don't. No one can tell me WHY we love them, just that we do. That everyone does. Any man who says he doesn't like boobs is saying that because he's never found a woman with boobs that would let him touch them and discover the magic.

I promise you, that is truth.
Women love boobs. Gay men love boobs. Straight men fucking LOVE boobs. Women compare themselves to other women based on the size of their boobs. I'm inclined to believe wars have been started, won, and lost over boobs.



By the way, you're welcome, America. I put those up there for you.

So anyway, back to what I was talking about... Wait, what was I talking about? Hell, even I don't know anymore...

Basically, I'm concerned. Yesterday, at work, this old lady(read: OLD AS FUCKING DIRT) stopped me as I was velcroing her shoes, and says, "You have BIG BOOBS. They're going to fall out all over the place."

First off, I can't wait until I can wear Velcro shoes and have it be totally acceptable. You know how many times a night I smack my face against the a wall or something because I trip over my shoe laces? None. But the fear is there. I am terrified I will someday do something that takes me on a head over heels trip to the ground, face first, and then what will I do? I have a fabulous face, and an 'eh' body. And once this face is gone, I have nothing else going for me in my favor. Sure, I have boobs, but no one marries ugly girls with great racks. I promise. I'd have to be rich or something.  Oh, wait, I don't want to get married anyway. Hell, bring on the face plant!!!

Secondly, why is this lady staring at my boobs? I'm 25 years old, she's like, 8 times that. Gross exaggeration, but that's okay. I'm great at those.

Mind you, I have on scrubs, which no person has EVER looked sexy in, or made cleavage look more awesome since the beginning of time. Well, except for George Clooney... But that man can sexify a Chuck E Cheese costume, true effing story...

I am wearing a bra and a tank top. Look, shit is strapped down like we're in combat. So please tell me why this lady thinks I'm about to fall out all over the place? My pants were more likely to go rogue on me than my damn boobs were.

I look at her, and I say, "My boobs are not about to fall out all over. Not at all. You're being silly."

So she grins, and says, "If I had boobs like that, I'd make them fall out all the time, just to mess with people." Oh my god... I don't know if she's having a moment of dementia, or sudden lucidity, but shit... This lady and I are going to be bff's. I can't wait until I can be the woman in the nursing home intentionally flashing my boobs at people.

The Boob Flasher. Totally going to be me when I'm 75. Well, it's probably not going to be pretty, since I'm blessed in the mammary region, and we all know that gravity takes over everything, but oh well... I'm still going to rock it out. You only live once, and if I end up in a nursing home when I'm old, I'm going to have some fun at other people's expense. And it's not like they can blame me or anything.

I'm old. I don't know what I'm doing. :)

***I also want it noted that I am writing this blog at 7PM on a fucking Saturday that I am off of work. Yeah, we can all tell just how fucking sad my life is. Thanks for reading this on Sunday morning, with your hangover. And also for not calling me to hang out with you while you got drunk on Saturday. Assholes.***

Concrete Jungles and Macy's Balloons

I'm ending my morning workout, walking to cool down and approaching my stretching spot when I see this lady walking her dog through my parking lot. Now she's a classy lady, wearing a fur coat(should have been my first clue she was a doucheprechaun) and high heels, and her Dior sunglasses.

Who does that? This isn't the concrete jungle, lady, there's plenty of grass around here.

So she's walking her dog, and carrying a plastic bag that was obviously the clean up bag... You know, for STUFF. It seemed pretty full, so I figured she was going to throw it in the dumpster, like a responsible human being.

HAH! You ever have one of those moments where you want to slap yourself for being so stupid? Me, too. Because I was an idiot to think she would be a decent person.

She walked to the dumpster, flung the poo-bag over her head, and it landed against the side of the dumpster, and exploded EVERYWHERE. I'll be honest, I was impressed she had that much range of motion for being old... But I digress.

She looks dead at me, and she knows I saw her. She sticks her nose in the air, and everything in me wished she hit a patch of ice and broke her hip, truth be told.

The dumpster looks like a shit massacre, dammit. A SHIT FUCKING MASSACRE. It was like she followed her dog for two weeks and saved that shit up. It was horrible. It was on the ground. It was on the dumpster. It was on the fence. It was on the lid... Like someone set off a shit howitzer.

The smell... Atrocious. I'd have believed it if you told me SHE had been shitting in that bag for 2 weeks. I've never smelled dog poop so horrendous in my life. But I know old folks poo. And that definitely could have been it..

So I look at her, then at the shit massacre. Back to her. Back to the massacre. Back to her. Back to the massacre. Back to her. I had my own personal Old Spice Man on a Horse commercial going on right in front of me, except there wasn't a horse, or a sexy man wearing a towel. Just a senile old lady wearing animal carcasses as a fashion statement.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Lady?" She is staring straight at me, like she can't believe I am even talking. "You couldn't just lift the lid like everybody else and throw it in? You had to launch it like a fucking Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Fucking Balloon* made of lead and make it explode all over the place?"

This is where it gets funny as hell.

She grips her dogs leash really tight to her chest, like I'm about to steal her fat ass Labrador, and says, "Well, I NEVER."

"Yeah, well I never wanted to break an old lady's hip before, but by God, I'm fighting the urge to right now." I take a step towards her, and she damn near takes off running.

 When you're 5 foot nothing, and you piss off an Amazon, you should probably just accept that you're going to have to run.

 I haven't seen her since... I keep hoping she is sitting in terror inside her house when I go on my morning run, praying I don't see her through the windows. Because if I ever do find out where she lives, I'm taking a shit on her porch.



*It might have been Macy's Fucking Thanksgiving Day Parade Balloon, or some other variation. But there was definitely a reference to a balloon and it utilized the excessive 'fucking.'