NOTE on 3/21/08: this post gets more hits than anything else I've written in the three+ years I've had this blog. First things first: no, boys, you're not going to see photos of bare boobs here. Go look somewhere else. Go buy yourself some porn, you cheap bastards!
Second: if you're a Google employee, you won't find bare boobs here, either. I've been getting a lot of hits from Google to this entry lately, and I assume it's because I have vociferously complained about Google AdSense putting ads for "sex crime attorneys" and "cheating wives" dating sites on my blog. Of course, this entry was written nearly a year before I briefly put Google AdSense on my blog. *Sigh.* Google employees: if you want to talk to me about my complaint, call me. I will speak with you. Your AdSense product needs fine tuning. Thank you.
Handy hint: if your boobs hang low and loose and you're carting around a rambunctious toddler, you might want to consider wearing a bra. Also, you might want to skip open tie-front blouses that wrap around so low your ta-tas are mostly on display anyway.
Not that I have anything against breasts. I have two myself. (No one looks at them. They appear to mostly be crumb-catchers and flotation devices...) But sometimes, a little support goes a long way.
Tonight, I stopped at CVS to pick up some Prilosec. Christ, I'm getting old, huh? I fear I may be headed down the acid reflux road that several of my sisters have traveled in recent years. Today (after dealing with a touch of food contamination that *really* made the day special) I felt like my innards wanted to burn me alive. And that's just no way to live. Would you believe CVS was out of the damn Prilosec? I got some other overpriced stuff and headed to the front of the store.
There was a youngish, hipster mom at the door, holding a hyper kiddo on her hip. I could not help but notice, through her very thin top, that Mommy's funbags were hanging low on the horizon. Hey - it's every woman's choice to brassiere or not to brassiere, but all I could think was, "God, her back must hurt like hell." And, just as I was thinking that, Mommy set her kiddo down on the floor and Boob Numero Uno just flopped right out of the top, sort of swinging in the breeze like a plump man in a hangman's noose. Her kiddo on the floor thought this was hilarious, and, with one tiny hand, he whipped Boob Numero Dos out of its flimsy wrapping. Before she could straighten back up, Mommy was giving the Bethesda CVS a Double Ta-Ta Salute. (For the record: brown nipples. And yes, I'm going straight to Hell.) This was well beyond the "celebrity nip slips" you see online all the time.
Now, here's the funny thing - Mommy noticed the one breast hanging out and quickly returned it to the comfort and safety of her blouse. But the other one? I swear to god, she just let it hang out. It was only when her husband came bolting up front, giggling like an idiot, and covered her up that she seemed to realize she still had half the girls drooping in public view.
Having a pair of these things attached to my chest, I'm a little confused as to how you can't notice one is just flapping around in the drug store. I really wasn't trying to look, by the way, but it was just one of those things where you just watch and wait and wait and wonder when that oblivious person is going to remember the boob left behind.
I mean this with great sincerity - and speaking as a woman with big boobs myself - if your love lumps are elongated and droopy like the Hindenburg after the infrastructure crumbled...
Get thyself a bra.
A good bra.
People will silently thank you.
So will your aching back.
ROFL! I wish I had seen that.
I'm curious how the numbering works-- is it left to right?
Ross, I will have to go with the order in which I saw them, which is: Left Boob = Numero Uno, Right Boob = Numero Dos. ;)
And Heather, it was tough not to giggle like idiot - but fortunately, her husband took care of the giggling for us all!
Was that her left or yours? Specificity matters here, you know, especially if we have to create disturbing mental pictures in our heads...
I considered clarifying that, Mr. Squatch. And now, I realize I should have. That would be her stage left for Numero Uno. Her stage right for Numero Dos.
Nice - I get to talk about boobs. Anyway - I almost posted about any boob slippage being welcome -and realized that wasn't entirely true. It's mostly true.
Anyway it reminds me of a post a friend wrote - and that I reposted over at A Rubber Door. It's my retort or even better, re-boob-al.
HA HA HA. I slay myself. :)
Seriously, Merujo, you're a better person than I am. I probably would have laughed right out loud and pointed or some socially unacceptable thing!
Still, I think I'd rather see someone's boobage flopping around outside their attire than see leaking breasts. Now there's an experience that scarred me for life....
Its moments like those that convinced me I needed a cell phone with a camera in it. But do I EVER remember I have it when I see something bizarre? Yup, usually about 30 seconds after the bizarre event has passed and I'm thinking about who to call (on my cell phone, of course) to tell them about it.
Thank you for using the term "Ta-Ta"
It does not get used enough.
That alone was worth the price of admission :)
Post a Comment