I must possess
your EYES! Creepy (
permalink).
Yes, in spite of what you might hear about men, we are all not alike. When I first look at a woman, I look at her boobies.
I come home from a hard day of shift work at the spelling and punctuation factory. I’m exhausted because the exclamation point (!) feeder bin is jammed again, so I have to push the emergency stop button and climb on the machinery and clear the feeder with a broom handle. Then the foreman starts yelling at me because I’m slowing down production (like it’s my fault, friggin’ machinery) and there is a shortage of exclamation points and that there’s a vital need for exclamation points over at craigslist M4W, and if they run out, what are they going to use, question marks??? Not likely.
So I tell the foreman that I am going to stick this broom handle where the sun don’t shine. Of course not where the sun don’t shine on me, but where the sun don’t shine on him. And he turns all red and steam starts pouring out of his ears and I say if he don’t like it, he can take it up with the shop steward. The factory is a union shop, after all, and I’m not taking any guff from management without the presence of my union rep.
Ok, so back to your boobies. If your boobies have that special shape, and they jiggle when you laugh, or bounce wildly when you jump up and down because you’re not wearing a sports bra, I am just in heaven. Of course there are other parts of you and your body that are important, just not to me. Some people like to know that their woman has a head. Not me. I couldn’t care less. Except for your mouth, as long as you’re not using it to talk. The rest of your body? Well, okay, let’s say slim to average.
Your boobies are thrust forward when we meet, your cleavage like a sort of vertical smile. Your boobies know when I’ve been a bad boy and know that bad boys need to be punished by being smothered by your boobies. Your boobies don’t care that I am a 37 year old white guy who acts like a 22 year old white guy. Your boobies are the first thing I visualize when we speak over the phone. I close my eyes and imagine that you’re rubbing them with baby oil or Cetaphil® Moisturizing Lotion, which by the way, contains a superior system of extra-strength emollients and humectants, clinically proven to bind water to the skin and prevent moisture loss, which is important because they can become chapped from all the kissing and licking, right?
Anyway, so I come home after a long day at the spelling and punctuation factory and I check out your boobies, which almost seems to brighten my day. I get fully brightened after I motorboat ‘em. Then you fetch me a beer. As we sit on the sofa and eat dinner off of TV trays, I grope your boobies which appear pale from the soft glow of the television set. With one hand on my beer, the other on the remote, we sit on the sofa and watch American Idol. Well, you’re watching American Idol. I’m staring at your boobies.
It's your boobies.
Labels: boobs, creeps, labor unions
