giovedì, marzo 13, 2008

My bosom buddies

In a monster of a grump today. Something is painfully wrong with my back. Combination of this damned cold wet climate, desk posture, hefting my six-year-old monster Dell laptop and as many tall cans of beer as I could carry across western Germany, and having tits that are way too big for my frame. Although I don't expect to age any more gracefully or willingly than the next person, there's at least one sense in which I look forward to menopause - the second I know they won't be required for reproductive/feeding purposes anymore, I can think about getting rid of them.

I guess I'm complaining but I shouldn't. I'm pretty sure having big tits changes everything and generally for the better. If I wasn't so cheap I could fix aching backiness by buying a computer that weighed less than a fucking full-grown mastiff - really I'm only blaming the tits because they're right in front of me and I'm in a grump. And as for other drawbacks - unwanted male attention? Who doesn't get that? Other men get unwanted male attention. And on the other side of the coin, I know that the tits have been an icebreaker when I've been getting to know men I turned out to really like - an asset whose absence I'd have had to make up for somehow, with a scintillating personality or a more convincing ability to laugh at their crappy jokes, or something. I don't know.

The truth is, I don't know much about men in some pretty key ways. While I don't feel like they're some weirdo alien species, and I prefer them to women in many ways both practical and impractical, and I have a sense that I'm a very mannish sort of woman - all that notwithstanding, I don't know anything about scoring with men or talking to them in a seductive way or flirting or dancing cooperatively with them or anything. As far as I can tell, my entire modus operandi as a seductive being has been having big tits and then saying no to the men I didn't like, and sometimes pining helplessly for the ones who weren't tit men.

My adoration of the F-word aside, sometimes I'm glad in a basic way that I'm not single anymore. I really liked being single and had lots of fun at it and wouldn't have stopped if not for someone as great as him, but I had no idea what the fuck I was doing and really, I still have no idea what the fuck I was thinking half the time. Thank Jeebus my tits were watching my back.

6 commenti:

Hilts ha detto...

From reading you for a bit of time now, you are a wee bit mannish.

Girlish too.

Dread Pirate Jessica ha detto...

http://youtube.com/watch?v=N_aIW33xGqs

The navy made a man of me.

Hipster Pit ha detto...

Listen, Spliffey -- Let me tell ya something. You know how Oprah went on this kick about the right bra? ANYWAY, I decided to get a fitting despite that. And it turns out I was wearing the wrong cup size. And then I dropped some ducats on a few really good bras and lo and behold it has worked wonders not just for the ole' silhouette, but for MY BACK, too.

Who knew? Recommend it.

A bit weird when the chick is basically feeling you up, but worth it in the long run.

Dread Pirate Jessica ha detto...

Euurgh - hate - Oprah - but - must - listen - to - common - sense - the pain! I'll try it out.

Dale ha detto...

As though 'dancing cooperatively' wasn't enough to start me snorting (very attractive sound no?), your last line got me too. Does this make me a tit?

Dread Pirate Jessica ha detto...

Only if you want it too, Dale!

Conversely, I am the mistress of unco-operative dancing.