Sunday, September 26, 2010

Stats don't lie...and how to stay warm in Russia. (Excuse me Miss, are those real? Pt. 2)

I was checking out Blogger stats this morning, which would be a first.  Really.  I have never been to this part of the island, and in truth, before this morning I did not know that Blogger kept track of stats.

There are stats that show who is checking you out, where they come from, what operating system they are using to stalk you and even stats letting you know if they secretly hope you die a painfully slow, chilly death on the summit of K2.

I know that, just today, I've had 11 views from Russia alone.  And I found out  my blog post 'Excuse me Miss, are those new?' is my all time, most checked out post.  Ever.

Got me to wondering why. Pouring over this blog post I think it might have something to do with the cold of Siberia and woolly boobs but I'll let you take a look once again at 'Excuse me Miss, are those new?' and decide for yourselves.

Once again.



It's almost Christmas time! Snow on the ground, lights going up, Walmart fully decked out in purple spandex and Bing singing jolly good tunes in every elevator across the world!

Time for giving, so let's see 'em girls.  Bring out the silicone pleasure domes!

Even in these dire times, when people are losing their jobs, the cost of gas, bread, eggs and hair gel is at all time highs, some choose to flaunt their booby implants.

Feel the spirit people?  I sure do!

I like breasts. Big, small, C-cups, DD's, winnebagos, ta-ta's, melons,........... Heck, I like breast bar-b-que'd over an open flame or sliced up thin and wok'd into a spicy, stir fry.

To me breasts are great!

The basic function here is to supply nutrition to infants, sustaining a healthy early childhood, so breast fed men can grow up to slobber uncontrollably while watching Desperate Housewives. Right? They serve their purpose. Going about there business, pointing women in the right direction, leading them up the corporate ladder one cup size at a time.

HA HA HA!!! Just joking ladies!

Anyway and once again, don't get me wrong, they are nice to look at. The woman's body is a miracle of nature. Perfect, no matter the shape, size or Victoria Secrets naughty coverings she might be wearing. Even women like looking at other women, because women are, simply put, nice to look at, where guys are...well, they're guys.  'Nough said about that.

But, do woman need to show them off to just anyone?  Alright, that's generalizing, isn't it?  Not all women do this, but it does seem to be a habit of the ones that have had boob jobs.  Just need to show 'em off, like trophies behind glass.

Texting, another thing. Must they MMS text them the before and after pictures of their newly acquired 'girls'?  They do, and I have proof so don't try denying it (you know who you are!).

Still, going into the bathroom after having such a delicate surgery and exposing themselves to their friends, and complete strangers, at the local dance club after a few drinks seems somewhat strange to my way of thinking?

This is precisely what happened to a girlfriend of mine, by a co-worker woman friend of mine, several weeks after they had healed and she was pleasantly drunk.  After my girlfriend saw them, she described them to me.

"What do you mean, there kinda fuzzy?"

"Fuzzy and I will never talk of them again," she muttered.

I could never look at my co-worker again the same...meaning I always fixated on her eyes, rather than...well...

This whole 'sharing' thing is just odd to me.  Men don't do this. 

"Hey Joe, take a gander at this bad boy," Ted says, leaning out of the stall in the bathroom of the Bigfoot Tavern, swinging his junk like a Burmese python.

Course, maybe we would if there was a procedure that put us at a Dirk Diggler level of endowment!


  1. I have been brought to the bathroom of a bar, along with several other females, to "feel" the new boobs of a friend. They weren't fuzzy (and your photo horrifies me) but I will say that I definitely prefer my natural girls to the ones I felt in the bar that night. They are supposed to be fun-bags, not fun-rocks!

  2. Why? Why do women feel the need to show off the girls in the bathroom after having a drink or seven too many?

    And why, when they do this, don't they invite us guys? Ain't fair, ain't fair, ain't fair!!!

  3. oh, we were all sober.

    I'll never get fake boobs because mine are plenty big, so I cannot answer that for you. I don't have a problem with guys groping me, if I tell them they should. For example, that time at the gay bar where I got motorboated by a bunch of gay dudes. They hadn't felt boobs before.

  4. Or at least that's what they SAID. I don't really care. They weren't actively trying to get into my pants.

  5. do you have ANY freaking idea how many boobs my husband has been allowed to "touch" by complete strangers because he says, " wow, I was thinking of buying my wife some but was afraid they wouldn't feel real?" the woman immediately says, " oh here feel mine". we have a running bet, not only do I lose my money but he feels all these fake boobs. these women are knocked in the friggin head. Also I am quite scared of that picture that is in no way normal.

  6. Your husband is my idol! I know there's nothing about that bet that makes me believe I could get away with it. Finding Lorena Bobbit standing over me with a bloody knife would be less terrifying!

    As for the pic...ain't that the coolest and strangest thing you've ever seen? Makes me welcome cold winter nights!