Simply The Breast...

Summer, and everything it brings along with it, will soon be upon us. I'm talking music festivals, BBQ's, swimming, fireworks, backyard hanging out, but also some obnoxious things like mosquitos, sunburns, humidity and my #1 summer pet peeve...naked shirtless men. Listen, it's not for the the reason you think...that reason being that I'm a lesbian and prefer the naked chest of a woman...that's not it at all, although that statement is true...I do prefer the naked chest of a woman, but I can appreciate the naked chest of man as well. Anychesty, that's not the reason. I feel this way about naked chests of men because I think it's unfair on many levels, that they get to be shirtless whenever they please. Those levels include the fact that men are the only ones who get to experience an even tan from the waist up without needing to pay for the tanning salon, and also the fact that we're forced to look at naked man-chest all summer, even if that chest is attractive(although nothing is attractive about the matted pit hair of a man, no one can deny that!). But what truly bugs is that if we women decided to go out topless, we'd get in trouble...steaming piles of trouble...


Picture this: a braless but shirt-wearing Me, and my friend, we'll call him Chuck, decide to take a walk to the local park to play frisbee. We both leave with shirts on, but as soon as we're outside, we realize it's super hot. The only solution to our hot problem is to remove our shirts. Chuck and I both whip em off, tuck them into our back pockets, high five over our cleverness, and continue to stroll. Enter neighborhood law enforcement officer...he pulls his car over, hops out, and says "Ma'am, you can't be walking around town without your shirt on, even though you have a nice pair. I'm going to have to write you a ticket for Indecent Exposure"...me, in my naivete assumes he will also write Chuck a ticket for the same thing since he also has his breasts exposed, but he doesn't...so I ask him why a woman's chest is indecent while a man's chest is not. He can't answer and just hands me the ticket...


Now, this did not happen to me or anyone I know. I don't have any friends named Chuck(if I do and I just forgot, I'm sorry Chuck!), I'm rarely without a bra, and I don't ever walk around town with my top off...I want to, but I don't...I'm too jiggly, which also explains why I'm never without a bra. Now, I don't know for sure if men can get tickets or arrested or whatever for Indecent Exposure. I mean, maybe they can and I'm just assuming they don't, since I see shirtless men prancing about all summer long, hairy shirtless men...and no shirtless women...because they would get in trouble...for being shirtless...and not hairy. Anybackhair, that is what chafes me and my unexposed nipples. What is it about the woman's breast that is so "indecent", so "offensive? When Janet Jackson had her boob exposed on TV, what was so bad about that?


Is it the nipples? It can't be, everyone has had at least 1 at some point in their life, hell some people have 3. Is it the curvature of the breast itself? A lot of men have a curve to their breasts and sure, a lot of the time it's a muscle-y curve, but it's a curve nonetheless! My guess is that it's because women's chests are seen as sex objects, and men's aren't. But I'm having a hard time believing that too, since I've seen plenty of man chests being ogled and fondled by women and men alike. But that's all I can figure in this breasnundrum...women's chests are more often seen as sexual things, sexual objects, and therefore are deemed "indecent" when exposed.


It's a shame really that breasts, whose purpose are to nourish the young, are seen this way. It's a shame that men's chests aren't seen this way, not as young-nourishers, but as sex things. And I'm not innocent in this, I've ogled and fondled chests of both sexes...I'm an equal opportunity ogler/fondler. But I do that with butts too, and legs, hands, wrists, backs, necks...hell I'm just an all-around perv, I guess. Right now, right in this moment, I've got an "all or nothing" attitude about the whole chestate(chest debate): if one of the sexes can't expose their chests, then the other sex should be forbidden to as well. And I'm all for it if someone decides to change the rules to allow both sexes to prance topless...and if they do, imagine the chestacle(chest spectacle).


**Author's Note: even if the rules changed and I could prance topless, I would not. I don't think anyone would benefit from my top half being exposed, least of all my top half, which would no doubt turn the color of a cherub tomato and cause me great pain and peeling with possible skin cancer ramifications. But also, my top half, aside from my rack, ain't that great and the only place it should be exposed is in the comfort of my own home. I would hope that some of the shirtless men of this world would heed my advice and realize that maybe the best place for your chest and man-boobs to be exposed, is in private.**

This way...

I miss Kathy. I do. I miss her so much, in the pit of my stomach, in the nooks of my heart, I miss her more than I imagined I could or would. It's funny, I find myself wondering what right do I have missing her this way? I didn't know her favorite color, or band, or food, or movie, I really only knew her birthday because of her death, I missed her going away party when she left for Alaska, so what right do I have missing her this way? What right do I have writing about missing her this way? She was such an epic figure, full of life, and hilarity, and just all good things, how can I help but to miss her this way? Part of her beauty was making everyone she met feel special, feel connected...we are all missing her this way.

And now, in the sadness of missing her, I'm remembering her, I'm feeling the sheer luck of knowing her, I'm recalling the happiness of being her friend, a smile is spreading across my face, one that cannot be helped, and I'm beaming. No one else's memory can make me smile this way.

I could use a good groping...

So I just saw the most hilarious headline ever..."Woman Says 'Chuck E Cheese' Groped Her". I mean, who files a complaint when they get groped by Chuck? Wouldn't you just laugh? Sure, maybe we should worry that a grown-up in a mouse suit is groping women in an establishment for kids, but still...being fondled by Chuck E Cheese...hilarious...

I'm not KIDding...

Not to sound cold, but I don't think I'm going to have children. Not that I don't like children, I actually really do...in fact, it wouldn't be wrong to say that I borderline love them. They can be cute, and funny, and just melt your heart with their inability to pronounce the letter "r". But bottom line is...they're children. They cry, they whine, they scream, they tantrum, they can't wipe themselves until they are like, 5, and they're yours...forever.

Where is all this coming from? Well, while walking to my car after work today, I passed a woman walking with 2 kids holding on to each hand. The boy was holding her left hand and he was pitching an absolute fit. He was maybe too old to be carrying on the way he was, but I can never gauge how old kids are, he just seemed to be awfully tall to be going bonzai like that. The girl was holding onto the woman's right hand, and she was just smiling at everyone she passed, seemingly oblivious to the shenanigans happening just on the other side of her. I passed this trio at virtually the same time as Jose, from the bank. When we were far enough away from them, he looked at me and said "THAT is why I'm not going to have any." I responded with "You ain't lyin!". We probably would have high-fived had we been standing closer together...or knew each other better. Anydiaper, then Jose said that maybe he would adopt a 17 or 18 year old, one that was already grown. I agreed, we shared a smirk at the expense of the screaming banshee wearing kids clothes, and went our separate ways.

As I walked the rest of the way to my car, I started thinking about what Jose said...but I thought, if you're going to adopt an adult-sized someone, why not adopt an actual adult? Why can't we adopt adults? Who cares if they're...well, adults, I think I should be able to adopt an adult if I want to. And not to get all picky about the age of my adult-child, but I think I'd prefer a 22 year old. So many benefits to adopting someone this age. Don't get me wrong, I'd take any adult between 21 and 35, but 22 is my preference...cmon 22! Anyagist, think about it...if they were a turdburger of a 22 year old, it wouldn't really be your fault, would it? And they'd already be out of college, so you wouldn't have to pay for it, would you? Of course, you'd have to pay if they were all ambitious n' shit and were heading to law school or...doctor school...but so long as you picked a hard working school slacker, like myself, you'd be in the clear as far as paying for stuff goes(Author's Note: I don't want to hear any wisecracks from my mother, father or sister. I realize that my car insurance isn't exactly being paid by me and that my health insurance is only being paid because of The Joyous One's company, and that until very recently my car wasn't in my name, but that doesn't give you the right to make any cracks about my assessment that you wouldn't have to pay for anything were you to adopt an adult...so shut up). And let's not forget the most important part: built-in drinking buddy. Isn't that why people have kids in the first place? I mean, besides the obvious reasons like lawn mowing, and having someone to force childhood dreams and expectations on...but right after that comes drinking buddy, right...right?

I'm sure that having kids is very fulfilling, I'm sure people get a lot more out of it than "drinking buddy" and "lawn mower". And while I just LOVE spending time with other people's kids, my favorite part about them is being able to give them back when I'm done.

A tribute to my dogs...

This is an old boog I pulled from Myspace that I wrote right after my dogs were put to sleep in May of 2006. I didn't post it on the exact 3 year anniversary because well, that was Annie's wedding day and a day of glad, not sad. But I still think about them a lot, especially since my mom gave me and Emily a throw blanket with a (giant) picture of them on it for Christmas. So since I'm still thinking about them a lot now, I figured I should resurrect the boog I wrote about them back then.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

R.I.P Frannie and Zoey
Okay, this is not a funny blog, so if that's what you're hoping for, read the one about the drag queen....

Monday, May 15th might go down as one of the worst days I've ever had. Monday, May 15th, signaled the end of an era. Monday, May 15th the dog world lost 2 of it's most devoted, hilarious, loving, goofy, and cuddly ambassadors. Monday, May 15th I said goodbye to the 2 best dogs a girl could ever dream of. My dear, sweet puppies Frannie and Zoey went to heaven. I loved them like sisters, like litter-mates, like friends.

Zoey was the best friend I've ever had. No offense to my current friends, but she was a much better listener and her cuddling was aces! She was the princess to end all princess's, she wouldn't even go off the deck to go to the bathroom if it was raining. She'd just squat right there and delicately trot back into the house when she was finished. God forbid her precious paws got muddy or wet. Zoey chose the more leisurely path through life, just like me. She preferred laying to playing. She was the snack chip/phone/remote control transporter for my sister and I when we were too lazy to get off the couches. Just tuck the object in Zoey's collar and send her over to the opposing couch. She was there for me through all of my terrible high-school tradgedies. She knew when I was sad. She knew when I needed a kiss. She knew when I needed a hug. She knew that even if I wanted to be alone, that didn't apply to her. She knew. She was a good dog. I will miss her more than I can even say.

Frannie was the anti-Zoey. Not that she didn't love her, they were extrodinarily close. It's just that everything about Frannie was...well...frantic. Her Garbage Pail Kid name would totally have been "Frantic Frannie". Frannie provided hours of entertainment. Why, just a couple of weeks ago she put on my mom's Croc and walked around with it for a good while until she finally jarred it loose and it fell off. Her middle-of-the-night phone call to the police is a story that I'll never be able to tell with a straight face. Maybe I'll write a seperate blog about it. It's friggin hilarious. But Frannie also knew when to turn off the comedy and snuggle her head onto your lap or jump up to kiss away your tears. I'm so happy she came into my life.

More times than not, I ended up with both of them in my twin bed when it was time to go to sleep. And more times than not, I would wake up on the floor next to my twin bed in the morning while they lay comfortably stretched out on my pillow. They were true companions, to my family and to each other.

But now they are gone, and I'm terribly sad but I'm coping. I'm happy that they went together. And I'm happy that they are in heaven with their old pal Gracie, their mothers and father(yes they had the same father, totally inbred), their brothers and sisters, their new rodent friends Choco, Stormy, and Coco, their new snake pals Cleo, Adolf, Handel and Chiva, their new bird buddies Marcus and Bluey, and their new fish friends including Fernando and all the Peteys , and...um, I think that's it.

I know I'm a softie, I cried the whole time I was writing this. But those 2 dogs deserved this blog. They deserve more than this blog, but this is the best I can do since I'm not on the radio or on the televsion...yet. I wish all of you who read this could have met them and for those of you who did, you're better for it. Rest in Peace, ladies, and know that you've changed my life.

Hair Raising...

It seems that every time I get my eyebrows waxed, my waxing lady(what is the proper term for "hair waxer" anyways?) seems to wax higher and higher up onto my forehead. What am I turning into, Teen Wolf? I guess technically I should ask "What am I turning into, Nearly Middle Aged Wolf?"