MY BREASTS ARE STILL SPEAKING TO EACH OTHER

Yeah, I’ll bet that got your attention.

Not that they were ever NOT speaking to one another. It’s just that I’ve noticed that mine happen to look like they get along, and are for want of a better description...friends maybe. Fraternal twins, perhaps. Or identical, because even identical twins are slightly different despite having the same DNA. One might be a tad taller, one more gregarious than the other one who might be more shy (I am now discussing identical twins and am not suggesting that I have one gregarious breast and one shy one….well, maybe I do…I dunno)...anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Perhaps I should explain what the hell I’m talking about.

I was walking down Sunset Boulevard the other day. I like to watch the people around me as I walk, and I am weird enough (and you are hereby forewarned that I’m going to seem a lot weirder by the end of this blog) to say hello to people as I pass by. Even the hookers have gotten used to my “Good morning” or “Good evening.” Yes, I do say “Good evening.” It just sounds better than...well, pretty much anything else. Genteel, if you will. Anyway, I’m walking along and a very young woman walked by me with the most enormous artificial breasts I’ve ever seen in person. They made my back hurt just looking at them. I wondered at the mind that would choose unspeakable suffering from Scoliosis for the chance at having a huge set of knockers. Not only were they huge, but they looked as if they had one whopper of an argument with each other and had not spoken in years. It was as if they turned their backs on each other and simultaneously raised their noses (a.k.a. nipples) to the sky, said “harrumph!” and never looked at each other...or hung around with each other (sorry, couldn’t help but go there)...again. And they were identical. One of the tip offs that they did not occur in Nature.

I got to thinking that maybe there was more than one reason to opt for huge artificial knockers...other than the glances of others; each set of eyes experiencing their own set of thoughts about the giant orbs walking by, or the possible photo layout in the June issue of “JUGS.” There had to be something truly positive about them to get them installed. By choice. They couldn’t possibly be any fun at a mammogram. A mammogram for a REAL set feels like you’ve lain naked on a cold steel garage floor while someone runs the tire of a car over your breast. The fake ones have to have that done TWICE. So that certainly would not be a positive. They didn’t look like they were going to be any help at improving balance. I thought that perhaps in the event of a potential drowning that they would make an excellent flotation device. But I wasn’t sure. Perhaps a little scientific experimentation was called for. It frequently is – perhaps one day I’ll tell you how I learned to lengthen the life of vibrator batteries...anyway...My first experiment involved filling up the bathtub, then filling a sandwich baggie with salt water (a.k.a. saline solution) and putting it in the tub. Nope. Salt weighs more. Okay, never mind. Then I tried Jell-O, which was the closest thing I had in my fridge to silicone. Nope. So no good with the flotation device theory.

This is the part where you discover that I really wasn’t lying back there when I said I was very weird. But if you actually try the above experiment to see whether or not I’m telling the truth, you are even weirder than I am. And you have too much time on your hands. Which comforts me greatly.

I’m also comforted that my friends the Twins are still speaking to each other.