Nickels...and what the mean to me.

AH! SUMMER! it's here. Now. It's official. We on the eastern seaboard, have been suffering from a long hard Winter that was followed by a cold Spring. A big tease of a Spring with a couple of glorious warm days followed by a BUSHEL of freaking cold dark days. Ugh. (with the tongue out for emphasis.) I hated it. It was terrible.

Then something wonderful happened. A heat wave. A humid and sticky, super hot, heat wave. This was something WONDERFUL. Wonderful, that is, If you do what I do when Summer breaks. I girl watch. I ogle. I stare. But not the creepy, WHO-IS-THIS-LOSER! Stare, more like...OH-GOD!-SOMEONE-CALLA-COP-OH-NEVERMIND-I-HAVE-MY-TASER, kind of stare. Surprised? Have you been reading this thing? At all? Ever?

What did you think I was going to say? Garden? OH my flowers! Help them from this cold, unfeeling and dark Spring! Yah. Um..I don't do that. Sorry. I Lear. Yep. That's me. Call me King.

So. Back to the Heat wave. It was HOT. CAPITAL H, O and T. MAN! I was drenched from head to foot in sweat. I was finding it hard to breathe. The humidity was like God's finger on my head, pushing it down. down. Down to the ground. So oppressive. Daring me to walk, talk, lift my hands. Anything that involved movement. When I did move. OH! The sweat! I leaked liked a like a frat party after the 3rd keg.

The Sun was all about trying to break me, like a twig over it's knee. It even called me Twiggy! But was I bowed? Was I broken? I was smiling, because they had been released. They had emerged... Escaped!

They? They Who? Who They? Do I know them? Of course you do, Friend! Why, the "THEY" I speak about are Breasts, of course. It was hot and they had had enough of the tyranny of the clothes that binded them, held them down and hid them deep within. They wanted out and they got it. They where out and about. In the tank tops, with the spaghetti straps, the halters, the baby dolls with the lace trim, sometimes even tube tops, who brought those back cause I want to give that person kiss on the mouth. They sprang forth, fully molded and springy, with words slapped across them, with thin and satiny materials straining against them, staring at you in the face. Letting you know, exclaiming to the heavens; TITS ROCK!


Then reality set in and my beautiful and altogether far-too-sexy-for-the-room wife smacked me in the back of the head. "Dude... Stop looking at that. They will catch you staring. Instead, look at the ones on the blonde by the kiosk! She's rocking it for two!"

And she was right. The Blonde had a pair and a half. Kind of like to monkeys fighting over a banana under her top. "Thanks, babe!" I said, "I owe you a nickel."

We have come a long way BABY! That's where the nickel thing comes from.
And here is how it works. When you see a chick ( woman, mama, female, whatever you and the friend you're with call the ladies) walk by with a nice set, (rack, melons, cassabas, fun bags, v2's, u2's, fun pillows, wahevah!) you say to the person with you, "You owe me a nickel." Why? Oh the why's, so many.

Why do we do anything? If I were to tell you that it's not for anything else than to acknowledge that a nice bunch of rack of rack went by without pissing anyone off or making it extremely obvious that you are a couple of stinking pigs, would that be enough. I mean you are a bunch of stinking man pigs...But why do you have to out yourself in public and all?

Also, clarification time. For all you people that are just all MAN-THIS-GUY-WHAT'S-HIS-PROBLEM-WOMEN-AREN'T-OBJECTS-BLAHH-BLAHHH-BLAHHHHHHH!

Yah well you're wrong. Women are objects. Objects of beauty. Just like you Women like to stare a nice bunch of abs or a sterling pair of liquid blue eyes that you can swim in or a great big round set of biceps, so do men except replace all that with breasts.

It's not a size thing either....Damn you! Size queens! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! They don't have be big to be the stars of that show. Just, and I cant stress this enough, In a word, wonderful! And you ladies know what I'm talking about. Full, pert, round, happy fellows that make a point. Actually, usually two points. Depending on how cold it is. HOORAY FOR AIR CONDITIONING! I gotta kiss that inventor too.

So rock them! Rock them hard! You have so little time to show your amazing wares. Faunt them, and let them fly in the face of the public eye! Let us bask in the glow of those golden yabbos, press those chocolate marshmallows against the slight and flimsy fabric of conformity, let those butterscotch bon-bons flare proudly and boldly! It's okay! We can take it!

OH YEAH! SUMMER! IT'S HERE AND IT WONT BE IGNORED! Neither will those Nickels....