Category Archives: dating

Bigger Boobs Please

nature-heart17

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

The “Kinder Gentler Side” and I went to dinner tonight at a local fish market.  Now before you get the wrong idea, it was one of those restaurants where you can buy your fresh fish at the front counter and then if you so choose….you can opt to dine in the restaurant in the back.  It was quite nice.  The best part….

They don’t rush you out to get the next couple seated so they can make their next $300.

In January, we celebrated our 9 year anniversary and went to Joe’s Stone Crabs – a hugely popular restaurant up on South Beach.  We had heard wonderful things about it so we decided to go for our special night out.  The food was nice.  The down fall?  From the moment you sit down they’re pushing you out the door.

No good.

If I am going to spend nearly $300 on a meal, I want to enjoy the meal.  This isn’t a Happy Meal.  We won’t go back.  It wasn’t enjoyable.  To be rushed from the moment your ass hits the seat to the time your dessert port comes – they should be embarrassed.  They may turn 600 tables a night but you know what?  If I’m paying that price for a meal, I expect it to take longer the 45 minutes.  I expect the wait staff not to push me through like candies on a Lucille Ball conveyor belt episode.   To me, it was a scam.

Tonight, we went to Fish Fish in Aventura.  It was great from the moment we walked in to the moment we left.  2.5 hours.  Our appetizer didn’t run crashing into our salad, which didn’t slide screaming into our entree.  It was fantastic.  It was a leisurely and enjoyable evening.  I was delighted.

Of course, tonight was also Valentine’s so you can imagine….the spectacle.  I saw it all.

Lots of jeans.

Young ladies in short dresses.

Middle aged ladies in short dresses.

Older ladies in short dresses.  Go Nana.

But you know what?  THIS is Miami.  If you’re a woman and you have a pair of legs, chances are, you’re wearing a dress.  Double chances are you’re wearing a dress that is a little ridiculous for you.

Miami is all about butts, boobs and fake…fake….fake….fake.

Fake what?

Lips.

Butts.

Boobs.

Hair.

Nails.

Cheeks.

Eyelashes.

Yes.  You read it….eyelashes.

You name it…..it’s probably fake.  There’s so much silicone on the escalator at that mall that it actually jiggles as moves towards Earth.  The damdest thing I’ve ever seen.  Woman are fighting the jiggle only to replace it with silicone jiggle – cause it’s so much more effective and “healthier.”

Well…. and you don’t have to do anything to maintain it of course.

Damn, I could have had a V8!

Or by this time a 48GG.

I digress, which is so often my problem.

Tonight, I saw all shapes and sizes.  Lady, please.  Don’t wear grey stretch pants.  Not now.  Not ever.  No.  The oversized black, v-neck tee shirt with flashy cowgirl type belt – DOES NOT HELP YOU.

Same goes for you sister, with the oh so small nylon white tank top.  If it’s cutting off the circulation to the upper extremities – and your neck and face is a permanent purple color….that is a danger signal…..not a mating signal.  It’s not attractive to anyone.  Not to mention having to look at your four rolls of fat.  

Michelin pictire of Michelin Mann by carlfbagge

I thought the makers of the Michelin Man advertising campaign only created the one that came with a penis.  Didn’t realize they also created one with a vagina.

Which leads me to say, men….if you don’t look good with a shaved head – don’t do it on purpose.  There are some guys who can pull it off and they look good.  Others figure, why fight the battle of loosing their hair so they decide to shave off whatever hair they have left.

The problem is… if you don’t look good, you appear like penis looking for it’s body.

Just saying.

(See, I digressed again.)

There are a lot of fake things here in Miami.  I’m sure there are lots of fake things in LA, NYC, Fargo…(ok, maybe not)….and other high profile cities world wide.  Juneau, Alaska – not so much.  Sometimes it’s a bit overwhelming.

Take for example, the other day I was at the Bobby Brown make up counter getting new colors and this young girl goes walking by who was gorgeous.  I admire gorgeous woman just as much as any man does.  I admire gorgeous men just as much so don’t get the wrong idea.

She was Amazon tall, helped by her 5 inch heels.  Long blonde hair.  Beautiful.

Then she turned around

Collagen-Lip-Injection-Freaks-1

WTF?  She needed to use one of those old fashioned phones that had an ear piece and a seperate mouth piece cause those things you call lips have their own zip codes.

It looked like she was wearing a pair of those wax lips you got as a kid.  Apparently her lips doubled as a bird perch while she was out in public.  They were enormous!  Who thinks this is attractive?  They were done up in a frosty pink.   It was ridiculous and she was barely 24.

Of course, my self esteem, all 5’2 of it,  just shot through the roof.  Thank you.

Boobs.  If I were to get something fake.  I’d get bigger boobs.

True.

I’d like to upgrade to grapefruits.

The couple that came into the restaurant last night and sat down at the table next to us – she had a boob job.  She walked past us and I gave Eric the “OMG WTF….look at this” look.  I couldn’t help looking.  Even after they sat down, I couldn’t help looking.

Her chest was so out of proportion to the rest of her body that he had to hold her up under the arm pit.  Mind you, I’m not even talking about a petite girl either.  She was a “big boned” girl to start with.

She wasn’t grapefruits.

She wasn’t watermelons.

She wasn’t even human head size.

She was mamoth.

Little green dress, low cut.  Which I get.  Show those behemoths off.

Trust me, I like to flaunt my oranges as often as I can…I get it!Every good artist knows if you’re going to show off your artwork, you need a good frame.

This girl….thought she was all that and she wasn’t even the olive in her martini. Her bra didn’t even fit right.  The band was so tight that it cut her boobs in half.  So it looked like she had FOUR boobs.  To top this off, there was the neck line of her dress….another line on her boobs.

There was so much silicone and boob bondage going on that she appeared to be a pregnant cat with swollen tits.  Stop it!

Just.

Stop.

It.

All I could think about is the man with her:  Tell me…you honestly think THIS is attractive?  Really?  Honestly?  She has to rest them on the table.

Girl.  Did you look at yourself before you left the house?  Did you get dressed in the dark?  OMG what the hell?

Did you seriously think this was HOT?  What magazine said buy yourself boobs that belong on an elephant and then stuff them into a bra made for a mouse….men like that.

Really?  I’m thinking every issue of Cosmo would advise against that.  If they did, it was in an article referring to bondage and they meant using red silk and satin ropes and ribbon.  Not for dressing up on a night out on the town.

I would much rather see the soft curves of a slightly exposed boob and the bounce and jiggle as a woman walks.  Not some mashed up mess inside the dress with sloppy spillage over the neckline.  It’s so unflattering.  Does 25 gallons of silicone even bounce?

I don’t care if you have treated yourself to a 46GG and think you are the most exotic thing since Marilyn Monroe.  You appear to be a cartoon. They’re disproportionate to the rest of you.  Did you consider that before you bought those missiles?

WAIT maybe that is what they are!  She’s actually a secret weapon of destruction.  25 gallons of liquid nitrogen.  Better yet, maybe they’re bullet proof and she’s a body guard.  Like Wonder Woman but different.

Nope, I bet she’s a fisherwoman and they’re her floatation devices.

She’s obviously not a stomach sleeper.

What would one do with those when you turn 75 and decide you don’t want to carry 20 pounds worth of silicone any longer?  By then your skin has sagged. So what?  You put groceries in there when you go to the store?  Secret hiding place for valuables?  What?

Wait!  I got it.  That’s where you will sneak in snacks to the movie theatre!

It was just absurd.

Don’t even get me stared on eyelash extensions….

Seriously.

Did I Already Tell You About…..

Years ago…. like almost 8 years ago….I got divorced and bought a cute little condo out in Auke Bay, Alaska.  It was a tiny little place.  So small you had to go outside if you wanted to change your mind.

It was all mine.

All 600 square feet.

I could sit out on the deck and watch my favorite birds – Blue Herons – fish in the wetlands.  When bored, just throw some herring up in the sky and watch the Bald Eagles come swooping in to pick up their snacks.  Talk about excitingly scary!  It was awesome.

When I moved in on a Saturday morning a bunch of people came to help me carry in the boxes.  My new upstairs neighbor happened to arrive during our moving chaos.  I yelled out a hello to her and introduced myself.  We’ll call her Mary.  Right about this time one of my oh so funny friends decided it would be hilarious to loudly inquire where to put my box of sex toys.

I nearly swallowed my tongue.

MY —

WHAT?

We all got a good laugh out of it.  Mary didn’t know what to say and immediately went inside her condo.

Let me give you a visual of Mary.  About 5’3 and probably about 150 pounds.  Thick calves.  Outfit of choice?  Skirts and colored tights.  Shoulder length corse black hair – wavy.  Coats two sizes too small.  Probably mid-late 20’s somewhere in there.  Works half the year for the government and half the year at a bank. Sure.

Got it?

Good.  You’ll need it later.

Along with the sex toys.

Six months went by or more.  One day I look out the window and I see Mary coming up to the building wearing exercise tights.  She had obviously gone running.  Huh.  Okay.  Well, I’m not a runner so good luck with that one.

A few days later I notice Mary with a guy.  We’ll call him Josh.  Now you need a visual of Josh.

Think Hobbit.

That should do it.

Okay, you need more visual assistance?  He is about 5’3 also.  Wears baggy sweat pants and t-shirts.  Constantly has that Don Johnson 5:00PM shadow going on.  His laugh is atrocious.  Down right ridiculous.  Like a hyena.  This guy thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips….sadly he isn’t even the stale pickle (without snap) on the plate.

Not to mention he walked around like a Neanderthal.   I mean really Hobbit Man can you do something about those lead bricks you call your feet?  Even elephants don’t make that much noise.

The guy made me weary and I never actually met him.

Over the next few weeks the Hobbit comes and goes from her condo.  He’s obviously visiting from somewhere else and isn’t local.  He’s always over visiting on the weekends. I’m thinking maybe he’s a fish processor or miner.  Maybe he works on a barge or something.  Who the hell knows?  I don’t care.

Suddenly one day the Hobbit shows up and he has a beat up Toyota truck.  Rusty and a total POS (please read as Piece of Shit).  He’s here for a week and gone for a week.  Here for a week and gone for a week.

One night I hear him on the phone – cause he’s stupid loud.  Now, he’s just pissing me off. Going on and on about starting up some business.  Later, out at the dumpster I see boxes and cartons from some manufacturing company for “Buzz Bites” energy bites.

Hobbit + POS + Buzz Bites = you have to be kidding me.

Please note:  You are going to need to reflect back on both of their visuals, the idea of Buzz Bites and yes, the sex toys.

Finally, one day I go upstairs and knock on their door.  The music was so loud, even the people in my head were vibrating around.  The Hobbit answered the door as Mary wasn’t home.  I politely ask him to turn down the vibes before my chandelier becomes a nightlight.  I also explained how the noise travels very easily and if he / they could be a little more considerate that would be fantastic.

Oh, yeah, sure.  Not a problem.  Sorry.  Sorry.  Sorry.

Weeks go by and I’m sound asleep in my snuggly little bear bed one morning.  Slowly I drift out of my sound slumber and I’m like, “what the hell is that noise?”  I am half asleep and it starts again.

What the hell?

*More noise*

Now I am sitting up in bed.  The noise stops.

Huh.

I lay back down.

*Noise starts again.*

Wait.  One.  Minute.  You.  Pain.  In.  My .  Ass.  Neighbors.

I am fully awake.  The Hobbit and his thick calved girlfriend are screwing.  After a yodeling like crescendo….the Hobbit yells a Tarzan like yelp:

“OUTSTANDING!”

Then….Hobbit leaps off the bed (I know this because the change in my piggy bank rattled on the floor and I’m pretty damn sure T-Rex is extinict) and takes off running for the bathroom with her right behind him.

Good lord of mercy give me a break.   You have to be kidding.

On my way to work, I go upstairs and tape a note to their front door.  I left no doubt in mind what I was talking about as I simply wrote, “Good morning!  Just so you know I do hear EVERYTHING downstairs.”

Being kind and polite can go a long way.  Emily Post and Sarah Lee both think so as does Dear Abby.  I am certain this will solve the problem.  Don’t we all want to be good neighbors?

A couple days go by and guess what….I am sound asleep….in my snuggly bed…..again.

T   H   U   M   P

*

*

Thump.

Thump.

*

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.Thump.

 

“I’M THE MAN!” 

 

Oh my god.  News Flash: No, you aren’t.

I am so not even kidding – I nearly fell right out of my bed with laughter and disbelief.  Yes, he yelled that.  Out loud!    Did  I fall down an acid lined rabbit hole when I wasn’t looking and I’m on a trip?  What the hell….can I rewind that?  What did you just yell?  Really?

Am I on Fear Factor?  No, wait it’s Candid Camera.  Oh – wait…I got it!  I’m on America’s Got Talent……. Snap.

I’M

THE

MAN

!!!

 

Who says these things?  Buzz Bites…..heavy calves….baggy sweatpants….

Really?

That’s it.  I’m ready for the next event.  I have my game plan.  You ignored my note.  I tried to be nice.  Now, I’m putting on the latex and grabbing my whip.  I’m so excited I feel like I should be the one yelling out.  Let the games begin.

Tick.  Tock.  Tick.  Tock.

It didn’t take long.  That night I climb into bed and before I can get into my dream sequence involving the ocean and floating along with the currents….BAM.

Hit the rewind button from earlier….

T   H   U   M   P

*

*

Thump.

Thump.

*

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.Thump.

Cue the yodeling.

Cue the Alaskan Minxy:  FINALLY – MY MOMENT HAS ARRIVED!

I leap up out from under the covers.  Standing in the middle of my bed…..jumping up and down like a two year old….I begin a rousing round of applause while yelling at the very top of my lungs:

“BRAVO!  BRAVO!  GOOD JOB!  BRAVO!  BRAVO!  EXCELLENT JOB!  BRAVO!”

Silence.  Cue the crickets.  Silence…………………………………………………

Then a burst of laughter for like two seconds – then silence.

Problem solved.  Never another peep.  Every time I ran into Mary from there on out – she never made eye contact.  Well, what’s awkward for you, is not awkward for me.  Thank you very much.

Lesson:  don’t mess with the Minxy.

Answer:  What?  No, I’m not telling you if I actually have a box of sex toys.