June 22nd, 2010
Yesterday I asked a random man to reattach my bike chain. He responded to my damsel in distress conundrum and it renewed my faith in the giving nature of humanity and the significance of wearing short shorts and no bra.
Oh men and your predicable weakness for female parts.
I asked my friend Erik if he was a leg man, breast man or ass man. Without missing a beat, he responds with(in his endearingly gruff Long Island accent), "I'm a vagina man."
A flash back. If you will. Let's revisit a few quotes from the infancy stage of my blog on Day 5, "Unintentional Cleavage"(http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-5-unintentional-cleavage.html).
"I realized that a little subtle cleave made my life start working for me rather than against me. I got a free coffee, a guy gave me his seat on the subway and my neighborhood scaffolding guy asked for my phone number because I looked “smart.”
"I’m always up for a little self esteem booster. And of course winter will come and I will have to pay for coffee again. But for now my "sexy enough" tanks stays on... in the name of social experimentation."
"Tits are powerful"
I'm cognizant that there will be a time when my ladies will not attract the attention of testosterone driven men. But you know who's willing to take advantage of what seems to be making my life easier? This one.
So here's the lowdown. I'll show you my boobs if...
- You finance my business endeavor: Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs.
- You can explain to me why Wolf Blitzer looks like a wolf.
- You can make Kanye West go away. This means you would have to "know people".
- You show me the faces of the obese people on the news(in the stock footage) that only are shown from the waste down.
- You finagle a way for me to play on monkey bars. With terrorists.
- You get me tickets for a Zamfir concert. He is...the master...of the pan flute.
- You can eliminate nonsensical subway changes on the weekends.
- You take the pictures of the Russian hookers on Myspace. They tend to take their own (close up pouty lipped) photographs. This implicates that they have no friends. This makes me sad.
- You buy me a pony.
- You're able to coordinate a meeting for me with Jesus, Moses and/or Dr. Phil. I have some questions.
Care to step up to the plate for a boob viewing? I'm counting on you. My boobs are counting on you.
* This blog has not been approved by my parents, my boyfriend or my ethics.