I have seen rather more of breasts lately than I am keen on. It started on Derby Day in Hawthorn when a couple of girls, and girls is the very much correct word, passed me nearby with minimal horse racing clothing. The had obviously found a supply of Hollywood Tape. In spite of me not looking, I could not help observe how firm their breasts were, kinda like I have seen on sex changes who have silicon impants. If they stayed like that, small and firm, I could almost like them.
Come Cup Day, and there was a drunken woman staggering along Swanston Street with her equally drunken male companion. Now if ever a bloke needs to stay sober and look after his female companion, it is at horse racing events and the aftermath. She was probaly in her thirties. She bent over to do something with her shoe and, and full credit to her for still having her shoes on, her ample and kinda loose floppy breast fell out. Without a fuss, she stuffed it back it in. Well done honey. They may be a bit saggy and you may have been a bit drunk, but you kept it together, just about.
As I may have mentioned, the service man who attended our oven had a look at our fridge at my request. He felt the compressor and said it was too hot. I told him it was running excessively and it was very noisy and he said it needed replacing. Great. Just what we need. A six year old fridge is no good. Because of the noise issue and the overseas visitors sleeping close to it and the thought of how much electricity it is using (and the cost of a new fridge means that R will stop banging on about plasma tv and home theatre for a while), I thought it wasn't a bad idea to replace it. R did some good ground work. I called into Retravision in Chapel Street today and they had a bargain. 420 litre Kelvinator/Electrolux fridge, delivered and the old one taken away, for $999. We went tonight and paid for it and it will be delivered tomorrow. We were catching the bus home and thought, ah to celebrate, we will stay on the bus and go on to Crown and have dinner there. We stayed on the bus and had a great meal at Margots in Crown. It had slipped my mind that today was Oaks Day, so it was quite busy with more drunken women.
There were breasts everywhere I looked. I am not interested in breasts really, but I just could not help but see them. In contrast to the teen hard firm teen breasts I saw on Derby Day, a female only ten years older, in her mid twenties, had these jiggling breasts. They sort of flopped around like loose fat.
Breasts are a funny thing. I will leave them to you straight guys who no doubt know all about them already and are laughing at me at my ignorance.