Boob-O-Meter
I was out the other night with my lady friend watching a few of my buddies play a gig at a local establishment when McLemore, the bass player, decided he needed a piss. So, he held up his bass to indicate I should come up and play it while he peed. I went up and put it on.There was a girl in the audience there who had been under some scrutiny by the fellas over whether or not she would show her breasts to the band. Naturally, I looked over to see if she would, an action not missed by my astute lady friend.
Now, my lady friend is not the jealous sort, but I got the distinct impression that she wondered why I would want to see this woman's breasts when I could see hers when we get home, and let me just tell you, hers are fantastic. She didn't ask me why, mind you, I just got a hunch that she wondered, and so, I'm going to explain it as best I can.
Listen up girls, another Hodgson Brand(tm) gem of insight into the male mind coming at you.
Now, when each little boy is born, there is a vast array of counters which closely resemble a car's odometer (that's the mile-counter thingy, girls) totalling in his head the number of times he has achieved any given sexual milestone. These numbers are filed away for later comparison with his friend's numbers, real or perceived, and used to calculate how his approach to the ladies is faring. Seeing naked breasts has its own little counter.
So you see, I am merely a slave to my Boob-O-Meter. If naked boobs are on display, I quite simply must look, or miss my numbers for the quarter, and by God, I don't miss my numbers.
<-- | Comments(8) | -->