Random Esquire

I’ve had this conversation a few times with women – about breasts and what makes for nice breasts.  I can only tell you my own observations and opinions on this topic and naturally, I am a little tongue in cheek about it.  But…as far as I can tell, there are three overall things that might define nice breasts – in order – from least important to most important.

Size

Size matters.  But probably not as much as I once thought that it did.  Size makes a difference.  But probably not as much as other things.

It may seem like the attraction to breasts is purely based upon size but that’s probably a gross oversimplification.  It’s just that breast size is the most obvious thing about them.  Large breasts usually have some movement to them and, like a dinosaur, it’s the movement that captures the the eye.  But really?  I don’t have a walnut sized dinosaur brain and I can see things that aren’t swaying with every step.

At one point in my life, I thought that C-cups were sort of perfect.  Not too big, not too small.  Perfect!  Then I met and fell in love with a woman with DD breasts.  And I’ll be damned if they weren’t perfect.  Then along into my life came a series of women with B-cups.  And my god, those were perfect, too.  Saying that you love breasts but only large breasts is like saying you love women but only love blondes.

I sometimes refer to breasts as … a snack tray.  Yes, I realize that makes me sound a little bit like an asshole.  But it isn’t entirely off base.  They are like a snack.  Like an appetizer.  An amuse bouche, if you will.  Something to whet the appetite.  Something that makes you hungry for more.

Which leads us to …

(more…)

1.  It’s obvious when I’m over-thinking anything.  I stop writing.  Clearly, clearly, the writing I do takes really, just the barest minimum of thought.  Minimal thought = de rigueur to write or read RandomEsq.

2.  You know what I’m eating?

Birthday cake.  Random FTW!

You know how QT wished me a happy birthday?

“Happy Birthday, Retard.”

Like I said, folks – a minimal amount of thought is good.

3.  I put my parents on my mobile phone plan and got them each new phones with a keyboard. Then I got them unlimited text messaging.  And then I got my first text message from them.

“hi.”

Well, that’s proven useful.

4.  I have four dates tomorrow night.

That’s right.

Four.

Well, I’m taking four ladies to dinner.  Not four different dinners. I couldn’t eat four dinners in a row.  Or even out of a row.

I let the chef know I was coming and bringing four attractive women with me.  He’s going to demand two of them.  I’ll let him choose which two he’d like.

And then I’ll take one back as a finder’s fee.

And he’ll only get one.

And I will get three.

And it will be RANDOM FTW!

5.  Well, after that brief week of nearly no writing… I do believe I am back in the saddle again.

I have been blogging for years and the very best part about it has been the readers.  I am impressed and touched by the kindness and consideration virtual strangers have for each other.  It reinforces this hope/wish/belief that people really do want to come together and be with each other in some unique fashion.  So I was really touched when Debra from Rubbermoon contacted me with the idea of creating a rubber stamp… of Little Filthy.

And she made it happen.  Starting now, you can buy a rubber stamp of Little Filthy.  Artist Gretchen Ehrsam drew Little Filthy for the stamp.  And you know what’s even more cool?  All of the profit from Little Filthy stamps will go to the American Cancer Society.  Debra asked me what charity I would like to receive the money and I chose the ACS because…

…because everyone reading this can probably complete that sentence.  That’s why.

So!  If you want a little bit of Little Filthy in your life… please buy a stamp.

To make this more fun for us all, if you buy a stamp from Debra in the next week, I will stick your name in a drawing that I’ll do for a $50 gift certificate to a store of your choice.  Oh, and dude, you get a freakin’ Little Filthy stamp!  How cool is that??

Thank you, Debra.  Thank you, Gretchen.  Thank you, readers.

And thank you, Little Filthy.  You’re a good dog.

1.  I don’t understand when people text or IM: “What?”  It’s in print.  Just re-read it.  Just as stupid is when someone writes “um”.

2.  Whoopi Goldberg needs to read the Grand Jury testimony of Polanski’s victim.  If that’s not rape….oh wait, It Totally Is.

3.  I have a cold.  My nose will just suddenly run.  Just,…out of the blue.  and like before, when it does, it feels like my face wet its pants.

4.  I’m sorry I am so slow in responding to comments.  I love reading them.  I will be better.

5.  On my walk home from work, I cross a street on to which many cars are trying to make a left turn.  Those cars get a left turn arrow which then disappears – meaning that they no longer have the right of way and must wait for pedestrians to cross the street on to which they are turning.  Got the scene?  Want story? here I go.

So!  I waited at the corner while the cars turned left and then the arrow disappeared and I got a walk signal.  I stepped out into the intersection and a car came to a screeching halt about 4 feet from me.  A woman in her car was turning left and did not look to see if people were crossing the street.

I was momentarily stunned and I stopped for a moment, taking it in.  At this point, she yelled and drove forward another foot.

And that…is when I got angry.

I held my hand out toward the car and said, “COOL IT” – because crossing the street immediately by me was a man and woman with their baby in a stroller.  The driver crept closer to all three of us who were staring at her.  She came within no more than two feet of the three of them.

And that…is when the father got angry.

The man put his hands on the roof of her car, standing in front of it as if he was going to push it backwards and he waited while his wife crossed the street, yelling at her while she yelled back.

What did I do?  I stood next to him and pointed my camera phone at her.

You know what?  It freaked her the fuck out.

Which, it turns out, wasn’t really necessary.

Because I didn’t have time to actually get a picture before we both got out of her way and she burned rubber down the street.

But this is known as The Camera Defense.  Boss used to tease me about this but I am a firm believer that most people will act like complete assholes if they think it is a relatively private affair.  But if you point your camera phone at them, they usually get their shit together pretty quickly.  Once, on our way to the lake with Little Filthy, I honked at a guy who was straying out of his lane into mine.   At the next light, we were next to each other – me on the right side of him.  He started to yell at me so I picked up my camera phone and pointed it at him and his wife instantly turned and told him to STFU and stop it.

Point of the story?

PAPA BEAR FTW!

The Camera Defense FTW!

I decided to indulge a little this morning.  This means I decided to eat a breakfast sandwich.  The ‘a little’ means it was on a whole grain english muffin, had turkey sausage, egg white and low fat cheese.

I can deal with this.  It tastes just fine to me.

But you know what ruined it very quickly?

That little bit of toenail you sometimes find in sausage.

GAH.

I joined Facebook last year.  Then I did nothing with it for 6 months.  Who cares?  Finally, I started to use it.  Six months from then and this is what I have to say:

Facebook is stupid.

It takes all the social grace out of pretending to be someone’s friend.  What the hell, people.  I like to politely ignore people.  Not flat out tell them no or act like I didn’t hear them when they point blank ask me to be their friend.

It just seems like adding all these friends in Facebook is like…unlubricated, bad sex.

It’s just mechanical and doesn’t anything and you only do it to up your numbers and not because it means a damn thing.

Here are some things I’ve noticed about Facebook:

1)  Facebook enables you to skip your high school reunion. Because, let’s face it,…we all just want to see what people look like.  So if you’re from my high school and you add me as a friend (because I won’t bother adding you because chances are I don’t even remember your name), then I’m going to add you back with a filter in which you will learn nothing about my life, I will see if you’ve gone fat or bald and then I will unfriend.

Oh yes.  I will unfriend.

2)  Facebook is the Passive Aggressive’s wet dream.

No one in their right mind would step into a room of their friends and say, “Some people haven’t learned how to say thank you for dinner.”  Like, what the hell?   Just tell the person you’re mad at and don’t post some lame ass status.  Sheesh.

3)  Facebook enables you to entangle your life and friends with someone you’re dating without ever buying furniture or a pet together. That shit used to be sacred.

4)  You can tag pictures of just about anything with the names of your friends!  Ha ha!  And then their friends may see it and wonder wtf!  For instance, how about these pictures to the left that I tagged at QTMama.  Except, of course, these aren’t pictures of QTMama.  They are just pictures of a perfectly innocent woman simply trying to get an even tan.

5)  Sometimes, sometimes….Facebook is awesome. I reconnected with someone I’d wondered about for years and could not be happier to now have them as a true friend.

I’m fired up.  What should I rant about next?

My niece (turned 3 in March) and my nephew (turned 1 in March) are in town, staying with my parents.  I took two days off work to maximize my blog material with them.  My niece does not disappoint.

1.  We took Little Filthy for a walk.  As we were walking along, my niece said, “What’s that hole?”  I looked on the grassy ground surrounding us.  No holes.  I said, “What hole?”  She pointed.  “What’s that hole?”

She was pointing at Little Filthy’s backside.   As you may know, Little Filthy is a pug mix and that means his tail curls up and sits on his back, leaving his exit door exposed.  I said, “Oh…that’s…” and trying to be sensitive to what words to use, I used a word in another language with which she’s familiar.  My niece said, “Ohhh…that’s his butt.”

2.  My sister asked me if I could make a run to pick up some diapers for my nephew.  I said of course.  I was writing down what to get (because, did you know, diapers are numbered?  Like pencil lead?):  #4 diapers and baby lotion.  I said, “Cool. Anything else?”  My sister said, “God, I need a stiff drink.  Or wine.  Get a bottle of wine.”  My sister and her husband are oenophiles.

There is a Wal-Mart just a half mile or so from my parents’ home so I decided to head there.  Right to the back where I grabbed diapers and then over a few aisles where I found baby lotion.  As I walked back toward the front, I saw an aisle with beer and wine.  I decided to at least check out what they had.  I found a Cab that looked decent and grabbed it.

Now, somewhere in the 10 or so yards I walked to the cashier, I realized that there I was…in Wal-Mart walking with diapers and baby lotion in one hand…and alcohol in the other.  My own sense of propriety made me flinch a little but I tried not to give it another thought.  That is, until the guy behind me in line said, “Diapers!  And alcohol!” and the burst out laughing.

Annnnnd my shame is complete.

My sister is an interesting mix of prim/proper and back alley craps game.   She balances between flying on the corporate jet and then telling me that she’s going to show her kids the movie Mystic River so that they never run away.    She’s extremely ethical and always tries to do the right thing.  Except for that Black Market Baptism (which happened).  She doesn’t swears or says a harsh word calls people charming names like coo-coo bean and quirky bird.  But she will say that her kid can smell weakness in a nanny like a wolf smells sheep.

She was prim/proper sister when she called me to tell me the following story.  My niece (who is almost 3), was digging around in my sister’s purse.  She pulled something out, held it up and said to my sister, “What is this?”

My sister looked at it and said, “Put that away, my love.” (She calls her kids ‘my love’ a lot.)

Niece: “Can I open it? What is it?”

My sister then relayed to me that it was, and I quote, “a certain feminine product.”  I like that she compared her kid giving up diapers to pulling someone from a line of coke but doesn’t want to say the word ‘tampon’.

She said, “That’s something just for mommies.”

My niece, knowing that my sister wears contact lenses and that daddy does not, said, “Ohh.  Are these contact lenses?”

My sister gave in and said, “Yes.”

My niece said, “Ohh.  Do you want me to open it and put it in your eye?”

My sister said, “No.”

I can’t wait to see this backfire on my sister.

I have tried to continue with that random act of kindness stuff.  So far, I’ve bought coffee or a bagel for the person ahead or behind me in a line.  I gave up on the idea of complimenting people randomly because I figured I’d come off as a weirdo whereas people are generally not too offended if you buy them a bagel.  It’s like the international symbol of peace.  Free bagel!  Free coffee!  And my other routine is to give my handwarmers to the same homeless woman I pass on the same corner as I walk to the office.  By that time, I’m only a few blocks from the office and they’re good for another couple of hours so it makes sense to give them away.  If she’s not there, I give them to a street cop or our doorman at the office.

Besos and I went out to eat the other night at a Vietnamese restaurant because she was craving Pho.  Four young men came into the restaurant and sat down at the table next to ours.  They grinned and pointed to things at the menu, curious and eager to try something new.  One of them caught my eye and asked what I was eating and then said it looked good.  They were polite to the Vietnamese woman who came to take their order, despite her clearly not fully understanding them as they ordered in a bit of disarray.  I watched them a bit.  Very young.  I liked that they seemed a friendly bunch.  I looked up at Besos and said, “Should I do a random act of kindness?”  She said, “I don’t know what you mean.”  I said, “I’m leaving it to you.”  She said, “Then I have to say yes.”  So I went up to the cashier and paid for their dinner. I hadn’t meant for her to say anything to them and Besos and I were preparing to leave but the server/cashier went to their table and told them I paid.  They looked up at me in surprise and thanked me.

Turns out they are all in the military.  For some reason, that just choked me up a little.  I don’t even know these young kids but my skeptic heart said a little prayer for them.

1.  There is an ad that runs during the Today Show.  It is for women’s panties called “Vanishing Edge” and the ad says that they have “patented stay-put technology.”

Now, I’m just going to assume that means they stay in place.  That makes some sense to me.  But calling it “stay-put technology” is a little like ..well, it isn’t like a prostitute leaving chocolates on your pillow but it’s definitely more to-do than called for.

2.  Blagojevich has a 7% approval rating.  I don’t find that low number remarkable – what I want to know is who the hell makes up that 7%.

3.  Little Filthy ate string or twine or something like that.  I do not know where he got it but it is exiting his system.  Slowly. Scissors have been required.

4.  I’m trying to drink port again.  I bought a better port and this one doesn’t taste like alcoholic raisin juice.  It’s a step in the right direction.

5.  Britney Spears is getting vaguely hot again.  I’m telling you, it really f*cks with my head.

6.  I think it’s time for another food picture post.

7.  I made cranberry sauce.  Why? Because I didn’t have any on Thanksgiving.  Do you know how hard it is to actually use up cranberry sauce when you don’t have turkey leftovers?  Well, let me tell you:  it’s hard.

8.  The funny thing about that journalist throwing shoes at President Bush is that everyone simply paused and politely waited while he leaned back down to get his other shoe to hurl.  Security FAIL.  Common Courtesy FTW!

9.  My family is not big into the holidays.  Or traditions.  Or celebrating.  Or even loving each other, really.  Okay, I made up that last one.  My mother did always decorate for Christmas and make cookies and we’d go look at lights and people singing about how it’s such a great time of the year and all that crap – but my sister and I just never quite bought it.  I will not be a Scrooge, however, because Besos seems to like Christmas and I am hoping it rubs off on me.

10.  Sitcom’s dog has his own blog.  My personal favorite entry?

Stoned Pants