The Artful Waggle

I understand now. At least I think I do. No, this isn't a meaning of life type thing, though maybe it is. It's more a breast thing, not just breasts but chiefly breasts, and breasts are sort of meaning of life for babies and some of the male of my species. And while I've got a set I've never really understood the fascination, that is, as I stated earlier, until now.

This afternoon I was driving and as I sat at a stop light waiting for my green, a pedestrian crossed the opposite crosswalk, halfway across a car forced the walker into a job and there it was, the ever so elusive, meaning of life, life changing, life affirming, breast waggle.

And now you're shaking your head. First of all I should try to explain what a waggle is, I do indeed use the word a lot in real life, if perhaps not here.

Waggle verb : a motion that resides somewhere between swaying or waving to and fro and jiggling or vibrating.

Unbound breasts do waggle, I have a hand motion that is a waggle (Jamie Lose and Christine Bowden witnessed it once and each has a wonderful impression). Waggles happen often enough that Merriam-Webster will eventually pick it up, but not until Oxford English does (I just talking about dictionaries like they're not dictionaries, what now?).

This waggling episode of this afternoon wasn't as beautiful as you XYs are thinking because this waggle was the waggle of male mammaries (Google is telling me this is spelled incorrectly, forgive me but mammary just doesn't work, it was a plural waggle.)

Yes, a man jogged across the street and his breasts bounced and shook like a slo-mo Baywatch shot, only much less appealing. I was repulsed. And I'm not being sizest here, I should clarify that this was not a fat man but a fit man, at least his legs were fit, he could have used a few reps in the chestical region, light weights just to firm those puppies up.

It was this repulsion that made me understand though. I understand a bit more of the mystery of the love of boob. Breasts have they're own magical motion, and as the tele-tube has led me to believe in a fuller form the waggle is wonderfully hypnotizing. So I hear. I'm still pulling two sports bras at the gym to keep the waggle to a minimum because the TV doesn't understand how uncomfortable treadmill waggle is.

I am feeling more enlightened today. I hope you are too.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

I just want to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving and remind each and every one of you: I don't want to see your ugly mug out shopping tonight! (Read that in the sweetest tone please.)

As I sit here thinking of Thanksgivings past I'm in love, with the holiday that is. What other occasion can we celebrate the harvest, the intercultural exchange of syphilis (woot America) and small pox (double woot Europe), the family gathering together to resent each other and over indulgence. And the cherry on top? My sister will probably makes us go around the table and say what we are thankful for.

With all the excitement of this year I don't know if it will top last year's awesome Thanksgiving.  Maybe it was the sheer number of people in attendance, or the fact that all of us got along for a few minutes, could have been the excessive drinking or just a nice combination of everything but I'm going to vote that last year, Thanksgiving was nearly perfect. It somehow worked, all of that food and all of those people. We even had a full day of classes before sitting down to the most enormous meal imaginable (I made two different types of gravy- two types of gravy is too much). The turkey was fresh, not frozen, which was pretty cool. The aftermath of dinner turned out to be interesting also. There was a panty raid, poor Jamie scrambled to get her wash greyed panties back, and it more or less turned into a brawl. We met the security guard that night, he was a bit confused.

This year taping hand turkeys to the cabinets would be childish, as would passing a bottle of wine around the table sans glasses. I will not carve the turkey because there are people who are much better at it than me. And instead of a small drunken riot, I'll head to work after dinner (a riot indeed, but of a differerent sort, I'm glad I'm getting paid for it).

Happy Thanksgiving.