At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, January 13, 2013


One of the search criteria that crops up regularly as the pathway by which someone new finds this blog is "boobs too big for shirt".
Suffice to say that I confess myself baffled. I doubt that I've mentioned breasts often enough here to even qualify as mildly perverse. Pipe tobacco and food have been mentioned FAR more often.

Even so, the phrase "pipe tobacco too big for shirt" doesn't have quite the panache of that other phrase, and "Chinese food to big for shirt" suggests strange dining practises involving lobster.


If I had my druthers, it would be the lobster. I am much more enchanted by humongous lobsters than excessive mammary blessings. One of the reasons I gave up on both Penthouse and Playboy magazines in my early twenties was the surplus of breasts and dearth of good articles. No, the excuse that we only bought those publications for the writing cannot hold; the articles were crap.
And big spongy mounds are just boring.

Unlike this blog, of course.

I assure you that you will NOT find huge bosoms here.

This blogger tends to avoid such things. One cannot have a conversation with a woman whose endowments frighten one. She'd have to have one hell of a brain to overcome those obstacles. And regarding shirts, I was not aware that it was so hard to find something in the right size. Yes, it might take a bit of a search.....
But when the worst comes to the worst, you can either shop at Rochester Big & Tall, OR have them tailor-made.

Even the best of shirts improve when your tailor adjusts them a bit. 


The people who use that phrase to find this blog are obviously not the sadly afflicted women themselves, but more likely their slope-browed kin, who are obsessed. It's a hormonal thing, very unfortunate and distressing.
Trauma, emotional scarring, and simple-mindedness.
Psychotherapy might help. Or electroshock.

The breast fetish is a mother complex.

Not so pipe tobacco.

Or food.


Whence the title of this post? Well, the most popular google searches in 2004 were 'Britney Spears', 'Paris Hilton', and 'Christina Aquilera'. Which I found out by reading 'Pearls Before Swine', a very fine sardonic comic strip by Stephan Pastis. So I thought I'd opportunistically lure in a better class of reader than the breast men. I actually have bugger-all to say about Britney, Paris, and Christina. Zero.
For all intents and purposes, they don't score anywhere on my own interest-scale, and I'm hard put to identify them in a police line-up, or remember what they did that made them famous.

What field are they in?  Astro-physics?  The fine arts?

You tell me. You came here because of them.

I know they aren't in pipe-tobacco.

Or involved with food.


NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


  • At 9:47 PM, Anonymous The Amazing Breasto said…

    Dude, that's just wrong.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Newer›  ‹Older