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.

Saturday, July 19, 2014


I had not been paying any attention to their conversation before, but the girl with the irritating voice finally uttered something that made me sit up and say 'howdy'. It was a magical sentence, one that would make any red-blooded man take notice.
An incantation that commanded complete concentration.

"And then he got peanut butter on my bra!"

Sweetheart, I am as "creative" as the next man. Adventurous too. But in my entire life I have never gotten peanut butter -- or any other delicious spread -- on anyone's mammary containment modules.

Maybe I am less of a man for that omission.

In any case, don't leave us hanging, tell us what happened next.
Did he lick it off? Offer to buy you a new one?
Bung it in the wash?

Unfortunately, I could not hear anymore of the conversation, as she and her friend spoke indistinctly, and I would have had to move back two or three seats to listen in.
Before I could do so, they exited the bus.

I cannot help but wonder how the peanut butter got on her brassiere. Peanut butter normally is a rather stiff gloop, and doesn't drizzle or drip unless it's warmed up. It is entirely possible that "he" smeared it on hot toast, which, as he was eating while leaning over her, warmed up the substance to the point that it escaped from between the two slices of bread. Which may or may not have been a buzz-kill. Women tend to treasure their brassieres, as a good fit is, so I've heard, hard to find. Quite likely she was ambivalent about him snacking while her bosom was in the line of fire. She may have had other things on her mind.

Note to self: make sure that brassieres are removed when eating a peanut butter sandwich. It's the gentlemanly thing to do.

Not that there is any connection, but since I became a bachelor again four years ago, exposed brassieres (or any other feminine under or support garments) have not been in the same room at the same time in this apartment as peanut butter, to the best of my knowledge. Maybe my apartment mate eats breakfast in her skivvies, I just don't know. She and I have different schedules. The only times we're in the kitchen together is in the evening, often when I am fixing myself some noodles while fully clothed. I am not a breakfast person.

"And then he got peanut butter on my bra!"

A truly scientific minded man would promptly ask questions. Is it still there? Natural fabric or synthetic? Does it smell?
And then, to show that I am not entirely insensitive, "how does that make you feel?"

Bra and peanut butter. What am I missing?

Crunchy? Or smooth?

I'm a practical man, I can't help thinking about these things.

Also, I really believe that whatever the situation was, the male person involved may have suffered a lapse of judgement. There was a woman present, with her upper-torso nether garment exposed to the elements, or leastways to a nutritious bread spread. How did that come about?
Would it not have been wiser to ascertain the circumstances before proceeding with the repast?
Postpone your nutritious snacking, if only for a little while.
Maybe she requires some assistance.
Feedback, or advice.

I'm sure there's a very good reason why someone is wandering around wearing a brassiere while there is peanut butter, but for the life of me I cannot think of one.

It's never happened to me.

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


  • At 12:57 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    This is way better than facebook.


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