Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Monkey Tits

OK, first: anyone that reads this post is going to, at some point in the future, thank me. Not unlike my post titled "The Courtesy Flush", I would put this post in the "public service" category. All in a day's work, people; I'm out there for YOU!

Anyway, by now you're likely wondering just what the fuck I'm talking about when I say "Monkey Tits". Ironically you've all seen them: normally on a gal quite a ways past the prime of her physical life, but not necessarily. Some of the fairer sex are cursed with Monkey Tits from day one. A Monkey Tit physique is one in which the boobs are triangularly shaped, usually no larger than a "B" cup, and basically point to the floor at all times. Now you're getting the picture right? Just in case you're not, flip over to Google and do an image search on: "monkey, female" or "ape, female". Trust me; it'll come clear to you.

Well far be it for me to chastise folks for something over which they have no control, which by now you're saying "That poor gal is BORN with Monkey Tits! There's nothing she can do about it! Back off, Angriest Bitch in Baltimore!" To that I say, loudly and proudly: "BULLFUCKINGSHIT!" Yes, she may be BORN with Monkey Tits but my sympathy goes out the fucking window when they, in all their hideous glory, assault my eyes. We're talking about the basic, common decency of hiding that big -ass butt crack, or getting that lazy eye looked at (or at least covered by a jaunty pirate eye patch), trimming that nostril hair and for the love of god tying down those fucking Monkey Tits! Ladies, any department store on EARTH has at least 250 bra styles to choose from, at least half of which are designed to COVER BOOB FLAWS! Use them! Get fitted! Give us a goddamn fucking break from those eyesores! Also: sorry to be the one to inform you, but Monkey Tits are anathema to clingy, jersey-type t-shirts so popular at this time of year. Repeat after me: hiding NOT flaunting is the key here!

Just yesterday I was unlucky enough to be visually accosted by one of the worst pair of Monkey Tits I have EVER seen. What's even more horrific is that IT WASN'T THE FIRST TIME! Oh, no, this particular gross offender displays her Monkey Tittage virtually daily! Picture if you dare, this image, forever burned into my retinas, that I know I'll be dreaming about for weeks to come. She's fat; never, ever a good combo with Monkey Tits, because those flat, triangular wedges just lay on the big ol' belly like some kind of pair of beached fish on a sandbar. So you've got the big belly, the (maybe) B-cup Monkey Tits, all wrapped up in a light-colored sleeveless (porker arms another post topic, no rest for the weary), rayon knit shell clinging to that giant belly and those hapless boobs for all that fabric was worth and stretched to within an inch of it's knitted life.

I happened upon that view and gasped, averting my eyes moments too late. The perp just stared at me with one lazy eye (didn't we TALK about this earlier) googling around like some kind of lonely last gumball in the glass jar. She greeted me with a wan smile and I breathed a half-hearted "hi" and sped past, bumping into the cubicle wall of the sad little person she was visiting. What a nightmarish situation THAT must have been...trapped...unable to politely extricate oneself...from a seemingly endless encounter with, with, AUGGHHHGGUUGHHHH MONKEY TITS!! Sorry...I just need to compose myself.

Ahem. So, let me just conclude with this thought: If you are Monkey Titted, and trust me, you know if you are, first accept my sincerest sympathy, then please, I beg you, for the love of all that's good and wholesome and pure in this life: KEEP THAT UGLY ASS SHIT TO YOURSELF!!