I Have A Problem.
I am here to admit to you, my readers, and to the entire world, but mostly to myself. I have a problem.
I am an "_aholic".
Maybe not in the way you envision "_aholics". I am not addicted to alcohol (a few martinis each night never hurt anyone), so I am not an alcoholic. I am not hooked on any drugs (unless gout pills, Lipitor, and back spasm pills count). I am not addicted to smut, although I do have a fair amount of old Playboys lying around. (I know they are old because the girls in them actually have pubic hair).
Yes, I have a serious problem. I am a bosom-aholic.
I have told myself I need to go "AA", or "BB", or double "CC", or just plain "A" cup. I mean, oh hell, here I go again. I can't contain myself.
There was a movie a few years back about a boy whose secret was "I see dead people". I am like that. I see bosoms. It matters not what they look like. They are all beautiful. Big, small, firm, not so firm, wide, narrow, up, down. I just think they are all beautiful.
I have tried to rid myself of this problem, but to no avail. I find myself saying the damnedest things to women.
Instead of saying something like, "You certainly are energetic today”, I say, "Aren't we perky today!” Or, when someone says, "It is so cold outside today", I respond, "It's colder than a witch's titty". It's horrible. I don't know what to do.
I guess there could be worse addictions. Fortunately, my wife is helping me with my addiction. I will keep you abreast of that later. I will close with what has become my favorite new limerick.
There was a young girl who begat,
three babies named Nat, Tat and Pat.
It was fun in the breeding,
but hell in the feeding;
she found there was no tit for Tat.
About the Author:
Eddy's previously mentioned movie-themed bar may also be busting out "Mother, Jugs, and Speed" and "Twin Peaks".