this sexist post is just beggin for banjo music

I can’t think of anything vaguely important to talk about today so if I ramble forgive me. But I have noticed that with the coming of warmer weather the women folk are starting to leek out of the woodwork and they’re looking real good. And even as jaded as I sometimes feel I can’t help but notice that my tastes in women are constantly in a state of fluid motion. Now don’t go getting me wrong, I still love a nice set of breasts but even that is tempered by the mysterious “it” factor.

Which before I go on you all know the breast rule right? Ok, some of you muthafuckers need to write this down and commit it to memory cause it can save you a lot of grief. The rule is that even if the best rack you’ve ever seen walks thru the door and we’re talking about one of those rare “ohmygod” racks, they’re never better then the breasts you’re with. So don’t be getting all owl eyed and shit which will only get you slapped. Anyway, back to my changing tastes which are due in part to me getting older and in part to me just being more aware of my surroundings.

Which if you’re confused go back and pick any movie or show from your youth or relative youth and look at the chicks in it. A good example could be the OG Beverly Hillbillies. Back in the day sitting on the couch a cat might think that Elly May with her country talking ass was just ok, whilst now and being older you’d look at Elle May thinking that not only would you drop off three or four fingers into her but Granny and Jane Hathaway ain’t looking so bad either. And that’s due to getting older and becoming more mature or open-minded in one’s taste.

And for me it’s doubly worse, cause my problem is here I am a cat with a Corvette mind sitting on top of a fifty-eight Buick body. Which is neither here nor there but it tends to temper what catches my interest. It’s not like I’m gonna slide up to some new car smelling twenty-one year old and hit on her cause other then maybe a set of perky tits, there’s nothing there to hold my interest. Because unless she’s pretty sharp on the stick we’ve got nothing to talk about and stupid isn’t sexy, at least to me it isn’t.

And I should know cause I’ve dated the stupid and it ain’t all that. But on the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, I could take the advice of my mother who’s always telling me that if I start showing up at church I’d have to beat the women off of me. Which as I see it would be harder then a muthafucker since they would all look just like me with the exception of a vagina which isn’t kosher.

Yeah, it’s pretty bad when my mother’s telling me about some chick at church who would be perfect for me and behind her is my sister doing the international sign for a hug & chalk. A hug & chalk is a chick so big that you walk up to her and mark a spot with chalk, then you wrap your arms around her as far as you can and mark that off with chalk. And so on and so on until you’re back at the first chalk mark which means that you’ve successfully hugged her.

Plus I know my limitations and shit, walking into a bar I might get the giggles over some chick who’s tits are so big they’re throwing a shadow, but I also understand that other noise I hear is my fuckin heart going “whoa there big fella”. Because before you can run the race you have to train for the race and visa versa.



"and the monkey flipped the switch"