It brings me back to the good old day of Jobber’s Odd Lot and those little notebooks with the freaky alligator on them that said (as closely as I can remember), “I am happy today because she accepts my dating,” and “[*Something, something*] Love, consult me, a consultant in Love.”
Kate, you can always relive those good old days here.
And, yes, Hobie, happiest felicitations to you all on my coming back to home. I will be most pleased to explain my absentness in the time that is shortly to come.
Hurrah! I have some vague memory that you’d found those… Thank you for letting them live in cyber infamy.
So it’s, “Are you disappointed? You can consult me, a consultant in love.” Now I would merely ask the question, have YOU taken on the mission of “Consultant in Love?” It’s all about good titles, you know…
Do I really coo when I admire wee things? I would deny it, but things I’ve ADAMANTLY refuted, such as an apparent penchant for grabbing my breasts – ALBEIT UNKNOWINGLY – when I emphasize something I’m saying. That, sadly, turned out to be true.
Kate, I’ve never noticed that you grab your…um…busts when you’re emphasizing something. Although I must admit that it’s a surefire attention-getter, yessiree-bob.
You do coo, though, and have as long as I can remember [yesterday]. Sorry. But I like it!
Kate, I’ve never noticed that you grab your…um…busts when you’re emphasizing something. Although I must admit that it’s a surefire attention-getter, yessiree-bob.
You do coo, though, and have as long as I can remember [yesterday]. Sorry. But I like it!
It was a man who first pointed out the “bust-grabbing” emphasis issue to me, and, come to think of it, anyone who has confirmed it to me has also been a MAN. And I doubt it has anything to do specifically with ME or my breasts. I just think that many men habitually keep their glance at chest level (in order to read peoples’ T-shirt slogans, no doubt).
Now, now. I’m offended at the implication that men might be keeping their glance at chest level for anything other than altruistic purposes.
I, for one, sometimes glance down at a woman’s rib cage during conversation in order to gauge her respiratory rate. My rigorous Boy Scout First Aid training has taught me how important it is to “Be Prepared” in case I’m called upon to provide medical information to emergency personnel during a crisis.
Me: I was speaking with her in the hallway when she fainted.
Emergency Personnel: Did you happen to notice her respiratory rate?
Me:: As a matter of fact, I did. It was 30, but irregular and shallow.
Emergency Personnel: I’m impressed. Most people aren’t that observant, but that critical piece information may be the thing that saves this woman’s life.
Me: I’m just doing my duty.
Emergency Personnel: Did you notice anything else that might be helpful?
Oh, YOU! Like you’d even be able to gauge someone’s cup size. If more than half of the women in America are actually wearing the wrong bra size (according to both Oprah and Trinny & Susannah), there’s no way YOU are gonna guess correctly. *Hmmfpht!* And your dialogue sounds like a bad episode of “Quincy.”
Now, someone please remind me what this all has to do with Plastic Rainbow Springs…
Not surprisingly, it is my fault. It had to do with “cooing” and my tendency to effusively gesture with my hands in sometimes unexpected ways (to ME, at least).
I, too, McGyver, find your dialogue to be highly suspect. For one thing, In order to see someone’s ribcage move and use that as determination of respiration rate she’d either be wearing something INORDANATELY skintight or she’d have to be topless. And please – try again to convince as in that situation that you were looking at her RIBS.
Besides, as a Singing Teacher and Vocal Coach I must point out some serious breathing logic flaws here. Someone trained in singing, Yoga, or another pursuit that emphasizes “deep breathing” would be breathing LOWER than the rib cage (with some residual ribcage expansion, but nothing to be seen at a casual glance) – the diaphragmatic pulses show up MUCH LOWER – QUITE low, ideally, and let’s not get into the idea of your practically staring at the CROTCH of women in a helpful boyscout manner trying to determine rates of respiration.
Now, people who don’t know how to breathe deeply often breathe “high” – caught up somewhere in the high sternum/clavicle region – sometimes even the neck. So this leads us right back to the idea that even if it’s ONLY because you are a good Boy Scout YOU ARE STILL STARING AT WOMEN’S CHESTS.
And Jenny is DEFINITELY right about the cup size thing. Most women get is wrong for THEMSELVES, so I find it hard to believe that at a glance you are going to determine the right bra size. Besides – bra size APPEARANCE has very much to do with stature. In high school I use to wear the same bra size as a friend of mine who was 5’2″ tall (I’m 5’9″), and when some male friend actually DID ask (honestly our of curiosity) about our bra sizes and found out we wore the same size he told me I “hid it well.” On someone seven inches shorter, that bra size was, shall we say, “busty,” and at my height and size it was, as he put it, “well hidden.”
Kate…again…how embarassing…may I live a thousand years and never talk about staring at chests again…or grabbing them…or anything embarassing involving chests whatsoever.
Then the THREE of us wore the same bra size at that point, because I have a very clear memory of a discussion taking place either right outside or in the Little Theatre in which our friend, I’ll protect his identity and say his name rhymes with “Schmorgan Sanderson,” was speaking about Janae and I. But I think I now remember the Denny’s – WAIT – Village Inn (?) incident and I think is was ALSO Schmorgan and, one way or the other, I still “hid it very well,” and you did NOT, Chesty Love.
Whatever the situation was, you are absolutely right; GOOD TIMES, good times…
Oh, the pure and untarnished hope and promise of the young. You still have time to preserve your dignity. I hope that my abject and constant humiliating experiences may serve as a means of ameliorating the possible degradation of your untainted seemliness and pride.
In this particular case, I would hope you hear a wee voice in the back of your head saying, “DO NOT make dramatic gestures using your breasts or indicating to them noticeably; it will become second-nature and you won’t know you are doing it. BEWARE!”
19 Comments
I am very much more happier that the returning posting of Grettir has a such happy rainbow story by us.
Don’t forget that they are MAGIC.
It brings me back to the good old day of Jobber’s Odd Lot and those little notebooks with the freaky alligator on them that said (as closely as I can remember), “I am happy today because she accepts my dating,” and “[*Something, something*] Love, consult me, a consultant in Love.”
Kate, you can always relive those good old days here.
And, yes, Hobie, happiest felicitations to you all on my coming back to home. I will be most pleased to explain my absentness in the time that is shortly to come.
Hurrah! I have some vague memory that you’d found those… Thank you for letting them live in cyber infamy.
So it’s, “Are you disappointed? You can consult me, a consultant in love.” Now I would merely ask the question, have YOU taken on the mission of “Consultant in Love?” It’s all about good titles, you know…
Do I really coo when I admire wee things? I would deny it, but things I’ve ADAMANTLY refuted, such as an apparent penchant for grabbing my breasts – ALBEIT UNKNOWINGLY – when I emphasize something I’m saying. That, sadly, turned out to be true.
Kate…how embarassing.
Yes, Emily, it certainly SHOULD be. However, I have lived sans dignity for quite a while now.
Kate, I’ve never noticed that you grab your…um…busts when you’re emphasizing something. Although I must admit that it’s a surefire attention-getter, yessiree-bob.
You do coo, though, and have as long as I can remember [yesterday]. Sorry. But I like it!
Kate, I’ve never noticed that you grab your…um…busts when you’re emphasizing something. Although I must admit that it’s a surefire attention-getter, yessiree-bob.
You do coo, though, and have as long as I can remember [yesterday]. Sorry. But I like it!
It was a man who first pointed out the “bust-grabbing” emphasis issue to me, and, come to think of it, anyone who has confirmed it to me has also been a MAN. And I doubt it has anything to do specifically with ME or my breasts. I just think that many men habitually keep their glance at chest level (in order to read peoples’ T-shirt slogans, no doubt).
Yeah, t-shirt slogans.
Now, now. I’m offended at the implication that men might be keeping their glance at chest level for anything other than altruistic purposes.
I, for one, sometimes glance down at a woman’s rib cage during conversation in order to gauge her respiratory rate. My rigorous Boy Scout First Aid training has taught me how important it is to “Be Prepared” in case I’m called upon to provide medical information to emergency personnel during a crisis.
Oh, YOU! Like you’d even be able to gauge someone’s cup size. If more than half of the women in America are actually wearing the wrong bra size (according to both Oprah and Trinny & Susannah), there’s no way YOU are gonna guess correctly. *Hmmfpht!* And your dialogue sounds like a bad episode of “Quincy.”
Now, someone please remind me what this all has to do with Plastic Rainbow Springs…
Not surprisingly, it is my fault. It had to do with “cooing” and my tendency to effusively gesture with my hands in sometimes unexpected ways (to ME, at least).
I, too, McGyver, find your dialogue to be highly suspect. For one thing, In order to see someone’s ribcage move and use that as determination of respiration rate she’d either be wearing something INORDANATELY skintight or she’d have to be topless. And please – try again to convince as in that situation that you were looking at her RIBS.
Besides, as a Singing Teacher and Vocal Coach I must point out some serious breathing logic flaws here. Someone trained in singing, Yoga, or another pursuit that emphasizes “deep breathing” would be breathing LOWER than the rib cage (with some residual ribcage expansion, but nothing to be seen at a casual glance) – the diaphragmatic pulses show up MUCH LOWER – QUITE low, ideally, and let’s not get into the idea of your practically staring at the CROTCH of women in a helpful boyscout manner trying to determine rates of respiration.
Now, people who don’t know how to breathe deeply often breathe “high” – caught up somewhere in the high sternum/clavicle region – sometimes even the neck. So this leads us right back to the idea that even if it’s ONLY because you are a good Boy Scout YOU ARE STILL STARING AT WOMEN’S CHESTS.
And Jenny is DEFINITELY right about the cup size thing. Most women get is wrong for THEMSELVES, so I find it hard to believe that at a glance you are going to determine the right bra size. Besides – bra size APPEARANCE has very much to do with stature. In high school I use to wear the same bra size as a friend of mine who was 5’2″ tall (I’m 5’9″), and when some male friend actually DID ask (honestly our of curiosity) about our bra sizes and found out we wore the same size he told me I “hid it well.” On someone seven inches shorter, that bra size was, shall we say, “busty,” and at my height and size it was, as he put it, “well hidden.”
Sincerely,
“Violating the Double-D Statute,”
Treats Galore
Kate…again…how embarassing…may I live a thousand years and never talk about staring at chests again…or grabbing them…or anything embarassing involving chests whatsoever.
Dear Kate,
The situation to which you refer was not with the 5’2″ gal; it was with me. We were at Denny
Then the THREE of us wore the same bra size at that point, because I have a very clear memory of a discussion taking place either right outside or in the Little Theatre in which our friend, I’ll protect his identity and say his name rhymes with “Schmorgan Sanderson,” was speaking about Janae and I. But I think I now remember the Denny’s – WAIT – Village Inn (?) incident and I think is was ALSO Schmorgan and, one way or the other, I still “hid it very well,” and you did NOT, Chesty Love.
Whatever the situation was, you are absolutely right; GOOD TIMES, good times…
Dear Emily,
Oh, the pure and untarnished hope and promise of the young. You still have time to preserve your dignity. I hope that my abject and constant humiliating experiences may serve as a means of ameliorating the possible degradation of your untainted seemliness and pride.
In this particular case, I would hope you hear a wee voice in the back of your head saying, “DO NOT make dramatic gestures using your breasts or indicating to them noticeably; it will become second-nature and you won’t know you are doing it. BEWARE!”
Most Sincerely,
One Who has Been Around the Proverbial Block
Hmm. Interesting. Sounds like “Schmorgan” should have been a respiratory therapist.