I slept for 12.5 hours last night and woke up before the alarm of slavery sounded. Stuck my nose to the window, felt the warmth of Spring Sun around my nostrils and thought, “By golly, what a joyous occasion, to rise alert on this exquisite morning. Tori, let’s go for a long walk.”
Girl and dog bounced down the street in glasses and harness, respectively, forcing a smile out of every passerby’s lips with our morning gaiety. During our forty minute walk, I removed my pullover to hug the sun rays with every pore, and to minimize the sweating. I also used the time to think about things I don’t understand.
1. Boob jobs
Call me old school, but I truly believe there’s nothing more appealing than a natural girl. Small boobs, big boobs, fat nose, Christy Turlington’s nose, big booty, pancake butt… whatever. A natural girl with a pretty smile wins over silicone for me every time. And I’m not even into chicks.
I get it BOOBS = FEMALE in the male mind. You wanna grab them and… stuff. But that’s just it; they may look all big and womanly, but hopefully you’re gonna be touching them too. These things don’t look very soft and feminine. They’re scary torpedoes that may cause injury depending on the activities in which you three choose to engage.
Oftentimes if you look carefully from the neck down you’ll see flat, flat, flat, BOOM, giant balls! What’s feminine and delicate about that? I’d rather see small, pretty, soft boobs. There may not be enough surface area for certain games, but they sure are cute and harmless! Perhaps if I were flat-chested or a mother of many children I might have a different opinion. But for the most part – and certainly in the illustrated cases – I just don’t get it.
Even Einstein struggled with this one for years, so I don’t feel bad. But honestly… time, man. It ASTOUNDS me how religiously we live by and depend on this concept we don’t even really understand. I have to be at work at 9am, I’m annoyed if I can’t leave at 5pm, I get anxious if I’m not in bed by 12am. I’m often yelled at for being late, and I make my daily decisions taking the time into consideration first. I get it – it’s paramount to civilization. To produce X, we need Z number of laborers present and working. How do we achieve this? We give them an easy-to-grasp measurement by which they’ll be held accountable: clock-in time. But the reality is, time is a concept; a measurement of a phenomenon as we perceive it. The only reason it’s noon right now is because the Earth turns on its axis at about 1,500km/hr where I live. If it moved faster, it would be another time, another, day, another year. Everything would be shifted. Time is fucking relative to where you are, where you’re going and how fast you’re getting there. And if I finally succeed at building the at-speed-of-light boat I’m fixing up in my backyard, I’ll be fucking timeless, bitches. More untouchable than Sean Connery. You know what’s really messed up? I think all this stuff I just wrote is kind of right. Actually, I bet it’s ridden with flaws. But the truth is, time isn’t what you and I live by; it’s much more complex, it kind of pisses me off, and I just don’t understand it.
3. Pregnant woman fetishes
This confounds me. I’m a sexually open-minded individual. I have some unorthodox predilections of my own, but really? Pregnant ladies? Every time I see a “preggo video” screen freeze, I shudder. Good god, she’s pregnant! Get her a pillow and some lemonade! She could pee at any instant! OK, maybe that’s part of the appeal… What about BBWs, or Big Tits videos, do they not suffice? What is it, about the pregnant woman? Is she extra horny? What if she cries in the middle of sex? It can’t be super comfortable managing an 8 month belly and 4 penises. Pregnant women should be wearing yellow frilly dresses, pink lipgloss, and small flowers on their unprocessed hair, showing just a hint of the fantastic cleavage that comes with motherhood. Not fishnet tights and jizzed out hair. I truly don’t get it.
I would *honestly* appreciate some insight into any of the above-mentioned topics.