U N L O A D E D

Breasts.....

The source of nourishment for a newborn child.

A key component to todays standards of beauty whether some consider it fair or not.

A source of confidence or insecurity to many women around the world depending on size, shape and suppleness.

The very thing that will make many a man forget what he's talking about in mid sentence should just the right amount of cleavage be exposed.

The essence of many a lustful man's (or woman's) fantasy. Some like legs, some like a firm butt, and others yearn for dreamy eyes. But to so many, the breast trumps them all.

Why?

What is it about the female breast that commands so much power over us that some women will seemingly stop at nothing to have the perfect pair. What is the perfect pair and who decides such a thing? Is it an individual choice or is it something more?

Speaking as a man who doesn't look at a women solely for body parts, the attraction to this area of the anatomy is still something primal. I'd be a total liar if I told you that the desire to caress, nibble and hold just the right pair never crossed my mind. I would be lying further if I told you that I haven't been caught starring at them at one time or another. For me, and many men, the instinct to gravitate to this area is so ingrained into the recesses of our minds that many of us don't realize we're doing it.  It's only until you do that you learn to behave yourself a bit more like a gentleman and be a bit more discreet. Most men my age have learned to temper their overt gestures of "ga ga" through the stupidity of our teenage years and the trial and error process of our 20's. I know, I hear some of you, you met a guy who was 50 and acted like a high school freshmen. What can I say? Not everyone grows up. But whether you've mastered to keep it in check or not, the gravitational pull is there. Instincts win out. The joy of breasts are celebrated in our imaginations through gorgeous imagery in the tangible world. It's a potent stimulus.

It has always been my belief that men are visual creatures while women are cerebral. There's plenty of scientific studies and such that seem to indicate the same. But when it comes to a woman critiquing her own appearance, she is VERY visual. This visual fixation has prompted many women to take the next step and turn to the one magical place where everything can and will happen; the internet!

The "Community"

As I trolled around the net looking for topics of interest to discuss here, I stumbled across an online community that I've heard vaguely mentioned in a few news segments. The presentation of the topic was so bland that I dismissed it quickly. Like hearing whether the stock market went up or down, who cares? But this community is far more fascinating than what any type of MySpace of Facebook deal can bring to the table. This online community was all about giving the gift......the gift of boob.

Ladies and gentleman we are about to embark on a journey of yours truly becoming a benefactor to this community.

You are about to learn of they types of men and women that join this place and what they want and desire.

You will read of the special perks and bonuses the benefactors get in exchange for helping a woman in need.

I will share, with you, my experiences in interacting with these women and why boobs have become their priority.

We will explore the social and personal impact these choices can have. Is it a good idea or not?

ALL will be revealed for your reading pleasure and consumption, HERE on this blog.....

BUT....... not tonight.

Tonight I will sip wine and weigh what the world is with breasts and what it would be like without.

Till next time ladies and gents!!!! And while you wait for the update, go vote in the poll just above my profile, won't you?

To all my fellow Jews out there, I hope you had a great Passover. To those of you who are not, try to finagle your way into a Seder sometime as it's a great excuse to stuff your face and bang down lots of wine.

I went to 2 gatherings this weekend and I had a great time at each of them. The first family who hosted yours truly are from my synagogue and were some of the first friends I made there. Each year they have had me over and treat me as if I'm family. They are truly awesome people in every sense of the word.

They also used the ever popular Maxwell House Haggadahs. This is the book everyone reads during the Passover Seder which tells the story of the Jews escaping Egypt AND is sponsored by Maxwell House Coffee of all things. This little bit viral marketing has been around since the 1930s and it doesn't seem like any of the pictures have been updated since then either. It's so kitsch, I love it. I often wonder how many cups of Maxwell House the rabbis had while writing this as it reads like Shakespeare on speed. Not all Haggadahs are done by Maxwell House, but these babies sure are swell.

Sunday night I was invited to the Rabbi's house for the Seder and was greeted warmly with a big hug from his daughter. It was nice to see everyone and the food and festivities were great. Things went a bit crazy when we had a scavenger hunt later in the night where everyone, including the rabbi, got into shoving matches trying to find clues scattered throughout the house. Adult or child, it didn't matter as this was serious competition. One thing that I found great about the Rabbi's place is that he has the original stand up arcade version of Donkey Kong Jr. in his basement. This is good stuff, never mind the abundance of Manischewits. Then again that might have been why everyone got so goofy.

It was all but a few moments at the table before a couple inevitably began asking personal questions. This was not to pry but to find out my compatibility. Why? Because they want to set me up with a "nice Jewish girl." Ladies and gentleman, we've gone down this road before. I'm not a potential husband or father, I'm just a bachelor who enjoys the company of women. Women of all races, creeds and colors. The wife assured me that the last set up she arranged resulted in marriage. Honestly I'd be better off with several holes drilled into my head.

But seriously, they were lovely people. And I might make an exception for this young lady to the right.

So for the next few days I'm bound to eat more matzo crackers than I can handle and maybe wash it down with some Coke that has the yellow cap. And why the yellow cap you ask? Because that means it's kosher. So if you see a bottle of Coke in the store with a yellow cap, now you know why. Incidentally, the bottle in my household has a red cap so it will be kept closed for the time being. Ah the rules and mysteries of Passover!

That's it for now peeps, till next time.

Coming up......

Giving the gift of "boob." How you can help women from around the world secure a bigger bust. Yes, it's true.

And.....

The myth of equity. Should I really care that owning a house will make me look worth something on paper? And why should this paper matter in the bigger picture?

....I've been extremely depressed since March for a number of things, really. My mind is restless and within me there is a frustrated and bitter monster clawing to get out. This monster has a story to tell and until I relent to it's power, I fear I will remain sullen, stagnant mess.

Yes, BITCHES, it's that time!!

It's time to write another screenplay!!!!

And to brush up on older ones I've wrote before. I will be submitting my works once again to labs, contests and workshops to get feedback.

Some of my posts here may seem very angst ridden, more so than usual. All I can tell you is that it's part of the process.

The creative monster is out of the cage!!!

He can't be stopped.

It's a long gruelling road that stretches before me every morning and night. The destination is always the same but the story of getting there is different each day. I wonder if it's all worth it. Paying the bills, keeping a roof over my head..yeah...I guess I have to make this trip over and over before something gives.
If I can't be happy about this daily drive, I might as will use it to think.

So many cars on the fucking road. We're all in a rush to go nowhere. If you're out the door really early you might see less of them but the fatigue sets in and your stuck out there just like the rest of the stiffs. You accept it and then you try to put it out of your mind. It hurts less that way.

I see an assortment of flowers and a cross laid out by a tree on an exit ramp on the highway. Someone must have hit it and died. He or she was a football fan. One of the floral arrangements is made to look like one. Maybe it was a high school kid. I'm passing too quickly to read it but the early morning frost has bitten into the colorful vegetation, causing it to wilt and and shed it's vibrance. A lot of people must of cared for this person. I wonder how many other people have died travelling this road and I hope I'm not one of them. Would anyone put up a memorial for me if I did? How would it look like. All of this is too morose. I shift my attention to the jammed lanes ahead of me.

No accident here, just everyone in a rush to go somewhere they don't want to go at the same time. I'm too tired to be angry, I just go along with it.

"It is what it is." Such a stupid saying but it fits right here, I don't like what "is" is. I'm getting angry, I shift my attention to the radio.

More fighting in Iraq, people are losing their homes. Banks lie to them and people lie to themselves to grab a hold of that elusive American dream. I look around at the cars around me. They're here fighting for that so called "dream" also. Have any of them found it? And if they did get it are they happy? Was it everything they thought it would be? The look on their faces begs to question. I hate money. I hate how we jump through hoops for it but we have too. I hate how the banks, media and all beat us into submission by telling us buying things we can't afford will make us happy. We're all hamsters running in a caged wheel. Many can't stop running and even more can't get away. How would we escape if we wanted to? I can't deal with that now. 

burns out just as quickly as it ignited.

Almost there, I can't wait for it to end. I'm on the off ramp. I see dozens and dozens of day labourers from Mexico and all parts of South America standing on the side of the road. Rain or shine they are there. A truck comes by and stops. They all make a run for it, hoping to be taken to wherever they need to go for a days work. I imagine it to be hard manual labor. Not my cup of tea. I know that on my way home some of them will still be standing there, hoping to be picked up to cut down a tree or move boxes. For a moment my cynicism is put into perspective.

Not that long ago I heard a quick news blurb over the radio that said physical altercations between girls and women were on the rise. They attributed this to a more competitive atmosphere but didn't elaborate except to mention sports and career demands. I take it the sports were pertaining to the young ladies still in school and careers to women out of it. Or is it the other way around? No matter. I'm not here to document the top 10 fist fights ever between women. Rather it got me thinking about the relationships women have with each other.

Competition

From where I sit the "competition" vaguely referenced in the news story I overheard was horribly misguided. Sure it's part of it but I've observed plenty of passive aggression in mundane activities that I never knew could be competitive. An example is when I go over to my friends house who has a well established family and lives in an affluent neighborhood. All the neighbors are in each others faces. The men separate to discuss what they wish to do to the house as in "build a new wall" or "add a recreation room to the basement." Then there are the wives:

Wife 1: You're little Tommy is so full of energy. How old is he now?

Wife 2: He's 8.

Wife 1: Really? He doesn't look a day over 5! I bet he'll age well. Sometimes it helps to be a little...behind...with things.

Wife 2: Well Tommy got a bunch of Os for "outstanding" on his last report card. He almost did our taxes for us last year. He's great with numbers!

Wife 1: Really? Tommy count to 100 by 2s with me.

Wife 2: Yes show her how to count by 2s.....

Tommy: 7.....8.....15....

Wife 2: NO TOMMY! BY 2S!!

Tommy: Pee pee?

Wife 1: I'm sure he's just tuckered out. Oooh, your cake...in the oven...it's burning.

Wife 2: Oh..sh...I've been working on this all day. Now we have no dessert....

Wife 1: Oh, honey that's awful. It looked so good. Was it chocolate? I love chocolate. To bad it's burnt now. How about cutting out the center. I bet that's still...edible..if you spent all day on it after all.

Wife 2: I spent last night on it also.

Wife 1: Well my mother has a recipe that takes a weeks worth of preparation and the cake will just melt in your mouth....

On and on they go, it never ends. It's all hidden behind plastic smiles and strained compliments that are really barbs. This was not an actual conversation that I heard but rather an amalgamation of many discussions I've heard over the years. Wife 1 LOVES the fact that the cake got burnt. But why?

Some of you may think this is just snotty upper class folk being who they are. I thought so until I sat back and listened to the discussions of the common folk; middle class female friends of mine.

Daggers

I sat back one day as me and several female friends of mine had some drinks at the bar. As the women filtered into the establishment the daggers began to fly.

"Fake!"

"Ugly"

"Bad boob job."

"Trim those eyelashes already."

"Stupid hair!!"

"Fish lips!"

"Slut!"

"She doesn't have the body to wear that!!!"

There were glares, stares and resentment. Deep resentment. And the sad thing? None of the women they attacked were unattractive at all. In fact they were all quite beautiful. Clearly the physical appearance was triggering something negative in them. It was almost an innate instinct to beat up and tear down a prime specimen.

In these situations I wait for the right time to throw in my own carefully crafted opinion.

Me: I think she's fucking hot!!

This usually elicits head shaking and lecturing and why I should NOT find these women attractive. Wisely, I use this opportunity to pick their brain with follow up questions. I've come up with a half baked theory which someone else likely thought of but I don't care.

Alpha and Beta

I see 2 categories of women in my travels that can be broken down into many subcategories. Let's start with the alpha female.

The alpha female is the type who can walk into a room and just light it up with her looks or demeanor. She doesn't have to work at it, it all comes naturally. She wields great power over those she comes into contact with not through demands, but a warm smile and the power of suggestion. It need not be sexual at all times but genuine. The sky is the limit for her.

Then we have the beta females. Women in this category are not relegated to it by looks. Quite the contrary. There is a self defeatist attitude that runs through many of them which causes them to lash out instead of reach out. They are defensive and wounded creatures. An enterprising and manipulative beta female will untie the others betas to follow her lead on nights out. She'll make sure the angry fire burns and that none of the women with her speak to men and if they appear to be hitting it off with one, she will cut it short. When they are not out she is the one they all come to talk to for support. However she won't support but rather fuel the flames. Why? It keeps her getting all the juicy gossip and keeps her in a position as the leader.

Beta Superior - A false alpha female who leads by undermining the self confidence of her sister women and keeps true to the concept of misery loving company.

Beta Minor - A woman foolish enough to think they need a beta superior to lead them.

Not all women fall into these categories, obviously, but I've seen many that do.

Cat Fight

Some of this stuff will culminate in a cat fight. I once saw 2 strippers break out into fisticuffs while dancing on stage in my college years. I have no doubt that it tied into some of the concepts I've laid out here. And...OK I went to MANY strip bars back then because...I was in college damn it. But that's neither here nor there. What I'm saying is that perhaps these small jabs are ultimately leading to the physical altercations that were mentioned in that radio story. There is a tremendous pressure on women that I as a man will never fully comprehend. There is an internal pressure they put on each other to be "perfect" and an outward pressure from the media which may or may not be an extension to the self imposed pressure. Does every woman want to be a Wonder Woman? I don't know but I suspect many want to take a Wonder Woman down for the count.




Coming up.....

The Drive...

Also....

Giving the gift of "boob." Is it the gift that keeps on giving?

And later...

The myth of equity.

Ladies and gentleman, I regret to inform you all that my internet connection at home is down for the count and I'm hoping things get back up and running soon.

In the meantime please welcome a musical guest who is so cute, she's hot. The one, the only....

April March.

(Applause)

Rita Hayworth, Tori Amos, Nicole Kidman, Wilma from the Flintstones, Kirsten Dunst, train wreck Lindsay Lohan and yes, even Marilyn Monroe have (or had) one thing in common; beautiful, natural red hair. OK, I take back Wilma from the Flinstones because she wasn't a real person and she wasn't hot as far as animated characters go in my opinion. I'd have to give that honor to Jessica Rabbit. And while Marilyn went blond to possibly have more fun I say why can't redheads have just as much or more?

RED

The color evokes love, passion, intense energy, heat in situations of lust and desire and warmth in times of need. Some may think of blood and if not in the gory macabre sense, then as a means of sustaining life and vigor. There is a current of aggression to the color red. Not the kind that assaults us in a negative way, rather it taps into our senses and desires for something exciting. We see it in cars that catch our eye on the road which say "fast" to our subconscious. We are struck by it's assertiveness and sensual insinuations when the right woman walks into a room in a well fitting dress of this color. On the right body a woman's beauty is accentuated in numerous ways. The curves, the geometry of a beautiful woman's body, become all the more pronounced. The color red is a most special one indeed.

However, the color of red hair takes all of these principals and advances them forward a step. The color is "in the body" so to speak. It is genetic therefore it's an actual part of them and not an accessory. While hair may be seen as a form of natural ornamentation to some, real red hair is such a striking enhancement to a woman that it's almost an essential appendage like an arm or leg. Some of you may disagree and that is all fine and well but when my head turns to look at a woman with red hair, it is for that reason first and foremost. In a sea of blond and raven haired beauties, red hair is almost a novel and most precious alternative to admire and fantasize about running your hands through.

Fire Down Below

My experience with redheads is not all inclusive but memorable. I had ventured down to the city to meet a mutual friend of a coworker that I had met a week before at a Prince concert at Madison Square Garden. She was a photographer or at least an aspiring one and had fair skin and long curly red hair. Over beers and conversation things grew intense. Enough so that when it came time for me to grab a train at Grand Central to trek back home to Connecticut, it became an obstacle to what was to come. Or what I thought was to come. Fuck the train, there were always more ready to take me home tomorrow. I'd spend the night at her place per her invitation. We kissed by the famous clock in that makes Grand Central so grand as people passed and made our way to the subway.

The young woman in question was not without baggage. She had a boyfriend several states away. Guilt set in but she still wanted me to stay. What was going on in her mind I will never know. But I was deprived of a honor and privilege that could have been mine. And that was tasting the sweet ginger and feeling warm heat below. To run my hands through that small patch of red goodness, to feel it brush against my face as I moved in for the kill....yes...that would be wonderful.

But I've already said too much.

Primal Attraction

Perhaps it's the sharp contrast: My dark hair and skin against their fair complexion and red locks that fuels the attraction. The old tiresome observation of opposites attracting may be true here. My last redhead sighting involved a beautiful barmaid. A nice Irish girl with long straight red hair that almost went to her waist. The Lady Godiva look was never here nor there for me but her green eyes and gorgeous smile left my in a state of euphoria and desire.
Oh to hold her in my arms and have her taunt me with that red hair. What an experience.

But it was not meant to be, she had a boyfriend too. Such is my luck.

I may never fully grasp my attraction to redheads beyond a instinctual level but maybe it's not for me to figure out, rather just go with it and enjoy. We only live once and some things needn't be complicated. We have enough of that and I'm all for keeping it to a minimum to insure maximum pleasure.

Coming up...... Are women more prone to fighting each other than men?

Also...

The drive.

And......

Giving the gift of "boob."