Boobies

I was planning on taking time today to discuss the end of my vegetarianism, but there is a much more pressing matter at hand: boobies.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I like breasts. I wish I could explain why I am so enamored with breasts instead of only saying things like, "They’re awesome and look nice" and "They are fun to touch" and "I like it when they bounce," but I can’t. I don’t want to get all Freudian, because that’s just nasty. I am damn sure that that’s not the root of it.

Alternatively, my first serious girlfriend, my first serious everything, was very, um, gifted in the boobs department; the kind of girl that sprouted breasts when I was still eating paste and pissing myself in class. Perhaps that has something to do with it; I am forever in search of boobies to match the first I ever became acquainted with. My lust for large mammories is a manifestation of nostalgia, not specifically for the girl, but generally for my past. But that seems almost too easy.

And even before that, as soon as I knew they existed and that girls were pretty, nice breasts have been important to me. I'd like ample boobies in a potential lady friend. This doesn’t necessarily mean DD’s, but they have to be at least bigger than mine (and let me tell you something, mine are nothing to sneeze at).

[I ask you to allow me to be a pig for a minute and clarify what I mean by "nice" boobies. If you have D-sized boobs but are 250 pounds, those are not nice boobies. What we’re aiming for is slight disproportion. Meaning, you don’t have to stop traffic with your 34D-22-32 measurements, but I want a little extra sumpin’ up top, just enough for it to be noticeable. Slight disproportion is ideal.]

Over the past few weeks and months, I have become increasingly obsessed with boobies. Again, I don’t know why, but it’s happening. Maybe it’s a function of getting older; as I grow older and more lonely I’m becoming just that more perverted and have less and less a problem with staring down a girl for a solid three minutes, often causing her to walk away from me quickly, all because the top two buttons of her blouse are open. The worst part is that this is a development that will surely not be helped by the arrival of spring, when cleavage makes its grand return (also known as the greatest time of the year). This may push me over the edge and you may soon be reading a headline saying, "Blogger Johnny Trashbag arrested in Central Park for allegedly recruiting actresses for sex fetish tape with promises of cocaine, enemas."

But the real reason I’m compelled to discuss this matter today is because of two women, Jenny Lewis and Tabitha Tindale, singers of the bands Rilo Kiley and Joy Zipper, respectively.

I was introduced to the music of Rilo Kiley a few months back but almost immediately dismissed them as chick rock. I like chick rock a little, but at that point in my life I was not interested in it. Eventually, I gave them a second chance and started to like some of their stuff, particularly the song "Does He Love You?". I continued to listen to them but wasn’t blown away. It seemed that I was destined to be a casual Rilo Kiley fan.

And then I saw a picture of Jenny Lewis. She's got some serious fucking cans.

But that was only just the beginning. I dug and little deeper and learned over time, by scouring through pictures on the web and downloading some Rilo Kiley music videos, that Jenny Lewis is, indeed, certifiably boobilicous.

Suddenly, I became a huge Rilo Kiley fan. I listened to everything of theirs I could get my hands on, starting telling all my friends about them, and considered picking up the guitar to increase my chances of joining her band (I said "considered" because we all know I'm too lazy to actually go through with it). I was hooked.

I fell into near obsession because I was captivated by boobies, trapped under their spell. But then it got worse.

Meet Tabitha Tindale, singer/keyboard player in the boy-girl duo Joy Zipper.

Goodness gracious.

I did not like Joy Zipper prior to seeing any pictures of them. I didn’t dislike them, but my general feeling was "Eh."

Now, after seeing pictures of her online, I am mounting a campaign to run for the presidency of the Joy Zipper fan club. Every time I hear the song "Baby You Should Know", the only song I kinda liked before learning that Tabitha was arguably the most boobilicous fox in the world, I pee a little.

For a few days, I fell so deeply into boobmania that I lost track of myself and what’s important to me. I found myself effusively praising and obsessively listening to Joy Zipper, absorbing news about the band, looking at all the pictures, convincing myself that they were the next coming of Elvis, and wanting to be a part of it.

I take my music very seriously. For years, I tried to keep my love of music separate from my love of boobies. But now the two were combining. And I had a moment.

Am I really that easy? Is a pair of breasts really all it takes for me to lose control of all judgment? Is that how it works: I forsake my sense, my taste, my objectivity when I see a nice pair of tits? Really?

The answer is yes. It has always been yes. But today, it ends.

I, am a booby addict.

This is something that I have come to accept in the past few days. And I know that acceptance is the first step.

I, am a booby addict.

I don’t know where this road will lead me, but I realize it is time. I have to rid myself of this specter that has haunted me for the past eighteen-plus years. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m terrified. We’ll start slowly, as I try to wean (no pun intended) myself off my obsession. Maybe I’ll tell myself over and over again that boobs are just fat(Wonderful, glorious fat). And that though a girl might have large, round, sweet, delicious orbs right now, they will eventually only sag, which will cause her any number of back problems (Though I will probably be long dead before my girlfriend’s/wife’s/lover’s breasts get to this point). And maybe, when searching for porn to download, I will not use words and phrases like "big tits" and "large naturals" and "huge boobs" but rather "flat chicks" and "tiny titties" and "boy chest". But I’m getting off track here…

The point is that I promise you that I committed to affecting a positive change in my life. I plan to rid myself of this curse that has controlled me for too long. Both for my sake and for yours.

Because I, am addicted to masturbating.

I mean, I’m a booby addict. I, am a booby addict.

(One addiction at a time, please.)