I figured if the first part didn't draw you in, the second part would.Pervert.
Let's get the second part over with now.
This commercial boggles my mind. It's either one of the most erotic infomercials ever, or it's the most disturbing. I'm no Dr. McDreamy (unless it's in my veterinary metaphor), but I'm still guessing it's not natural for boobs to move sideways like that. If that's the idea, then they really screwed up on Baywatch girls going up and down all those years.
Watch a minute (or two- it's enchanting) of the footage. As a guy, I'm highly confused about my emotions on this- it is, technically, cleavage... but it looks like fleshy shape shifters. More accurately, it looks like those scarabs in "The Mummy" have grown larger, taken over that poor woman's chesticles, and are now pacing back and forth.
Am I missing something here, or wouldn't adding muscle, by doing chest exercises, actually decrease the bust line because breast tissue is made of fat? You didn't see busty swimmers and gymnasts at the Olympics, did you? Just a thought.
But hey, it worked for 58-year-old Kathleen H: "I saw everything come up and everything fill out." As Michael Scott would say, that's what she said.
On to important business. Ever since I started this blog, I've had the idea in the back of my head that it would be fun and memorable for me and entertaining for you if I gave an overview of some recent years in my life, kind of a "The Story of Andy." Not that every day goes as horribly as this one, but it might make for some high entertainment to recall past failures.
To do that straight from memory, though, would be a feat. But then I remembered one thing that tracks the passage of time better than clocks and fashion trends: E-mails.
Kids, I looked in my Hotmail account (which uses my AIM screen name from when I was in sixth grade), and I've got e-mails dating the whole way back to Dec. 2001, nearing the end of my first semester in college. Sent e-mails are precious few, but I've got tons and tons of received e-mails because I never delete them out of fear that one day I'd write a blog and some random person would want to read about them (I'm so smart).
So here is what I'm proposing-- and if it's a terrible idea, say so. I'd like to do a semi-regular series of posts (monthly?) that, using nothing but memory and snippets of e-mail text, reconstruct that fateful freshmen year until now. I promise to make it juicy and funny and terribly embarrassing on my half, without naming names to protect the innocent. This is either my best idea ever or my worst.
Most of it will be recounting and second-guessing what I was thinking at the time. There's also life-changing decisions, failures, successes- all the good stuff. What do you think?
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Also- I'm going out tonight with a new Ladyfriend. No, not Quiznos girl. This is someone with whom I've actually had a conversation with out loud and not just in my head, and who appears to be funny/cute/friendly/not likely to murder me/all those good things. And who, from what she said, reads this blog... and she still wants to see me tonight. This makes me wonder about the mental state of other men in her life if I seem like a viable option. Anyway, wish me luck. I promise to be a gentleman.
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