Tuesday, June 13, 2006

"A breast a breast, my kingdom for a breast."

Las Vegas…

The city of breasts.

They’re everywhere.

It must be the heat.

It was only 98 degrees in Vegas.

It was a dry heat.

A wet heat and the breasts would have stayed hidden but a dry heat brings em out.

I think they’re like prairie dogs.

But you shouldn’t throw peanuts at them.

It’s like they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but it can’t stay in a blouse.

I’m not complaining. I just don’t understand why breasts want to come out and play while you’re in a restaurant. I saw a lot of breasts at dinner.

Maybe it’s the “fusion” cuisine.

It seems to me all of the restaurants are going “fusion”. Chinese Fusion, Japanese Fusion, French Fusion, American Fusion.

I think “fusion” is Latin for “small portions served with weeds while you expose your breasts for $75 a plate.”

So maybe breasts are just sitting in a “fusion” restaurant saying to themselves, “Hey, is that all there is? I’m still hungry. I need a little attention over here.”

Doesn’t anyone ever wonder why you never see a “Somali Fusion” restaurant?

Probably because the portions are already small.

And who wants to expose their breasts in a Somali restaurant?

Not me.

I guess I understand why the younger breasts are poking out all over. They’re young, impetuous, yearning to be free, ready to explore brave new worlds...

But the older breasts....

There should be a law.

So why do I bring this whole breast thing up?

Because the back of my head really hurts.

Because my wife has this habit of smacking me in the back of the head for no good reason.

Because I may have inadvertently spied a wayward breast.

“Dammit woman stop smacking me.”

“Stop staring at those girls breasts.”

“I wasn’t staring at “those” girls breasts.”

“Really? And you almost walked into a wall because the sun blinded you?”

“Uh... bright lights, bright lights.”

“Idiot, you’re no gremlin.”

“It’s not my fault there are breasts everywhere. They’re calling to me in a little voice like in that movie “The Fly”. “Help me, Help me.”

“OUCH!!! Jesus! Stop it, enough already! You’re going to give me brain damage.”

“I’ll give you brain damage alright.”

“Look if you walk by the painting of the Mona Lisa you’re going to look right? Well Las Vegas is kind of like one big art gallery. I don’t rub my hands all over the paintings; I just look and appreciate them for artistic reasons.”


“Let me put it this way. If you don’t knock it off this art gallery is going to be closed. Capiche Calabrese?”

“Um... It’s not my fault... I’m Italian... Don’t hit me again. I get it okay?”

“Idiot, now what are you doing?”

“I’m looking down.”

“What’s with the ducking?”

“Uh... I see legs... They’re everywhere...”

“You look like an idiot bobbing up and down like that.”

“I don’t want to end up in a coma.”

“Knock it off.”

“OWWWWW!!!!! What happened to what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?”

“You should believe everything you see on TV.”

"Can we go to a buffet now?"

"Why? You never eat at buffets."

"I'm in the mood for some boneless breasts."


"You just can't help yourself can you?"

"No... I'm an artist."