I work with a super great group of people at a very conservative company. I also work in the creative department which means we're a little looser than some of the people in this building. But boobie flashing is not usually going on any where in this building. Ever.
In the mornings I make the rounds around my floor, distributing mail, unlocking various workrooms and saying good morning to everyone. One particular morning I was wearing a demure pink cami, under a highlighter pink hounds tooth checkered coat and slacks. Sounds presentable, right? Right!
The problem started when a
co-worker commented on my jacket. He asked me if it was heavy and I was in the process of telling him 'no' when I pulled the jacket away from my body to show him how thin it was. Normally I wear a bra under my cami even if it has a built in bra because I tend to be a bit "sensitive" to the temperature and I don't want to put any one's eye out. (My friends don't call me "Radar" for nothing!) For some crazy reason I neglected to wear my usual iron lined bra so the twins were a bit "perky". Before I realized what I was doing, I basically flashed my "perky" boobie right into my co-workers face!
Talk about embarrassed...I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me! Usually when something embarrassing happens to me I point it out and laugh about it but this time I just made my departure happen as quickly as possible. My friend was nice enough not to say a word. He didn't gape or throw up or laugh. He acted like nothing ever happened but I can guarantee...my girl practically put his dang eye out.
And now for your entertainment...a wonderful ditty by Bette Midler
"This next story is a true story.
It concerns two of my favorite subjects:
industrial theft . . . and-a tatas!
Mmm, what a combo! This is the story . . .
The inventor of the modern foundation garment
that we women wear today was a German scientist
and opera lover by the name of Otto Titsling!
This is a true story.
His name was Otto Titsling.
What happened to Otto Titsling shouldn't happen to a schnauzer.
It's a very sad story. I feel I have to share it with you."
Otto Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least twice a week.
One night at the opera he saw an Aida
who's tatas were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit,
done in by the weight of those terrible tits.
Oh, my god! There she blows!
Aerodynamically this bitch was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly felt the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He knew what he had to do!
He ran back to his workshop
where he futzed and futzed and futzed.
For Otto Titsling had found his quest:
to lift and mold the female breast;
to point the small ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones high and dry!
Every night he'd sweat and snort
searching for the right support.
He tried some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even tried his own two lips!
Well, he stitched and he slaved
and he slaved and he stitched
until finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the worlds first
Exhausted but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva's house
bearing the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after many initial misgivings,
she finally did.
And the sigh of relief that issued forth
from the diva's mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by some
to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds
which would often roll through the Schwarzwald
with a vengeance!
But little did Otto know,
at the moment of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the diva's bed
was none other than the very worst
of the French patent thieves,
Philippe De Brassiere.
And Phil was watching the scene
with a great deal of interest!
Later that night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe Philippe softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore,
'til he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.
Crying, "Oh, my god! What joy! What bliss!
I'm gonna make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods manufactured in Taiwan."
"Oh, thank you!"
The result of this swindle is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere?
"Ohhh! Thank you!"
So, how do you wrap a story like this? You don't. I hope you had a good laugh over my idiocy. I know I did. Amen and good bye.