For the sake of this blog, I'll assume you know what a Brat is. Not the running, screaming, give-me-my-bloody-toy-mommy-or-I'll-throw-a-tantrum brat, rather, a Bratwurst. German sausage bigger than a hot dog and far better. And you'll remember, Johnson, my exhibitionist neighbor who vacuums in the nude for the benefit of those with windows facing his across the courtyard.
Johnson opens the window to vacuum in the summertime. This is a new tidbit I hadn't known before. And he sings. Quite well, actually. I knew he sang before because his mouth is always moving, but seeing and hearing are quite different things, aren't they? Do you know what else I've discovered about Johnson's Brat and his vacuum? I'm fairly certain you don't. I'll tell you he enjoys fresh air and the stretch hose attachment. Either I'm not so observant as I thought, or he's escalating his affection for cleanliness.
Other shit: Finally able to shave my legs and wear skirts again. You have no idea the joy that brings me. I find myself reaching down to touch my legs, so happy to find them bare again. Which might not be such a terrible thing, I suppose, if D (remember luscious D? My wank-boss' boss?) had not happened to stop at my desk while I was in mid-stroke, a smile of bliss on my face (sunburned, freshly shaved legs itch. Feels fantastic to rub them. I shouldn't have to explain myself), and look up to see him looking straight down my open neck-collar.
He's still luscious. I'm freshly annoyed.
Note to self: "Mia, buy a plastic back scratcher to re-purpose for legs. Will allow you to remain upright and groan your bliss without Roving Eye Movements down your shirt."
3 comments:
I find myself curious. Is there some particular non-aesthetic value to having your blouse undone at the neck? My expectation is that women who expose their cleavage do so with the intent of using their breasts as a fashion statement. To draw attention for the purpose of looking good. And yet, somehow, often seem to take offense if they catch a guy starting down their blouse.
To a guy, this seems to defy logic. If I walked around with my fly unzipped and my penis partially exposed, it would seem silly to take offense at women starting in that direction.
Is there some physical comfort derived from not having your shirt buttons to a reasonably concealing level?
wv: glyzkbog
I've got nothing.
Glad to hear you're able to shave again! Now, Johnson should be in a book. I do see many scenes in my mind. :)
J- There can be. Smooshed parts do get warm. It isn't the glance to the cleavage which irks, it's the searching of cleavage when one bends over to retrieve something, or in my case, rub my itchy legs. It wasn't an invitation and part of the annoyance is with myself for forgetting the neckline was open and knowing I could have raised a covering hand. Why should I have to? Can't a man see and avert his eyes when he sneaks up on you? Would you stare up a skirt or not tell a friend his nose has a green stowaway?
I see your point, but searching the depths of my shirt isn't a glance of appreciation.
Amber- he should be. The man certainly has enough bizarre traits for a foil.
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