I have a lot of female friends. More of a curse than a blessing, really. But it does lead to some pretty interesting things, a lot of which would absolutely positively never happen with the guys. One of these things happens to be conversations about their breasts. Yes, you read that right, conversations about their breasts. I don't know how or why it comes up, but it has with pretty much every girl I know. From how small they are, to how she wishes they weren't so big, to how the right one is bigger than the left one. Girls have had all of those conversations with me at one point. I shit you not.

And what is up with that anyway? I mean, one or two, fine, but every fucking girl I know has gone into boobie detail with me at some point. What the hell? Am I like the go-to guy when it comes to this? I mean damn. What is up?

Girl1: Y'know, I don't really like my boobs, they're small and kind of lopsided.
Girl2: Oh, I know just the guy you should talk to.

But, I digress. So, I've been in a lot of breast conversations, and it would seem that women are really insecure about these things. They're too small, or they're too big, or they're too lopsided, uneven, et al. I have yet to meet a girl who was completely happy with her bust. I can see that this is to women as penis size is to men. Except we don't talk about it with the other guys. Not even close. I guess women feel more open about it because while you can't tell a guy's size just by looking at him, women's breast size are pretty apparent no matter what they do. Or maybe they just like talking about their breasts. Damned if I know.

Anyway, the point of this editorial (and yes, I do have one) is to clarify once and for all the breast and how we men feel about them. Heh heh. Feel about them. *shakes head* Sorry for the juvenile humor there. But I'm about to go into exposition about breasts. Forgive me if my brain doesn't always stay on track here.

I think the main thing to clear up here is - size doesn't matter! That's right ladies, unlike that lie you tell to small penis'd men to not crush their egos into a fine powder, breast size actually does not matter all that much. Its the shape and direction that counts. But more on that later. I think the key word here is proportional. If you have a small frame, you should not have breasts that eclipse the fucking sun. That's just unnatural. And, a little scary. I think most guys are more into asses and legs these days, and probably don't care about the bust (or excess or lack thereof). ...I however am a dedicated Breast Man. I was born one (seriously...where do you think I got dinner from?) and I'll die one. And even for an avid breast lover such as myself, I don't mind small ones. ...Of course, there is a too small. What's too small? Well, let me put it this way - if you put on a baseball cap, take off your shirt, walk around outside, and nobody even notices...that is way too fucking small. Obviously, either God did not like you, or you are an ice skater/gymnast. If you are from either of these camps, you need to exploit the other areas...legs, ass, and face.

And there is such a thing as too big. D's are okay, DD's depend on the size of the woman...and anything above is a little bit excessive. E's? Oh my fucking God. If you have never seen your feet, your boobies are too goddamned big. If little children stand under you for shade in the summer, your boobies are too goddamned big. If you're on top of your boyfriend, and he looks up and suddenly exclaimed "Oh no, two giant walruses are falling from the sky!", your boobies are too goddamned big. And once gravity wins that battle, and oh it will, that shit will not be pretty. You will have to pay triple admission for any sporting event you go to because, by definition, you will be occupying three seats. Yours, and the two in the row below you.

Okay, so size is not as important as you women may think. What is then? As I said before, shape and direction. Shape? Yes, shape. Because boobies come in many shapes. I could go on listing those shapes, but that does nothing for either of us so I'll cut to the point. Round. We like em round. Oh those are nice. To illustrate my point, I will show you all a poster of what, I feel, are quite possibly the greatest boobs, maybe ever.

....Yeah.

I bought that poster for my first dorm room in college. I was young, and posters, not pictures, were the kinds of things you put up on your walls. Even then, I wasn't the type who'd put up girl posters. I didn't (and still don't) have a favorite actress or anything, and I think most of the women in the mainstream media are vastly overrated. But, I was thumbing through the posters at Prints Plus, and my eyes befell that beauty. My heart literally skipped a beat. I damn near fainted from the speed at which the blood left my brain and went, um, downstairs. I had actually left the store, but every time I blinked, I could see that poster as an after-image.

So I absolutely had to go back and buy it.

And let me tell you, the amount of attention this poster recieved from the men on my floor, not just that first year, but the subsequent second year, was staggering. We all talked about it. We tried to guess her name. We tried to look it up. One day, I got a knock on my door. It was a guy from down the hall. He comes into my room, looks at the poster for 10 seconds, turns to me, says "That's all I wanted to do", and left. I totally understood him on that.

What is it about that poster? Her messed up hair? The "come ravage me" look on her face? Those low cut shorts? No! Its those perfect boobs. Holy shit. Its taken me ten minutes just to write this sentence because I keep scrolling up and staring at them. They are that fucking pimp. They're not even that big, but the shape is just perfect. I said it when I bought this poster, and I'll say it now. If this girl came to my door and said to me, "I just want to spend the night with you," afterwards, I'd have to shoot myself. That would be the pinnacle of my existence. I could do no better in my life. That'd be it. Nothing to live for anymore. And I'll be damned if I didn't die one happy fucker. The only words that could possibly save my life would be if she rolled over and whispered in my ear "I'll see you tomorrow."

For the guys: the name of that poster is Sweet Sixteen. And yes, I too hope that she wasn't really sixteen in that picture. That would be wrong in every way imagineable. And no, I don't know the name of the girl in the poster. Although I really wish I did. Name, home address, work address, weekly schedule, and favorite hangout places. ...What? No, I'm not a stalker...

To continue with the main editorial here *ahem*, the other important aspect in Breast Connoisseur-ism is direction. They can't be pointing to the left, right, and certainly not down. Straight, maybe with a little up. And both in the same direction. That's important. Because when they're pointing in opposite directions, that's just all wrong. Take Mariah Carey. She has some serious East/West issues. In that one is always pointing to New York, the other to California. Not cool.

So, fear not ladies. You don't have to be shopping for a double D bra to be turning guys heads. Something that's there, round, and nice to behold works just fine. Of course, if you can produce as much cleavage as humanly possible, do it! This girl did...

I doubt many of you even notice she's dressed up as a video game character. Why? We all know why. Hot damn.

Please pardon me, while I take a moment to regroup.

Okay, I'm fine now. I'm sure many of the women out there are wondering why we guys like the boobies so much. "They're just sacks of fat" and what not. Yeah, we know. Ask us if we fucking care. Breasts are like Apple Jacks - we don't know why we like them, we just do. And why question the magic? Why do you like chocolate? Or movies starring Hugh Grant? Or shopping? Let us have our boobies, and you can spend as much time shopping for that perfect t-shirt/jeans combo as you want. In fact, wear something showing as much cleavage as the girl above, and you can fucking pitch a tent in the store and camp out there overnight. I promise you, we won't care. We'll help you pitch the damned tent. Its a simple solution really, one that we can all benefit from.

Breasts are like God's gift to the world. Art, if you will. Which is why one of the most tragic things on this Earth are breast implants. Why? Why why why? Why must you defile nature like that? It's like painting a handlebar moustache on the Mona Lisa. Defilement, at its worst. First of all, they're so fucking obvious. Its like someone cut a coconut in half and just stuck them on your chest. That's horrible. And some of them, they'll be big sure, but then they'll be so far apart, I swear, you could drive a fucking golf cart up straight up her chest and still clear either boob by a couple of feet. And that's not even mentioning the scars.

And then, they're hard! Breasts should be soft, like fluffy pillows. Or, clouds. Not like the fucking rocky shore of Carmel, California. Advances in technology what the fuck ever. Those fake-os will never match the quality of the real deal. If you can use your chest to beat someone senseless, they are too hard. If you give people hugs, and they pass out from the pain, they are too fucking hard. If you can knock yourself out from jogging, they are too fucking hard. Small soft ones will always be infinitely preferable to large, hard ones.

And we can always tell. Men are natural connoisseurs. We would be a shame and a disgrace if we couldn't. Like Spider-Man getting blindsided. Our Boobie Sense guides us. Or some crap.

So yeah, boobs are great. Ladies, if you're reading, for the love of God, don't defile them. Don't get implants. Do not tattoo them. That's just vandalism right there. Do not freak out if they're not as big as you'd like. Appreciate them. We certainly do. And wear more clothes with cleavage. I command it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more connoisseuring to do.