Fear it. Love it. Most of all, respect it.
People, a little bit of cleavage is a powerful thing (as I learned in the last episode of 'Kitchen Confidential,' or you know, a hundred years ago in that episode of Seinfeld). A lot of cleavage is a dangerous thing. You can incite violent ardor with it. And you can lose things like beer nuts or Tokyo in it.
I was witness to the awesome terror of too much cleavage on Saturday night. We were celebrating Josh's 25th. Toby was in town. There were army men on the cake, a High Life in my hand, and a killer game of Bullshit on the table. All was well with the world (cue up ominous don't-go-in-the-basement music here)... and then....
A complete (lady) stranger sidled up to us, with the better part of her generous bosom spilling out of her tube dress. It was a perfectly lovely dress, except the bodice was barely staving off a breach of areolae. I had spotted this while she was at the bar for a beverage, but I thought we were safe (after all, why would you sidle up to people you don't know with your breasts on the verge of escape?), but just like that, there they were... PLACED ON A LEDGE IN MY FACE. The breasts, with divine intervention, stayed put in their flowered trussing. She chatted with us amiably, but we were powerless, hopelessly confused - unconcerned with her reasons for striking up a conversation with us in the first place. How does one converse with a stranger who's about demonstrate her worthiness of Mardi Gras beads without being asked and without it being Mardi Gras?
Claire and I couldn't blink. We feared that if we disturbed the seismic equilibrium of the room in any way, they would come screaming out of their prison to crush us. Seth was rendered speechless, Josh hid himself behind a phalanx of army men and readied his helicopter for takeoff. Will forged bravely on and put down 8 kings. None of us knew why she'd chosen us to be her new friends, but confronted with a woman with a yard of cleavage, it didn't seem to matter. We just wanted to get out of it alive. Was she hiding an alien in there?
Then, just as quickly as she arrived, she departed and took the ladies with her. It was as if it never happened. My eyes remoistened, we moved on with our lives. But important questions linger: Why why why? Why would you leave home with seemingly imminent danger of breast escape?
Girl I Don't Know, you register a mere 4 on my Deride-ometer. It was not the most offensive thing I've ever encountered. I could hardly muster the ability to lift my drink nevermind the withering scorn I reserve for an elite few.
I thank whatever force was holding them in, and I thank you, Girl I Don't Know, for teaching us all a lesson in the terrifying power of the cleavage. Next time, I think I can speak for all of us when I say: Please refrain from showing us quite so much of your tits. Thanks and God Bless.
Relatedly, a Google image search for "cleavage" is a funny* thing. I felt this image of "cytokinesis in animals" most inspires the special kind of revulsion that I experienced Saturday night.**
* by "funny," I mean "upsetting."
**I also felt that the results of a Google image search for "yard-long cleavage" might burn my retinas.
2 comments:
Wow, I had totally blocked that out. But alas, the memory has returned. Sadly, I don't recall her being all that attractive.
who could see her face past all of the cleavage? i just remember seth's face the whole time. and how much i cheated at bullshit whilst everyone was distracted. thank you, cleavage girl, thank you so much.
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