Finally, science has given us men the perfect response if/when we should ever get caught ogling another woman’s breasts:
“Honey, I’m exercising.”
It’s true. A new German study, published in the ‘New England Journal of Medicine’, has concluded after a five year study that staring at women’s breasts for a few minutes daily is better for your health than going to the gym. In fact, just 10 minutes a day of looking at some woman’s heaving sweater monkeys is the equivalent to a 30 minute aerobics workout, says Dr. Karen Weatherby, an expert on aging.
Well, that’s just about the best example I can think of for five years well spent if you ask me. Imagine being a fly on the wall at that laboratory; I only wish I could have been a test subject. Talk about your easy money! “Okay, Mr. Nash, we’re going to bring in Wendy Whoppers and we’d like you to stare directly at her ta-ta’s for a few minutes, okay?”
No shame. No necessary tip tucked into her G-string. No nothing.
Apparently, the men who were told to stare at a woman’s D-cup (or larger) bazonga’s daily developed a lower blood pressure and slower resting heart rates, while also decreasing their risk of coronary artery disease. Dr. Weatherby explained: “Sexual excitement gets the heart pumping and improves blood circulation. There’s no question – gazing at large breasts makes men healthier.”
Hallelujah!
Forget the treadmill, baby, I might just have to add this to my own personal training schedule going forward. After all, I want to be fit and healthy for my family as I get older to ensure that I’m still around for them for a long time to come. And if scoping out other women’s jubblies is what I have to do, oh well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do I guess.
“Honey, pack up the kid we’re going to Hooters!”
After all, you can’t argue with science.
God help me.
Take ‘Sleeping Beauty’ for example. She falls into a magical, semi-conscious stupor only to be awakened by the kiss of a prince. This sounds a little all-too familiar doesn’t it, ladies? It sounds to me like Princess Aurora aka “Sleeping Beauty” had one too many margaritas at the bar with her friends on ‘Thirsty Thursday’ and woke up to a sloppy frat boy sucking her face. If this isn’t the poster campaign for avoiding drunken hook-up’s, I don’t know what is. But, hey, it happens.
1. We did not have iPods, iPads, E-Readers, cell phones or digital doo-dads or gee-gaws of any kind so “alone time” really meant just that: Alone. Scary concept, I know. You weren’t automatically connected to the world around you 24/7. Now, should the batteries on HRH’s iPod ever run out there’s inevitably a meltdown of Biblical proportion. We did not have email, texting capabilities or chat rooms either. We had something called a “Post Office” which required you to actually hand write a paper letter with a writing implement of some sort, walk across town to purchase a stamp, then back to the other side of town to drop it in a mail box (the non-digital kind) before waiting the pre-requisite three months to get a reply.
6. As far as music goes, we had no Napster, iTunes, or free pirate downloading sites. We had to actually “steal” our music the old fashioned way and risk being returned home to our parents by the mall security. Or, we had to sit in front of the radio with our fingers poised over the record button on our cassette decks hoping for the right song to come next. Inevitably, we either missed the beginning of the song or the DJ would talk through half of it and fuck it all up anyway.
9. Furthermore, we had no dedicated Cartoon Channel, Disney Channel, or Y-TV to watch. Kids programming occurred usually on Saturday mornings only. Yes, we had to go a whole fucking week without cartoons and, even then, our parents inevitably kicked us outside half way through ‘Scooby Doo’ anyway. There was no such thing as ‘Good Luck Charlie’ marathons, not that our parents would have allowed us to stay inside all day anyway. If we wanted to watch something outside of that Saturday morning window of opportunity, it usually meant we had to bargain and plead our souls for the chance as there was also a thing known as “consequence”.
Inevitably, part of being a step-dad is that you have to involve yourself in the child’s interests, whatever they may be. It also inevitably means that you almost never to get to watch your favorite television programs anymore should they happen to air around bedtime. Yes, it’s true. One of HRH’s favorite interests is the nightly ritual of ‘cuddle time’ in the comfy chair downstairs before bed; she craves it like others might crave water, or chocolate. It’s simply a part of her regular evening ritual every much as brushing her teeth and going to the bathroom. And who am I to complain if she likes to cuddle with me? I certainly can’t blame her…I’m totally cuddle-worthy. And, hey, if it helps gets to bed smoothly without raising a fuss, then so be it.
