Thursday, October 8, 2009

Outtakes 1

Why must unhooking a bra be so complicated? It's only two clasps, yet I have a better chance of reading braille than getting two hooks undone in under 4 minutes. I start fumbling around with excitement like a young Mikey circa Christmas '91 when I knew there was a GameBoy hidden in one of those shirt boxes - sweaty palms, drool, and a maniacal look in my eyes.

Good thing the family isn't around to take pictures at least.
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5 comments:

  1. UnknownOctober 8, 2009 at 8:00 PM

    practice, practice, practice.

    ReplyDelete
  2. jackOctober 9, 2009 at 2:06 PM

    Nice,
    I was thinking the 'you'll shoot your eye out' Mikey though... maybe his name is not Mikey, I don't remember...

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  3. UnknownOctober 12, 2009 at 12:42 PM

    lol I find it so funny when guys are fumbling around, get frusterated and I can just reach back and it takes a split second for me to unclasp it.

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  4. MikeyOctober 12, 2009 at 10:00 PM

    They should make them like the clasps you find on baby car seat rather than two little pinhooks

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  5. EricNovember 14, 2009 at 11:15 PM

    This is where a FWB is handy, because she'll be more patient than your first-timer. I actually find one-handing it to be easier than two hands: Pinch the sides of the clasp together with thumb and first two fingers (takes a decent grip) and let your thumb slide forward. It's literally the same motion as snapping your fingers. I was making out with a girl the other day and had trouble. When I finally gave up... turns out she couldn't get it undone either.

    And if the shirt is already off, remember the emergency exit! Pull up on the front of the cups. The girl will instinctively raise her arms, and it comes off like a shirt.

    Or date a gal with b-cups. They don't have to wear bras quite so much, and don't even have to adjust after a hot makeout session.

    Dude, you need to adopt a big brother who'll commit to being a bad influence. Before I adopted my Italian big brother, I was a geek with a 300-pound bipolar alcoholic pillhead for a wife. Now I'm married to an organic tall leggy blonde who cooks, wears fuck-me boots on request, and makes dirt angels when we're out hiking. (And is too perky to need a bra all the time.)

    ReplyDelete

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