I like butts

And I cannot lie

I've discussed my almost obsessive compulsive urges regarding breasts of all sizes, colors, and religions, but I left hanging the detail of the second most important thing about women. That is, their rumpage.

This one, it's easier to look at. God knew when he created women that they would get annoyed about us not looking them in the eyes ("women have faces?") and so he gave us something to look at when they are otherwise occupied. You will notice that there is a similarity between the boo-tay and the breasts. Both tend to be round and mostly made up of hopes and dreams. The butt doesn't have nipples, but that's okay.

It has a tight hole, and if there's anything we like more than nipples, it's a tight hole.

Now, one major difference between the apples and the ass is that women don't wear clothes that push their ass up, revealing a huge amount off crack, and they do that for breasts. So we have to think about the ass a little longer, which is just great since women don't have eyes in the backs of their heads. At least not the kind of women I have sex with. I make no promises about Arab women.

I love asses. I only write about things I love or hate, and generally when I hate something I end up in a long rant, raving and frothing. When thinking about asses, I just drool. Asses are wonderful.

If they're shaped right. This Paris Hilton scrawny no-ass stuff going around? I can so do without, ladies. Eat a hamburger for your ass. Trust me, it's good. I'm not saying I like fat asses, I just like round asses. Plump, even. Something I can grip onto.

Now it's time for a teacher story.

My current math teacher, nicknames Mrs. Mathy, isn't young but she's not old. She's pretty spry and attractive for a college teacher. Not as hot as Mrs. Bendy, who has an ass you can see the future in, but I'll take what I can get. She's pretty excited about life, and I love girls like that. She also wears those weird pants women wear that don't go all the way down. Don't tell me the name -- I won't remember tomorrow anyway.

She has an ass -- ah! It's just, how am I supposed to concentrate on math? The only numbers I'm thinking about are one and two, with each number representing a cheek. When she's writing on the board it's like, wow, I hate to do math but I love to see you write on the board.

Today I noticed a panty line. Now, I'm on the record as being against thongs. I just don't like them, or the look of them, and I get irritated when I see a fat girl's thong right below her tramp stamp and when she turns around I'm treated to the moldy underside of her stomach hanging out. Ladies! No no! Learn to sew if you have to.

I also dislike thongs because no panty lines plus actually wearing underwear is FALSE ADVERTISEMENT, like padded bras. Just don't. That's like marrying me then gaining a hundred pounds, cutting your hair, and no longer having sex. How would you like it if I stopped being funny and treating you nice? Yeah. So just don't wear thongs. They're false advertisement. No panties? Hot. Thong? LIE.

Anyway, so I watched the panty line. And she's moving around a lot, writing, erasing, explaining, mathing. And it's moving with her. Towards the center. And it eventually finds comfortable rest where I would like to deposit some baby batter. She knew, I knew, but I don't think she knew I knew because I am so skilled I was correcting her mistakes as she wrote. Actually I just noticed one but still.

Fortunately for her, the dry-erase marker ran out, and she had to go get another one. When she came back, the panty line had resumed it's place on her cheek, and she taught away. Then it slooowly crawled back, creeping up on her crack like a rapist in the night. I wondered how she would pick it this time.

Well, it was fifteen till, so she just let us out early.

She's good.

Posted by at September 22, 2006 10:33 AM | TrackBack