2000-06-27 | 19:32:29

what is it about the meeting of two bosoms?

a plump little canyon of skin.

two mammary sumo wrestlers pressing against each other in an 18-hour showdown.

cleavage.

there is a girl in my improv class who is a cute little package if there ever was one. curly dishwater blonde locks that tossle down to her shoulders. a perky nose lightly placed upon a heart-shaped face. a healthy serving of breasts and a tight little tummy.

this girl knows she's got it goin' on. and she bounces. a lot. she wears one of those second-skin bras that promises to "move with you," and boy does it. over the limber lingerie, she wears snug little, scooped-neck, belly-baring lycra tees that also are amiable bosom buddies.

i don't know if you are aware of it, especially you male types, but bouncing knowingness is really annoying. my friend and i have grumbled about the phenomenon during class breaks and have discussed film-noiresque plans to take her out in the alley and jack her shit up.

"it's the perfect alley for it, too," cooed my friend.

today as i dressed for class, i reached for the most cleavage-iest top i have. it's time i went mano-a-mano, chi chi-a-chi chi with this chick.

oh yeah, *cheek clucking noise* there's trouble in hooterville. that beotch is going down. my ass in her face! 'cause nictate 3:16 said so.

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