When I was a kid my equally shy friend Mike Hudson and I were, I think, fairly acute observers of the life that spun around us. Possibly because, up to this point he are I had a total of probably three girls we went out with occasionally (OK, Mike had all three of those dates but that’s besides the point) from the age of say 10-18. Surmise away, my astute readers, yes I was still a virgin and I mean kisses.
Anyway, Mike and I should have grown up writing comedy. There are others who I connect with on a funny level that’s equally as strong but Mike and I should have written it down.
One year we were able to scam our way out of art class by working a deal with the teacher. If we could produce a collection of stories we were excused from class so that we could seek “inspiration.” Both Mike and I were the starting guards on a independent high school basketball team so we would head to the auditorium of our school and shoot baskets. I think we started working maybe two or three weeks before it was due and the finished product was “The Mortimer Snerd Coloring Book” which was a collection of jokes we wrote or stole and drew characters for and then assembled it as a flip coloring book.
We got an H that semester. Wait, what? H??? Yes, for two years in the Lakewood school system the administration implemented a “progressive” grading system and H stood for honors which was a cut above an A. Oh, by the way, we beat the conference champion varsity basketball team in a summer league game in Senior year.  We were an extremely competitive, shy group of guys.
What about the breasts? You implore.
Once Mike and I noticed while watching live TV some guy totally sleaze a split second look at some girls breasts the minute she looked away and finding it really funny. “Check it out! Did you see that guy check her tits out? Hee, hee.” Cut some slack, we were prob 13 or 14.
To this day I can’t help but notice when it happens (image above from Late Night with Jimmy Fallon). By the way, I took the screenshot for this posting. I’m not on some cultural anthropologist.
Then, in my mid-20’s I dated a woman who was very endowed and she told me once how annoying it was to have such big breasts because the minute a man looked she felt like her intellectual capacity had been taken from her. “He talked to my boobs but didn’t listen to my voice.”
One time when my Mom was 16 she cut school to see Frank Sinatra perform and she and her friend were able to convince the local promotor to let them interview Frank for their school newspaper so she got backstage. Anyway, as she was leaning against a wall Frank’s drummer, Buddy Rich, a Jazz legend was walking by. When he saw my Mom he stopped and said to her face, “Hey, nice knockers!” She told me that she wanted to crawl away she was so embarrassed.
Now that I’m older I find it more interesting how people on TV aren’t REALLY supposed to act like normal people (insert unwritten code) even though they’re supposed to be acting like they ARE. Though I have to admit, I still watch TV shows and keep my eye on the male actors eyes to see if he will sneak a peek.
Is it a glimpse of humanity in an otherwise plastic place or deafness? Hmmmmm.
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