A Boob’s Tale

So here I am with my second post in a row. I might as well be running this whole shebang. I think I’m going to go the Heather Locklear – Melrose Place route and keep my special guest star billing, despite being on the show every week for four years. Special guest just sounds so … special.

As you will have gathered, I made it back from Thailand in one piece. Sadly, there was no upgrade to business class. I think we were almost there, what with the hideous beige lymphodema sleeve and the doctor’s letter and the I’ve had cancer face, but the check-in lady caught one sight of the kid and our chances were done. People do not pay big bucks to sit up the pointy end only to listen to a 6-year-old boy loudly narrate his game of Angry Birds Star Wars on the iPad for eight hours straight. Although if anyone from Guantanamo Bay is reading, I reckon I’ve found your latest and greatest instrument of torture. He goes by the name of Hugh and will.not.shut.up.

Anyway, after our stint in the cheap seats, we made it to Thailand – or as I like to call it – land of the continuous sweat. I am handmade in Germany, and have a special backing material which means I am warm against the skin in winter, and cool against the skin in summer. Except if summer is hotter than a balmy 26 degree day in Berlin, in which case I will become the cause of considerable extra sweating. Because when it’s 35 degrees celcius and 95% humidity, and she’s walking around a market where stalls are packed in like a crazy person’s game of tetris, what she needs is a little something else to make her perspire. She wasn’t up for much shopping at those markets, although she did lash out and get me these Prada sunglasses for $2. The man at the market stall said they were 100% genuine. I said me too. Oh how we laughed.

prada boob

You’ll be pleased to hear that I managed to keep myself safe whilst swimming in Thailand. She wore a rashie over her swimsuit so I had no chance of escape. I did notice that we were the only ones not frying our skin wearing nothing but a string bikini and some coconut oil in the blazing sun. You might be looking tanned now, ladies and gents of Russia who like to holiday in Thailand en masse, but eventually you’re going to look like this:


So there was lots of swimming, meeting of elephants, patting of tiger cubs, rides in tuktuks and visits to temples. I got through all that ok, although I admit I was a bit worried when one of the baby elephants groped me with its trunk. When you touch me, I do feel somewhat like a squishy rockmelon so I can’t blame that elephant for having a crack, but fortunately for me a nice man came to the rescue with a banana (and no, I don’t mean that metaphorically, this is not an episode of the Benny Hill Show you know).


Now we’re back in Australia and on the countdown to Christmas. Actually Boxing Day is when I really celebrate, for obvious reasons. And speaking of boxes, I have a new friend. Some dear mates of she who’s supposed to write this blog recently visited the Museum of Old and New Art in Tasmania where they saw a very special exhibition. It was a collection of moulds made from the :ahem: lady gardens from a lot of ladies. By lady gardens, I mean the downstairs area. You know, the vulva. Anyway, as you would imagine, these mates are very cultured, and they know I’m a classy boob, so they bought back someone to keep me company on the shelf of an evening. I’m so pleased to be able to introduce you to her now. Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, behold my friend Pussy in a Package:

pussy package 2

Just to be clear, whilst I’ll be doing my daily duties in the bra, Pussy will be staying in her package all the time, because thankfully we don’t know anyone who has practical need of a prosthetic vulva made of lemon myrtle-scented soap.

I’m just off to register the domain name http://www.pussyinapackage.com (can’t imagine why that one would already be taken) and then I’ll be spending some quality one-on-one time with my friend who smells like the Australian bush. Come to think of it, she kinda looks like it too.

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