it’s not polite to leer

Let’s face it. We all know that I am a bit lucky in the breasticle area. I have a rack and I don’t worry about hiding it. (because seriously, where on earth would I hide it? Behind a barn? Wearing a tent? No thanks)

Yesterday I wore a cleavage dress and I will admit that my girls looked pretty good. It was a good boob day. (I know, you’re asking if there is ever a bad boob day–trust me, there is.) They weren’t all out there in their own zipcode and they weren’t pandering at the corner, but they also weren’t wearing wallpaper and blending into the background either.

I’m used to the occasional glance of appreciation and even the occasional “HELLO THERE” stare. What I am NOT used to and will NEVER be used to is the leer.

And yesterday, while sitting at THE LONGEST STOP LIGHT EVER, I was the recipient of a leer.

A really creepy, old dude in a moving truck leer.

You know how you just know when someone in the car next to you is staring and you don’t wanna look over at them but then you do anyway? Yeah, that’s what happened and I wish I hadn’t. Ugh.

Finally, the light changed and I moved forward only to have Mr. McLeeryPants driving at the same pace. Still leering. And possibly drooling a little while he was mouth-breathing. Gross. Close your mouth, CroMagnon. Thanks.

So I did what any smart girl in my situation would do. I hit the brakes and he flew right by…

Then I gave him the inverted finger:

Then I requested a fly by from the tower and was denied. But I did it anyway and made the dude spill coffee on his uniform and after getting my ass properly handed to me, I went to the beach to watch a little volleyball action.

Best end to the day ever… (the scene is in Spanish which just adds a little spice…)

Hope you guys have a great weekend!

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