NSFW. i don't know how else to say it. seriously. NSFW. this is not pr0n.

yeah.  that's right.  it's borderline porn.

but with fake bewbz.  really fake.

let me start at the beginning....


my wife (a bestie from high school) loves building and sculpting and artsy things.  and ended up with a job at a company that makes fake cadavers.

yes.  you read that right.

the company makes, like, fake bodies and torsos and shit like that for medical students to learn on.  she's sculpted teensy veins for people to practice, like, veiny shit on.  and she's assembled a body on top of a skeleton by attaching muscles in an anatomically correct way.

seriously.  what a job, right?

anyway, so for reasons undisclosed to me, they were casting bewbz.  like, i don't know if someone requested them or what, but they could hide things in the breast to have people search for them.

no, not like matchbox cars and toys.  like, fake tumors and shit.  get it?  great idea, right?

so they cast some bewbz of the workers.  they had small and medium bewbz, but needed large bewbz.

you see where this is going now, right?  now, if you're offended by pictures of big girls partially clothed and fake breasts (seriously, i promish- nothing is real here) don't scroll down.




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seriously, you better be okay with this.  i'm either about to lose all of my followers or get attacked by pr0n bots.


and if you are related to me or otherwise queasy about seeing a lifelike replica of my actual breast (or my beautiful gut hanging over my jeans) then turn back now!


for the rest of you...  enjoy our feature presentation 'the making of the BEWBZ'

wife's other better half and wife mixing stuff

'instamold - for all your BEWBZ casting needs'

using an ancient flour sifter to sift the powdery crap.  my beaver was cast in the sink as well.  yes, an actual toy beaver.  sickos.

being felt up by wife and wife's other better half.  in the name of science, or something.

more fondling.  the stuff set faster than i think any of us expected.

wife's other better half copping an extra feel.  can you blame him?

the first cast! we never used that bowl again.

it was strange looking at it.  i didn't think my tatas were that cavernous.

so we did that casting in late april.  then went out to dinner.  and probably drank or something.  weeks go by, they turn into months... it turns out it's a lot harder to make bewbz than any of us thought.

but the process was fun.  it was nice to get surprise emails or picture messages on my phone with my boob in some state of being created.

april 25th - the naming of the bewbz - 'titzilla' is born!

may 3rd - the mold being created

may 3rd - the mold.  i also have a photo of my wife wearing it as a hat.... :/

july 7th, what i believe to be the first working prototype.

'working prototype' meaning 'being able to be fondled' of course.

i also have a RIDICULOUS video of my wife slapping my bewbz around.  not my real bewbz... we never tape stuff like that.  i mean titzilla.  it's pretty hysterical. *goes to watch it and laugh for a few minutes*

okay.  so a couple of weeks ago i received photos from my wife on the final bewbz, TITZILLA!!!

this is my bewbz.  it is my right bewbz.  i went with righty because she's a bit more hefty.

the shape is pretty much right on.  big bewbz sag and pull down a bit.  sorry fellas, but it's true.

i must be honest, my nipple area is not quite that pink.  but it inspired me to start rouging my nipples.

yeah, rouging nipples.  look it up, it was done.  nipples used to be considered, like, fashionable.  not anymore, sadly.

and now, for the coup de grace.  thank you for bearing with me and my BEWBZ on this exciting journey.  if you have been a long-time reader (yeah, like a few months) you may remember i got the "nice rack" award a while back.  and that semi true torystellar called me out, saying my BEWBZ pictures were not worthy.

well, here you go torystellar.  how are these??

no caption necessary, i think.

epic, just epic. thanks, wife and her company that shall remain nameless at the bequest of the owner.

you might wonder why i did it?


who gets to do something like this?  how many times in my life am i going to be asked 'hey, can we cast your boob?'  the answers are 'no one' and 'never again'.

and, hey, i'm getting more action than ever before.  there are potentially hundreds of students groping me as we speak.  how many people do you know that can say THAT?

that's right, just one: STEPH MOTHERFUCKIN' GAS!

another one?

i was about to start writing a new blog.  i gots me another award, yo.  from semi true torystellar over at can u relate?.

but then i got distracted by itunes.  i'm streaming krock 2.  if you ever lived in the new york area, you'll remember how great krock was.  until it turned into z100.  well, krock 2 online is like krock used to be, minus some of the nirvana and add some emo.  fun.

however, i got horribly distracted by 'doll parts' by hole. 

it's over now, so i can continue with my life.  my new awared from torystellar is the irresistibly sweet blog award.  i think she might have consumed copious amounts of vodka before bestowing it on me, because i am not 'irresistibly sweet'.  but i never look a blog-awarding horse in the mouth.

i'm supposed to list five guilty pleasures and pass it on to three more.  i'll pass it on first.  i shall bestow this honorable blog award to...

-stephc over at seriously??... reeeally?..... seriously? because i love her canadian ways.
-nicki at the loaded handbag because i love her photos.  even though i can't believe she'd come to florida without visiting the mouse.
-kristine who does wait in the van because she's crazy.  and sweet.  and did i mention crazy?

now.  five guilty pleasures. 

this is hard.  because i don't really have 'guilty' anything.  no remorse, no regret. and the things i do feel guilty about aren't pleasurable.

but i guess i can try.. let's see... what might i be embarrased for you all to know... er....


um....



hmmmmmmm.....

well.  i like kesha. oh, i mean ke$ha.  i like lots of pop music.  i also like gangsta rap, yo.

i love twilight.  yes, the stupid vampire books.  i really like them.  like, i own them all and have seen all the movies.  and i guess it's a bit embarrassing.  but not really.  maybe a bit.

margaritas from chili's.  i know they're not the best, but i love the presidente margaritas at chili's.  i can drink them until i fall off the stool.  and i have before.  i think.

christmas music. hell, i don't even celebrate christmas as anything more than a traditional american familial holiday.  but i love christmas music.

tootsie rolls.  the teensy ones.  i'll include them as a guilty pleasure because i can't eat less than like fourteen at a time.  which defeats the purpose of tiny like 10 calorie tootsie roll snack time.

there you have it, folks.  i'd keep writing, but i have like the flu or something and feel like absolute shite.  so have fun and until then, keep your unit on you.

new award!

that's right, i got me a shiny new award!  it's called the gold framed dog blog award and i received it from semi true torystellar at can u relate?.  remember, you can see all my (two) awards on the RESPEK KNUCKLES! page.

now, apparently i'm supposed to pass this on to five other bloggers.  and i will do so now.

i would like to bestow this honor upon my aunt motherfucking becky at mommy wants vodka.  because, OBVIOUSLY.  she completely and totally deserves it.

i also would love to give it to my sextastic blogcrush the barreness at hello, sailor!.  she is delicious and wonderful and lovely.

annah over at red means go! is always, always, always on the list for any blog award because she makes me laugh and think and cry laughing and wish i was just a bit latina most days.

tiffany writes on the verge, and honestly writes much less about diarrhea than she claims.  but is still hysterically funny.

and finally, nicki at the loaded handbag has this great mix of photos, life, humor, sarcasm, thought-provocation, and northeasterner that makes me happy in the pants. 

OMG ALL OF YOU HAVE WON THIS AMAZING BLOG AWARD!  i'll probably pester the hell out of all of you to come pick it the fuck up.

please know you deserve this adorable goggie-themed golden award.

pass it the fuck on to five other awesome blogs, please. 

ALSO.  thanks to a suggestion from reader and fellow blogger semi true torystellar, i will grow too big for my britches and give out my OWN blog award in the near future.  expect ridiculous rules and the threat of blog stalking and tormenting if you are awarded it.  it will be epic. 

epic.

ALSO ALSO.  i promish to have a new, useful, meaningful blog up and running soon.  possibly TODAY.  how productive!

down with pants!

okay, so i was catching up on my blog list today, and thanks to annah over at red means go (http://www.whenredmeansgo.com/) who posted some pantless photos today...

go ahead. i'll wait while you check them out. and follow her, to help her get famosity, or she will eat kittens.

now that i have regained your attention, her blog about being pantless in your own house (which, correct me if i'm wrong, should be a god/s given inalienable right) reminded me about the trying issue of claustrophobic thighs.

this is when you have your pants on, like at work or when you're shopping, or maybe just hanging around the house. and you realize that your thighs are claustrophobic - your pants are all tight and pants-y around your thighs. and your thighs are all agitated and irritated and angry.

like when you are stuck in line behind someone at the grocery store, in the 10 items or less line. and they have like 14 or 15 items. i mean, you can forgive 11 or 12, but they're pushing it. and not only are the in the express line with too many items, but the get all impatient and do that sighing thing that some of us do to let you know we're annoyed with someone. and then they start making comments about how the cashier is slow, or the person paying with a credit card who takes four extra seconds to sign their slip, or gets all huffy when the front end manager comes over with singles for the cashier.

and you get that feeling. it's kind of tingly and tight. like you're a spring that's being more tightly coiled. maybe it's the feeling of having your braces tightened. or really bad gas. i'm not sure. it's an agitated, anxious, angry, abomination of a feeling.

you get through it, and you go home with your less-than-10-items (i know you weren't in that lane against the unspoken rules of the supermarket). you put the groceries away, maybe feed the cat or pour a cup of soda or glass of wine. and you go to sit on the couch, and turn on the game.

and then. your thighs. if you're wearing any pants that are not really comfy and super stretchy, you notice that your jeans or trousers or whatever feel a bit.... snug across the top of your mid-thigh. strange. but then you realize that it's not just the top of your thigh - it's all the way around, like there's an invisible ace bandage being wrapped around it. so you stand up and adjust your pants, like pulling the legs up a bit to give your crotch and thighs more wiggle room. or you adjust your trouser snake addendums if you have them. or you pick the nonexistent wedgie that you think is causing the problem.

and you sit back down. and it's even worse. like if you could scratch the fabric off your thighs, you would, and you might take off a layer of skin or ten while you're at it.

this is claustrophobic thighs: when you feel like you may have to fuck something up if you can't take your pants off. so you have to take your pants off. depending on the level of claustrophobia, you may not be able to put any other pants on in lieu of the jeans or trousers you're already wearing - super stretchy may not cut it. you may need to walk around in your tee shirt and panties for the rest of the night.

and so what if the windows are open and the neighbors can see? who the fuck are they looking in your windows?!? i walk around in my underwear more than i care to admit, due mainly to thigh claustrophobia. awesome husband gives me a strange look sometimes, since the windows and patio doors are open, but i figure that my panties and a tee shirt covers more than my bathing suit does, and i wander around outside drunk in my bathing suit... so fuck that. my thighs are more important.

i just hope the claustrophobia doesn't spread further. it's bad enough i get nervous in elevators and tunnels, especially the last tunnel in the rock 'n roller coaster at disney hollywood studios (i live in almost perpetual fear of being stranded in that tunnel again. our coaster train stopped there once for like two minutes once, and i nearly lost it).

i can't imagine what i would do if i ended up with boob claustrophobia. my mom would never come out of her room again.