[NSFW] Stress Chest

It’s amazing how the yard sales have gotten so much more R-rated since I moved to northern California. Sure, there was that one sale in Connecticut that had just mountains and mountains of porn; but beyond that you don’t usually see anyone’s naked bits, unless someone’s bending over to look at old train sets and you can tell very obviously that they forgot to wear a belt.

Next up, in “Mom, Don’t Read This” Week! …Well, we don’t see butts. We see something other than butts. (For the record, this one’s also appropriate for “Why, Just Why?” Week.)

FIVE BOXES OF VIDEOGAMES!!

“Don’t worry, I won’t get anything too bulky—I know we’re moving in a month.” — me, this morning, like an idiot.

For My Bosom Friends

Well, I gave it my breast shot, but I wasn’t able to find too much at the yardsales this morning. I gotta say, it left me feeling a bit meloncholy, and for a while there I was teatering on the brink—like I was going to go all Twin Peaks on them, whipping out a pair of bazookas and just laying waste to all the boobs running today’s sales. (…Although, I guess if I had done that, it would’ve really caused some hootering and hollering.)

That said, the whole thing wasn’t a bust—I’m sure my mammary would be proud of this find:

50 cents for that mousepad? Man, what a racket.