The Tit, The Handyman and The Goodguys©

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For those who have been around a while you might remember the story of the Cell phone, the Psychic and the Garden. And then the one about the Police Station, the Locksmith, his finger and the Vodka, and then of course the uterus we thought might have been abandoned on a woolies trolley, and then my official status as a split pussinality following lunch in VERY tight jeans.

Well now we have The Tit, The Handyman and The Goodguys.

Many years ago, a group of friends and I supported one of our friends who sold It’s a Pleasure lingerie, and as a result of our support of her part time business, most of us have tons of It’s a Pleasure lingerie. Today for some reason, I picked one of those bras as I was in a hurry getting dressed, and everything was fine and up where it belonged albeit that the bra was slightly loose.

I even went to the local police station to have something Commissioner of Oath-ed, and apart from the policeman behind the desk looking very perplexed as he looked at my ID – he was holding the ID book UPSIDE DOWN but I kept my mouth firmly shut – anyway, everything was fine. Really busy morning, and running around and doing lots of things, and then Fred, the Yugoslav handyman arrived to fix something for me.

And wouldn’t you know – in spite of everything remaining firmly in place the whole morning from 7.30, and throughout the time Fred and Jo (his helper) were working at my house – after we got to my mom’s so they could sort out something there as well, didn’t the right t*t decide to fall out the bra while I was standing with Fred the Yugoslav Handyman. So I stood there and thought okay, fine, it’s a white t-shirt which is not good BUT the bra wasn’t doing such a great job of holding up both mammaries, so hopefully the difference between the cupped boob and the uncupped one wouldn’t be too noticeable.

So I walked inside, but of course Jo, Fred’s smelly helper, was on a ladder slap bang in the middle of the passage so I couldn’t get to either of the bathrooms or any of the bedrooms to make adjustments.

So I went outside, onto the patio and I thought right, why don’t I try to do that clever thing that woman had done in Flash Dance when she pulled her bra through the sleeve of her jersey and the boyfriend sitting opposite her thought it was great. But then I figured that one of two things would happen in this particular flash dance scenario: Either I would get the straps muddled with my arms and wouldn’t be fast enough and would end up with half a bra sticking out of my t-shirt sleeve, which would be difficult to ignore and very embarrassing to explain. Or if I succeeded and got to offending garment off my body, and allowed Nature, Gravity and the good work of my plastic surgeon take care of the rest, just as I did that, Fred would walk out onto the patio and instead of using his tape measure to measure whatever he was measuring, he might use a different measuring piece of equipment called Yugoslav Dick which is quite different to a Stanley Knife, I understand.

And I really didn’t have the time or the inclination or the sense of humour to now start taming that beast on top of everything else. I think he would have a big beast because he’s a big guy and he has big hands, and I had just been doing battle with the pool’s creepy crauly as well, so one beast and one rebel tit was enough.

So I left things as they were and kind of kept my right arm kinda folded across my chest trying to look like it’s the most natural pose for Greeks with two arms and one hanging tit and one suspended one.

So I waved Fred off, and got into my car, and everything was intact. And I decided to fit in one more thing before going home, so I nipped into Sandton City and headed for Good Guys where I hoped to find Dino, the dish, who told me that my pluggy socket whatever splitter thing was ready for collection. He wasn’t in the shop when I got there, but all the others were – Bruno, Dennis, the other (big fat heavy oke) and the female, plus all the others.

All was well as I walked into the shop and right to the back with Dennis in the vain hope of finding the pluggy socket whatever splitter thing. But we didn’t find it, so I said I would have a coffee and I’d be back. As I left the shop, along came Dino, the dish, and together we walked back to the shop so he could give me the pluggy socket splitter whatever.

And now, there are four of them behind the counter, seated, i.e eyes level with any short person’s upper torso. And as Dino hands me the pluggy socket splitter thing, doesn’t my right tit decide to venture out again. Yes it does.

And this time I thought, oh flip because unlike when I flashed Fred who is over 6 foot and can more comfortably see the top of my head, rather than use his eyes as a leveller for other body parts, I had 8 eyes that could be used as a leveller plus Dino babe might or might not have noticed.

I did the arm across chest thing and felt marginally like a spastic trying to hold the flippin’ splitter, cover the drooped t*t, and hope it didn’t show through the thin white t-shirt. And of course, Dino did want to explain things to me very carefully and with great precision didn’t he.

My only hope is that this pluggy socket splitter thing does work and that I won’t have to show my face, or any other parts of my anatomy, in the shop for at least another five years. My plastic surgeon did a great job many years ago but when one boob is aided by a bra, and one isn’t, even a blind man could see that.

I have now thrown out the offending bra.

28 November 2005
BP

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