For whatever reason, having an exceptionally mature woman’s breasts draped across my arm makes me indescribably, and unexplainably, sleepy. I have no idea why this phenomenon occurs, but it happened all of the time in high school. Mrs. Kendall would bend over to check my work and I’d fall into a catatonic state. Somewhere, between the hum of the complex’s air-conditioning, the smell of lavender perfume that older women seem to always wear and the fluffy mounds resting on me was total peace of mind. It’s like I’m that bear in all of those fabric softener commercials. All you want to do is shut your eyes and fall back into a pile of the happiest dreams. In a fraction of a second, you’re given a lifetime of knowledge that you are safe and nothing can ever hurt you.
Now, I should clarify that I’m not some sort of pervert that goes around looking for sketchy breast opportunities. In fact, I had completely forgot just how sleepy a billowy chest can make me until I had a close encounter a few days ago. I was rattling off sixty words a second when a senior woman reached across me as I typed. Contact. I could probably make the argument that I was lightly sexually harassed, but there was really nothing sexual about it. The mammary glands hit me in the shoulder and the world flickered and dimmed. It probably has more to do with some basal instinct from infancy than anything. I couldn’t tell you if she excused herself for reaching or asked if it was alright or if there was an air horn going off inches from my face. I immediately began to slip away as if I were laying on a million heating ducts simultaneously. She moved back for a moment and I was provided a few moments of clarity in which to try and dodge the second approach, but I failed. I don’t know if any of you have been drugged for a serious operation, but this is the closet thing I could relate it to. It could have lasted a couple of seconds or several hours but, when she left, I wandered around in a comfortable haze. It was as if the volume had been turned down on the entire universe. The ground felt softer under my feet and all stress had dissipated. My new reality was sublime and I was content to quietly drift through it in a gentle confusion.
I told a few friends about it and only one really understood. The rest just laughed at the story and marveled at my peculiarity. I couldn’t blame them. There are things about all of us that, frankly, don’t seem natural. For instance, I eat gum. If it’s the right flavor and I’m in the right mood, I can probably go through a whole pack in just a few minutes. I have had people actually beg me not to do it and then act like I had committed some horrific crime against nature after I did it anyway, but it’s who I am. I’m a gum eater and I’m not ashamed.
You Monsters Are People. 
Eating gum FOREVER.
Agreed.
Also forever.
Well, that’s gotta be one of the most interesting ‘opening sentences’ I’ve ever read. :)
It was a doozie, wasn’t it?
I do the gum thing except I don’t swallow it, I just chew piece after piece until I have this big chewy gob. It’s awesome. And a little gross.
A little?
Whatever, I have no room to talk.
Hahahaha, you’re so weird! :D
Great post. Breasts are god’s gift to men. Like Seinfeld said, “If I had breasts, I’d just stay home and play with them all day.” I totally understand why you eat gum. After about 3 seconds, the taste is gone, so you have to spit it out. But eating it is a good option, especially if you want a tree to grow in your stomach. But I don’t know what kind of tree.
A gum tree.
Everyone knows that.
When you fart do you blow a bubble?
ewe
Not yet.
How BIZARRE. I experience the exact same thing when an exceptionally mature man’s penis drapes along my arm. Or touches my shoulder.
;)
HAHA! This comment made my day.
I don’t think that’d make me sleepy.
Then again, there is only one way to find out.
I have to say, I am with your friends that think this is strange. I accept you for you strangeness though. It’s why I read your blog.
David Lynch practices transcendental meditation. Perhaps boobs are your mantra.
I’m not really into meditation.
Be proud gum eater!
For me, it’s getting a haircut; it’s so soothing and relaxing I could just go into a state of blissful sleep. But I have never told a hairdresser that, for fear of being branded a pre-vert.
Another great post, Mr. P.
And Mikalee, I am speechless–hilarious comment. Like Posky, this happens routinely in an office setting?
Agreed. Getting a haircut is more relaxing and nice than getting a massage. What accounts for that?
No, it almost never happens, which is why I forgot all about it until the other day.
Wow!It’s true!It’s true!at least for me it was.The whole,older woman breast thing.I had this teacher that would sometimes stop by my desk while watching a documentary at school.The lights would be out and from out of nowhere this soft voice of a women would blow into my ear, asking,”what are you drawing there?”then she would come closer and say “watch the doc.”Now you might think that just those few words would mean nothing,right!Well,when her breasts would slide down my arm, I would feel pins and needles throughout my body,but,in a soothing,microcosmic,slideshow,of nurturing seconds.”hot -for-teacher”if you will.I also get that feeling while getting a hair cut like fellow blogger there”trailertrashdeluxe.”All I can say is great work Posky!I feel sleepy and safe now.Potato gone…………………………
It’s good to know that there are other freaks out there.
It’s not really that uncommon. I am sure there is a psychological term for this.
As for eating gum, it takes seven years to digest. I don’t have that much time to wait, so I don’t eat gum more than once a week.
That seems like solid math.
I actually read an article recently about how a kid had to have surgery for eating a lot of gum in a couple of weeks time. Looks like I should cut back.
I chew gum and always seem to swallow it, but not realise until I can feel it going halfway down my throat… :( And the boob thing, it hasn’t happened to me in quite a while but I totally get it too! I remember from school that warm, comforting feeling so well! It must be something to do with childhood memories, probably something to do with our mothers leaning over our cots when we were young or something!
Do you make the illustration yourself? Its awesome.
I sure do.
I am glad someone else feels having breasts thrust upon them is sexual harassment. Don’t sell yourself short, she wanted you. REAL. BAD.