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Tossing Pebbles in the Stream

This blog is my place to sit and toss pebbles into the stream. The stream of Life relentlessly passing before us. We can affect it little. For the most part I just watch it passing and follow the flow. Occasionally, I need to comment on its passing, tossing a pebble at it to enjoy the ripple affect upon Life's surface.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Oscar Aftermath


It seems that there is a great delight in dragging out the Academy Awards' presentation of Oscars with a fascination with any number of peripheral issues. This year, with next to no impromptu political statements, or social gaffes or outrageous humour (although there seemed to be a running gag around George Clooney), it only left the usual items: the best dresses and the best dressed women (not the same thing).

When I saw the item for the contest for the best cleavage, Oscars Breast Dressed (terrible pun),I could not resist. I had to check it out.

Here is my confession: I am a décolletage man. I just can't help myself. I secretly admire well formed and mysterious cleavage. Unfortunately, at the Oscars the cleavage is not all that mysterious. In fact, a lot of it is "in your face".

This secret fascination of mine was first (although it dates back to my preteen days and the Eaton's catalogue) revealed a short while back when an English blogging friend, who shall go nameless, Tracey, wrote that there were lovely birds in her back yard which included a couple of Great Tits.


Did I mention I also love double entendre humour and the above remark is doubly double entendre as "British speak" refers to young women as "birds" as well as God's wee creatures that have feathers and fly. I could not resist, I quickly sent her a picture of a young Lebanese protester , I had long admired, who showed wonderful cleavage with the comment, "I know what your mean by great tits but this is what I mean. Well, my secret was out and the ongoing joke was on. I was now know as the décolletage man within a small circle, which has just gotten larger with this posting.

You can make up your mind for yourself and even vote by turning to the web site on the Best Cleavage at the Oscars. Even knowing a lot of the tricks for supporting the "lovelies" for best and improved cleavage, it is always a wonder that every thing stays in place and doesn't pop out, particularly after a few drinks. With ram rod posture and careful movement the gals seem to manage to hold everything together during the presentations at the Academy Awards. One does wonder what happens at the after parties. I shall never know.


















And the winner is. . . . . Christina Hendricks!

I must be getting old as I have not even heard of the top three contestants in the best cleavage category; Christina Hendricks, Katy Perry and Stacey Dash. I must get out to the movies more.

I did manage to look up an interview with Ms. Hendrick and she seemed interesting and delightful, someone who would be nice to know for her other qualities, but if I was faced with her generous cleavage I would begin to stutter and be unable to make a coherent sentence.


















Apparently, Ms. Hendricks represents a new standard in beauty. Thin, thin, thin is no longer in.
Sort of a return to the Marilyn Munroe beauty standard. In any case, in this magazine cover she does wonders for the lovely bustier, or is it the other way around.

Here is a funny interview on the Jimmy Kimmel show that addresses the cleavage issue. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJE09Cd-jI4

Just in case, you think that my obsession if for big busted women, let me say that is not the case.
Size does not matter! It is how one carries and displays oneself that counts. Great undergarments help too. With enough pushing and shaping a mountain can be made out of a mole hill to display truly lovely décolletage, in this man's opinion. I have no illusion that it is all illusion. For course, it is best enjoyed when it is accidentally revealed or surreptitiously spotted
in an unguarded moment. Cleavage boldly revealed can make one very uncomfortable although I always admire women that have the self confidence to do so in public.

With a little research I learned that the French standard of a woman's breast is fairly modest.
And, aren't the French the experts in this and other matter of love? Their standard is the champagne glass. No not the tall pointy one but the older type, Le Champagne Coupe, they often use at weddings. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champagne_stemware#Champagne_coupe






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This older model of the champagne glass is thought to be modeled after some famous French woman's breast. Take your pick Madame Pompadour, Marie Antoinette, Josephine de Beauharnais or the French exchange student you know years ago.

I am sure you have all seen at one time or another the champagne fountain made out of Champagne Coupe glasses. It is impressive but I would rather hold an individual glass of champagne admiring the graceful shape and thinking of a delightful French woman, while savouring the bubble and smell of the champagne nectar, of course all the time keeping my hot little hands off it. Is this not also the way of admiring wonderful décolletage.












5 Comments:

At 1:19 PM, Blogger Anvilcloud said...

Spring is in the air, but you definitely need a cold shower. ;)

 
At 4:45 PM, Blogger Ginnie said...

Who would ever think that you'd be so interested in "The Breast in Show"? Still waters do run deep ... and will be cold, too, if AC's advice is taken !

 
At 11:24 PM, Blogger KGMom said...

Well, here I thought you watched the Oscars because of a deep interest in the movies!
Ah me.
Very funny.
I did notice quite a lot of flesh--whatever happened to "leaving something to the imagination?"

I must say there are times when I think--given all the exposed flesh on TV--that no wonder some of the more religiously strict countries think America depraved.

 
At 12:33 PM, Blogger PipeTobacco said...

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PipeTobacco
http://frumpyprofessor.blogspot.com

 
At 3:47 AM, Blogger Murr Brewster said...

Ah, well. Decades ago I had some pretty bodacious decolletage going on, but now, as Joan Rivers says, I need to wear open-toed sandals to show it off.

 

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