Pizza boobs

 My boobs get me sex, but that’s about it.

Last night I was sitting on my couch eating bacon wrapped hot dogs, jalapeno potato chips and drinking Molson Canadian. It wasn’t a healthy meal, but it was a tasty meal. About halfway through dinner I received a message from my friend, The Muse.
Apparently, she stopped on the way home to pick up a pizza. She innocently leaned on the counter and was making polite conversation with the 20-year-old kid working the register.
I guess he liked what he saw, because when it came time to ring her up, it was half what it should have been. Nice. She was excited and thought she would share the experience with me.
That started me thinking–which can be dangerous. What would my life be like if I had pizza boobs? You know what I mean–boobs that get you discounted pizza and other cool shit.
I’ll be honest with you and say this isn’t the first time I’ve had that thought. I guarantee you that at some point in his life, every guy has thought about it. Several times.
The Kings Fan is one of my closest friends. He and I have known each other since before Drama Queen was conceived. He was in the hospital waiting room the night she was born and he was my goalie for a few championship soccer teams.
He’s as good as it gets when it comes to friends. Except for that one night he led us into a gay bar in Tijuana. We had a lot of good times together. I remember sitting in his garage one night, getting absolutely F’d up. We were laughing at all kinds of stupid shit and all of a sudden he blurts out, “If I had titties, I’d be a big titted porn star.”
As you can well imagine, the conversation regressed from there. I asked him why a big titted porn star? I mean, the answer seemed obvious to me, but I wanted to see if he could come up with the correct reasoning. He then began to tell me that if a girl is hot and she likes to have sex a lot, a career in the adult industry can be lucrative and rewarding.
First, you get to have sex with men and with hot women. It’s a small community that performs in these films and they are all tested regularly, so the chance of contracting HIV is lower. Plus. you get paid a lot of money. He had a few other good points, but it mainly came down to sex and money.
We discussed the various fringe benefits one could get as a woman with big breasts. We listed a few immediately–free drinks, getting out of tickets, getting preferred treatment or services. I don’t know how long we talked about it that night, but we did it again another night a few months later. Oddly enough, in his garage once again. Hmmmm…
Today’s blog post was to be about something entirely different, but once I heard a large rack can get you 50% off your next pizza, I started contemplating this subject again. This time I got some help from some friends on Twitter.
I told them I was looking for things they’ve gotten discounted or for free because of their cleavage. I got a lot of responses. Free drinks was the most popular. One said she got the large pour, premium drinks but was only charged for well drinks.
Another chick said “If you let them touch ‘em, it’s easy to get free stuff.” Uh… Cool. The strangest one came from someone who said she got discounted rent on an apartment she never moved into.
A friend of mine told me she was wearing a tank top and arrived at a toll booth, only to find out she had no money. She flashed the guy and he let her go. I’m sure that’s happened more than once to the average toll collector.
The daughter of one of my closest friends texted me with her reply. She told me that she used to get free t-shirts and stickers at concerts along with the obligatory free drinks for showing your cleavage. She also told me that she once flashed her old boss and the next day she got a raise, to the tune of $1.50 per hour.
The opposite of the free drink comes from another friend who texted me back saying she bartended when she was younger. She would lean over the sink in her low cut shirt while she pumped glasses over the brush.
She said she made “hundreds of dollars a night”. Considering I know her personally and can attest to the, uh, “quality” of the cleavage; I would consider that to be a fair statement.
I found out you don’t need big boobs to get free shit. One woman said she has small boobs, but got her back tattoo done for free because she took off her shirt to have it done.
There were two that really stood out and I want to share them with you. Consider it a gift from me to you. The first one comes from my friend Elle.

Hey Benjamin,

So here’s my cleavage story:

About 2 years ago I was rushing to work and took a shortcut thru some back streets. The streets curves at a pretty weird angle and there is a park right on the side. Right as I was running a stop sign at about 35 mph I spotted a police car parked to the left of me. I knew I was going to get pulled over and I could NOT get another ticket since I had gotten 2 in the last 6 months. I had to think fast so I immediately pulled in the parking and unbuttoned an extra button on top and hiked my skirt up just a bit. I popped the hood of my car & got out just as he was pulling up next to me. He asked me what the problem was. I launched into a drawn out story about “this really scary noise” that my car made and how I was just so anxious to get to work so I could call a mechanic. The whole time I am telling the story I am pretending to look in the hood while bending over just so. I was in a nice blouse, a tight skirt and 5 inch heels. It didn’t take me long to see that he was clearly enjoying the view.

I know that he did not believe a word of what I was saying but he certainly wasn’t making any effort to really question me either. After a few more minutes of back and forth chit chat, he offered to escort me to work to make sure I arrived safely. He followed me all the way to work and even told my boss to make sure I had someone check my car out! My boss totally knew I was BS’ing but he went along with it and then proceeded to give me shit about it for years!

That is so cool. It just proves the point that a nice rack can get a lot of shit handled for you. If you let it. My final story comes from a Twitter friend, who shall remain nameless.

I have always been a fan of pornography. I’m not talking rabid fan that goes to conventions, but rather the type that enjoys movies and goes to strip clubs. I started going to strip clubs with full nudity with my then, fiancé. I was a fan of Barbara Dare because a lot of her female scenes were quite a bit more realistic. I discovered she was going to be performing at Deja Vu in Lansing, Michigan and didn’t have to convince my fiancé to come with me.

The bonus back in the early 1990s was women weren’t charged admission. The rationale, I was told, was to encourage girlfriends or wives to see and feel comfortable in the atmosphere. Also, I think it was to enhance couple’s fantasies so they would return in the future. In my case, the latter was true.

I made sure to wear my fuchsia silk blouse with a black lace bra underneath. My lips stained in red lipstick with a tiny bit of gloss. I wanted to make sure she saw my breasts so I added a tiny touch of body glitter down my cleavage. I left a hint of perfume on my neck without overpowering all of the other dancers that would be there.

Knowing where I was going made me slightly aroused and my cheeks blushed. My heart was racing by the time I hit the club. The atmosphere just oozed sex. The pounding bass of the music, the darkened room, and the beautiful women never failed to make my heart skip a beat. It didn’t hurt that I was exploring my sexuality at the time.

As I settled on a table near the stage, we ordered drinks, and it became apparent that Barbara Dare wasn’t going to give anything away for free. She had t-shirts, posters, magazines, and VHS movies (it was the 90s). If you tipped big, or bought lap dances from strippers, you might be able to get a poster. I was bound and determined to get something as I was the only woman out there, and it was no secret that she preferred women in real life.

By the time Barbara’s second set came around, I had one dancer that seemed very fond of me. Every time I tried to tip her, she wouldn’t take it. She managed to flirt , sit on my lap, and shove her breasts in my face every chance that she got, which drove me sexually insane. With my adrenalin racing, I hastily came up with a plan. As Barbara started to get ready to throw out a t-shirt for free, I unbuttoned my shirt just below my bra, went up to the edge of the stage, and and screamed her name. At that very moment, I felt like a dumb ass, because I knew they could throw me out. I probably looked like a creepy fan, and it didn’t occur to me, that any of the other men sitting around the stage could have copped a feel.

She motioned to me to get closer as one of the men next to me yelled, “Take the bra off!” With my heart pounding, my chest flush red, she leaned over, ran her hand over my breast, smiled, and handed me a t-shirt. I froze. It seemed like it took forever, but the whistles and cheers from the other men around me snapped me back to reality. I hurriedly closed my shirt and returned to my seat, with a high five from my fiancé.

As I buttoned my shirt back up, my favorite dancer came over and said I could meet Barbara personally. She would come get me when it was time. Before I could say no, my fiancé told me I should go.

After Barbara Dare’s last set, she had a VIP meet-and-greet, which I was lucky enough to be a part of. I was shocked at how tiny she was! I got the t-shirt signed, a hug, and it was the last time I used my tits to get something for free. But, it’s a memory, I’ll never forget. (wink)

My blogging friend Melisa sent me a link to a post she did for Weasel Momma. I remember reading it when it happened and it’s way too long to fit in here, but I’m throwing THE LINK to you. Check it out when you’re done here.
I want to hear from you. Use the comment section below and share your stories. Ladies–what have your boobs ever scored you? Dudes–if you had cans, what would you use them for?
Before I go, here’s one of the funniest DM’s I got back on the subject. It came from from friend Kris of Pretty All True. I loved it because it was brutally honest and I appreciated her lack of shame in telling me this:

Seriously?  My boobs get me sex, but that’s about it.

 

P.S. In the midst of the original conversation of the discounted pizza, I asked The Muse what the hell she was wearing to make the kid give her half off. She sent me the picture at the top of the post. “That’s all pizza boy saw,” she texted. She then followed it up with, “Maybe that can be your blog pic. Ha ha ha ha!!!” OK. It is.