All that ammunition . . .

. . . and no idea what to shoot. I proctored another test today, and one of the highschool girls had the most beautiful breasts - the size of grapefruits and so darn high! She was wearing a skinny little tank top, and all the guys were drooling but trying so hard to be cool. So the test started, she propped the girls up on top of the desk, and kind of slumped over, really focusing on her test book. Her tank was gaping here and binding there and the boobs were straining to get out. You could almost hear them squirming and wriggling. The poor young fellow sitting next to her nearly dislocated his eyeballs, trying to look sideways without actually turning his head and staring. I almost laughed out loud. How do male teachers survive? Especially when she clearly has no idea whatsoever of the effect. She could wear a sweatshirt and still have the guys rolling at her feet. The tank top was similar to going hunting for sparrows and using an m-16 machine gun. Wayyy too much firepower! You get older, you start to run out of ammunition, you pick your targets and improve your aim. (I still have wit, a great smile, and good bones. I'd be better off in the seniors hunting season if I could cook and play cribbage.)