Fresh squeezed

Good news! I’ve been wearing the correct bra size! This I found out from the Victoria’s Secret salesgirl who felt me up, er, measured me today. I didn’t ask to be measured; she just sort of held up her tape measure and gave me a “can I, please?” look. So, I gave the okay. What I didn’t realize was how much feeling there would be! For some reason, she had to count the inches on the tape by moving her hand along my boob. This in view of a leering (I don't think I've ever actually used that word!), sort of dirty-looking man, who I’m sure just entered the store to watch this hot girl-on-girl action. But, mission accomplished. I ended up buying something that’ll work for me despite my long-standing belief that V.C. is for girls who want boobs, not those who already have them.

Prior to that lunchtime date, er, errand, I’d been working on something about heart attacks. Did you know that one of the symptoms of heart attack is “a sense of impending doom”?? (Don’t even think of it, N.’s already reserved the name for his band!) How odd. I’ve been having heart attacks all this time without even knowing it!

Best thing I watched on TV last night: Oh, man, if you’re not watching Arrested Development, you’re really missing out. That show about kills me every week (without the impending sense of doom)!

Worst thing about TV last night: I didn’t get all my Sunday-night viewing in, so I’m cutting this short to watch The L Word. (It’s a been a lesbian sort of day.)