Tits up.

Notes on the most incredible breasts I’ve seen since the summer of 2005. (Billabong store in Shrewsbury, NJ)

She walked up to me and asked me what shirt size I was. So, of course, I mistakenly stared at her tan, bulging breasts.

She was wearing this skin tight green dress kind of thing, which allowed me for the span of about 0.5 seconds, to see 75% of her tits, minus nipple.

In the remaining 0.001 second I had to communicate with her, I noticed she was at the most, 22 years old.

If that. Not going there.

OK. Deal with it. She approached me. As a sales person. With painted eyes and highlighted hair and taunting me with her lack of tan lines. (Personally, I love tan lines.)

She ended up selling me two shirts I didn’t need and a keychain without a price tag. She almost got me for a wet suit, then she recognized me. No wet suit for you, concussion, NYC channel TV, writer boy!

Why the key chain? Because it was in the glass jewelry case at the register and required her to bend down, over and reach.

If boners were related to Homemade Security levels, I was at level purple.

These babies were tan, full and defying fucking gravity.

The dude working with her was one of the luckiest boys on the planet and didn’t even know it. He just wanted to talk boards with me. Either he thinks all girls are like that or he’s castrated.

(Plus another two sets on the subway this morning. I think I’m in heat.

Set #1: Girl in black skirt suit, blonde hair. Sits next to me on the train. Keeps brushing my ribcage while turning pages in her book. I brush hers back. Then loose my nerve when I see the height of the heels she’s wearing.

Set #2: Girl in backless summer dress. Hair tied up, ringulets cascading down the soft, perfumed nape of her neck. She’s sitting, I’m standing in front of her. We make eye contact about 500 times.

The 1 train stopped in kind of a sudden way, so she humped my leg with her crotch as we hit the brakes. I was thinking of someone else. If I was facing the other way, I think we'd be legally married in 19 states right now. And expecting a first born next spring.

Long neck, tan shoulders, no tan lines. Brunette. We exited together with a lasting smile at the Houston St. Station.)

If there are any female readers out there, I can see why you might be off put by this entry. But it’s not like I wanted to have sex with her, or touch her, even. I was just amazed. I guess it was a long winter. T is gorgeous, but we didn’t exactly connect immediately in the sex appeal kind of deal. March is not my best month. My mind was elsewhere. I was self-conscious of my self-consciousness.

It used to be that all my best connections were made in March. Now it’s deep in the summer heat. That’s what shore living does to one.

That’s why July’s motives are hazy.