today's crass moment brought to you by...

The Missing One, who is technically not quite missing, i.e., she's living at home. She's still The Missing One, because between working late, and living the Late Night Vida Loca (public admission from me: not as late as she'd like as she is trying to be considerate of the whole family dynamic thingie) but still late for me.

Well, hell, anything past 7:30 pm is late for me....

I digress--we were discussing crass comments. Those of you easily offended, or too curious to back away, here's the story, unedited: we tend to call breasts around here, well, breasts. Not boobies, not ya-yas, and certainly not that other word that interestingly enough offends the eldest to the point of anger. Strange issues, but I'm digressing again.

Anyway, vocabulary now being established, we can move to the scenario this evening. Those of you who know the three women in this household may have delicately, if discretely noticed that we are not wanting in the breast area. Oh sure, delightful when the ladies are young, but I...sorry...I do seem to go off on tangents today....

Anyway, back to the story at hand. Being an affectionate family, we do tend to hug an awful lot. The physics of the situation require a bit of forethought in order to execute a hug that actually resembles a hug, instead of one of those awkward "kindof" hugs, and as a result the middle one and I have taken to calling a position, top or bottom, for the placement of ...well, I think you get the picture. What can I say? It entertains us, and serves a practical purpose after all.

Today, as the tallest went to hug the shortest, I heard from afar that there was no need to call it.

"I have the Alpha-breasts. I'm always on top."

You can't say I didn't warn you.