weater meat" is an excellent phrase. Taken literally, it's nonsensical. Sweaters don't have meat, nor are they fashioned from meat products. Taken figuratively, it's brilliant. It conveys a boatload of meaning. And when I say boatload, I mean a boat loaded with large-breasted women wearing sweaters. Something about the word "meat" communicates an exacting vision of rounded flesh. Combined with "sweater" it's a sweet, sweet marriage of boob perfection.
Of course, the age old question is, can a small-breasted woman be considered to have sweater meat? I mean, if she's wearing a sweater, and you can see she has small breasts, does that count as "meat"? I think we can put that debate to rest. No, you must have big jugs to qualify for sweater meat. Otherwise, what's the point of using the term? If everyone has it, then it's not special and signifies nothing unusual. Right?
One of the other great conundrums surrounding this controversial issue is, do nipples play a factor when it comes to sweater meat? I mean, is your sweater meat better than the next girl's if your nipples protrude more than hers? Do constantly erect nipples score bonus points over soft nipples? No, I don't think so. I think sweater meat is strictly about the size and shape of the breasts. If you look down and can't see your feet, you've got sweater meat (unless that's your stomach in the way, in which case, eewwwww! You need to diet! Or else you're pregnant.).
"Wonder twins," "blouse bunnies," "flesh fillets," and a hundred other terms. None of them sound quite so poetic as "sweater meat." Classy, aint I?
I find it constructive to meet with like-minded individuals to discuss the virtues of women's breasts. It's best to do this in the most politically incorrect way possible. As in, "did you see the woman giving a speech about homeless children? She had terrific knockers!" Or, "I just met my new boss. Her jugs were huge!"
And as we learned from Fight Club
, every club needs rules.
The first rule of Boob Club is, you do not talk about Boob Club.
The second rule of Boob Club is, you DO NOT TALK ABOUT Boob Club!
Third rule of Boob Club, if someone yells stop, goes limp, or taps out, Boob Club is over.
Fourth rule, one guy to a pair of boobs.
Fifth rule, discuss one pair of boobs at a time.
Six, always wear shirts, shoes, and pants.
Seven, discussion about boobs will go on as long as it has to.
The final, and eighth rule of Boob Club is, if it's your first time at Boob Club, you HAVE to talk about boobs.
You know, I've noticed a lot more people at Boob Club lately, and that means some of you have been breaking the first two rules of Boob Club!
The main hazard of sweater meat is its tendency to distract nearby men. Ever walk into a store, spy a chick with big guns and then forget why you're in the store? Ever been in a meeting where you spend most of your time trying not to stare at the rack of that other company's representative? Yeah, me neither. I never get distracted like that. It's a game, isn't it? Men pretend not to notice the watermelons under her shirt, and she pretends not to notice the men who are sneaking peeks at her chest. It'd be easier for everyone involved if she would just flop them out on the boardroom table for all to see and get it over with. Then the meeting could continue as scheduled.
You're wondering what the point of all this is. No point. Sometimes a guy just wants to mull things over. Get his thoughts in order and prioritize the things in his life. Got a problem with that? Next person who questions my motives gets a crouching ninja front sweep to the knee.