That last post about novelty boobs got me thinking. Firstly about boobs in general and their contemporary relevance to a modern renaissance man (yes, still relevant), and then subsequently about the guy who actually makes them. You know, the factory guy. What about that guy? I don't know if I'm being condescending for saying so (I usually am), but I really feel for him. I've complained ad nauseum in the past about how my job is a bit of a social stigma at times, but I think my worries pale in comparison to those faced by your average novelty naughty bits factory captain. How does he feel having to explain to people what he does?
Here's how I imagine it:
Hugo. Great name. That Hugo Weaving is simply divine. You're not an actor too by any chance are you?
Novelty Boob Guy:
Um, no. (waits for a change of subject that never comes) I umm.. I actually make fake plastic boobs.
Er, no. I actually make fake plastic boobs. Novelty ones. Like you see on that drunk guy over there who is loudly vociferating his fondness for pain.
But you know, maybe he pulls it off. Maybe his sweetness and conviction (and kickass name) are enough to render his occupation an irrelevant inconvenience to the fairer sex, and he eventually marries a lovely girl that has a penchant for exotic fauna and rollerskate parties.
Here's how I imagine their life:
Novelty Boob Guy:
Honey, it's me.
I'm really sorry honey, I know we've been planning tonight for weeks, but I'm afraid I won't be home for dinner. One of the plastic boobs got caught in the nipple renderer and the entire boob order is backed up.
I'm literally up to my ears in boobs right now.
You're the best. Oh ferchrist, we've just run out of honeysuckle pink. Gotta run babe.
You see? I can't help but get carried away with this, I really feel for the guy. I think this is the first occasion when I've considered the multinational hostile takeover of a small and struggling business a good thing. These kinds of operations need to be run by emotionless robots, not by people like Hugo.
Affirmative. I build wearable synthetic mammory organs. Your sexual advances do not compute. Warning! Warning!