good old days

i've mentioned karel, oh i don't know, only about a million and a half times. suffice it to say, she's one of my best friends, and of all my currently practicing bfs, the one i've had the longest. we met freshmen year (she hated me, a story itself), were acquaintances through sophomore year and didn't become close until junior year and REALLY close until i studied abroad and we would talk online. all. the. time. which is largely how we keep in touch now. honestly, i feel like my day is some how not a real day unless i've spent hours complaining with her.

in any case, we were chatting last night and i randomly remembered one lazy afternoon from senior year. enjoy its retelling. and a warning: if you don't want to hear me talk about bras, leave now and come back tomorrow.

so, senior year. the year in which i asked out multiple sophomores to have them reject me- 'o6, oh sucks. yeah, good times. karel and i were probably complaining about boys (we keep up traditions) and discussing how bad they were at taking off bras. slow and clumsy. and wouldn't let us assist. because if there is anyone who is good at taking off a bra, it is a woman, right? we do it at least once a day. they should take our help.

so we decided to see how hard it was for guys to actually take bras off. we got pillows. and bras. and practiced. and to be fair, it was harder from a guy's angle. i could still do it one hand but it was more difficult than me taking off my own. we sat on her twin bed, snapping bras off pillows, laughing our asses off because we were better than guys at removing women's undergarments.

and i just tried it again. seriously, so easy. i mean, i guess nerves can come into play but guys, do yourselves a favor, get a hold of a bra, and practice on a pillow. a suave bra removal is a thing of beauty.