To a chick who couldn't have been any older than 22, waiting with her friends to shove their way from a densely packed subway platform on 42nd Street and Times Square, into an even more densely packed car on the Bronx-bound 1 train at 6:28pm this evening.
Nice tits.
No, really. I mean that. Those were some mighty fine jugs.
I'm assuming that's what you were going for with the fully unzipped winter coat and the thin, swoop-neck t-shirt (most likely purchased from American Apparel) that showcased your cleavage to anyone with functioning eyes, right? On a day where the wind chill had the temperature at 20 degrees below zero, on a subway platform with a world-renowned reputation for being anywhere between ten to twenty degrees worse than whatever the situation is outside. Yes? No?
Surely that was your intent, wasn't it? So who would I be to allow your day to be completely in vain? So yeah - that was one bangin' rack you were showcasing, right there - with your arms akimbo, making certain your knee-length winter coat with the faux-fur trim stayed open for everyone to see. I doubt anybody even noticed the sweatpants. Why, as I descended the steps from a connecting R train from 6th Avenue and was blessed with the full sight of all your breastified glory, I was half-inclined to take out a pen, hold it overhead, and let it drop just to see if it would hold fast right between the twins.
I decided against it at the last second, though. Mainly because I like my pens. Please don't take it personally, it's not meant as a knock on your tits.
And I don't doubt for a second that you're very proud of them, either, as well you should be. Considering the slightly crooked teeth, the greasy, lifeless hair and the dark circles under the eyes and the undoubted burning hatred you might have towards your father...well hey, gotta hang onto those things that'll keep people noticing you.
So again, to a chick who couldn't have been any older than 22, waiting with her friends to shove their way from a densely packed subway platform on 42nd Street and Times Square, into an even more densely packed car on the Bronx-bound 1 train at 6:28pm this evening...and I say this without any alterior motive save to pass along a heartfelt compliment...rockin' boobies. Kudos.
Now zip up, for Chrissake. It's freezing.