You know me well enough by now that this breast conversation will not surprise you

"Another glass?"

"Sure!"

"More wine?"

"Yes, please!"

...all evening long.

And the level of inanity of conversation escalated in proportion to the increase in blood alcohol content. So late in the evening, when two of my friends were about to leave, I asked if they could take me home.

And then (as if there was ever any doubt) I clarified. "I mean, home to my house. I'm not proposing a threesome."

And the guy rolled his eyes and said, "I'm actually going to sleep. So if you two want to have a threesome, be sure to take notes."

My female friend said, "Huh, maybe I should go home with Lisa. I bet if I ask she'll show me her breasts."

Obligingly, I nodded. "Oh, certainly."

And then we pointed to another friend of ours and said "Actually, you know, she has perfect breasts."

"Yes, totally perfect! Look how nice they look!"

Now, this woman, who does have perfect breasts, is not one of these women who flaunts them. Or talks about them, for that matter. I think she was half flattered and half mortified. She backed away giggling. Nervously.

We had a group of (hopefully) equally inebriated friends watching this conversation with great amusement. One of them looked me up and down and said, "But yours look like they're fine."

I waved him away very matter-of-factly. "Oh, mine are absolutely fine, but really, hers are perfect."

"Actually, yeah. I hope it doesn't hurt your feelings, Lis. I'd definitely choose to have her breasts over yours."

"No, not at all! I would too! I can't blame you!"

Because this needed to be a conversation? Anywhere?