Keeping you abreast of a Nevada anomaly |

Keeping you abreast of a Nevada anomaly

During the course of my life, I have traveled all across this country. I have set foot in 41 of the 50 states and lived in three times zones.

Yet after all my visits, there is one thing that I have noticed about Nevada. One particular facet ” or quirk, if you will ” that in my experience is rampant in the Silver State.

Women here like cleavage and seem especially proud of showing it off. Even women who have no business showcasing said cleavage seem OK with putting it out there.

I’ve seen half shirts, I’ve seen what I can only describe as “U” neck T-shirts and I’ve seen more bikini tops passing as shirts here than anywhere else ” and I’ve been to Southern California. I saw a lady wearing a shirt yesterday that presenters at the MTV Video Music Awards wouldn’t wear.

And I saw her at the Senior Center.

While I have not yet seen a nun in Nevada, I can only surmise that the habit they wear is tight, with a V-neck cut. I think it’s something in the water, cause it seems like everywhere I look, they are just hanging out.

If it’s not actual cleavage showing, it’s shirts so tight that I can see Victoria’s Secret(s).

For me, and I’m guessing most men, this presents a problem because now, more than usual, we don’t know where to look.

Take, for example, a work setting. I walk up to a female co-worker who is wearing a revealing shirt. I can’t stare at her breasts, because then I’m a pig ” even though she is wearing a revealing shirt and a cross necklace that dangles ever so delicately right at the cusp of the crevasse, like an arrow directing my eyes downward.

Yeah, that’s by accident. Right, and I’m actually a “doctor” like I say I am at bars.


So, chest staring is out, but I can’t look her in the eyes because I’m weak and will drift downward when the conversation loses my attention.

“Oh really, your grandfather is sick and your dog is handicapped, so sad.”

So this leaves me with only one option ” staring at the ceiling. Which coincidentally, is why there are so many chiropractors in Nevada, cause when you walk around all day with your head upturned, you are going to need regular adjustments.

“Dr. Bakcraker’s office, how may I help you? Uh-huh, oh hello Mr. Shipley. What’s that, you say you’ve been staring at the ceiling for the last three hours straight. Yes, we can fit you in this afternoon.”

Look, I know women are doing it on purpose because it gives you power over men. Here’s the kicker: Men know that too, we just don’t care because ” newsflash ” we like boobs. (It’s kind of our thing).

What made me think of this particular Nevada anomaly is that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I am a big supporter of saving breasts from cancer ” or restrictive undergarments.

You should begin seeing the “Think Pink” campaign materials appearing around town and the fundraisers are already underway.

Normally, I would not make light of such a serious fundraiser in such a light-hearted column. But after reading an e-mail advertising a pair of automated, mounted breasts to benefit breast cancer awareness, I figured I should do my part.

But, I have to tell you, this particular charitable event has traditionally made me uncomfortable.

If I go all out to help, then I feel like people (mostly women) think I’m a pervert who is engaging in some sick practical joke by raising money to support breast cancer treatments.

“Oh, I can’t believe Jarid is involved with this campaign. You did tell him he doesn’t actually get to give the breast exams right? Somebody did explain that too him, I hope.”

I mean, come on how shallow do I look? Besides, that line didn’t work at the bar so it’s got no chance on sober people.