Today is Saturday, February 19th, and my deadline, which was last night, has come and gone. I haven't even started the column, so clearly it has not been handed in yet. Therefore, I expect to be getting some needling reminders from my editor.

I haven't a clue as to how my column will be constructed. But this time, the column will not be like the first 21 editions of Mai Pehn Rai. I have usually discussed big-breasted models, or adventures with big-breasted lovers, or places I have been to, wherein a plethora of big-breasted females made it their business to intrude or push their way into my life. I have written about women with absolutely incredibly huge tits who continually find it necessary to either ask me for directions on the subway, or shampoo my hair, or bake and shake for me, or simply walk into my line of vision. There is no end to it. And it happens day after day after day. But we will not be writing about such events this month.

This coIumn won't recap a typical day at a video store, where all they have is row after row, one shelf after another, filled with box cover after box cover of large breasted women, all too eager to show off. I promise not to describe how busty women show up in the theater and suddenly appear in my binoculars, thereby distracting me from enjoying a Broadway show. I refuse to write about my attempts to flee from these wanton exhibitionists to The Metropolitan Museum, hoping to find sanctuary, finding instead that the finest museum in New York has endless numbers of statues and paintings where bosoms are bared.

And wouldn't you know it, there is no place on the planet to run to avoid these creatures. Don't expect to read about the Paris Metro, when a monstrously busty woman in a low cut sweater just had to sit next to me and make conversation! Or when, in the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower, I was forced to stand in close contact with a heavy-chested German tourist who winked at me each time she brushed against me. Mind you, I didn't mind these events as they occurred. It is only that I have trouble forgetting them. Or keeping them out of my column. So forget it... it won't happen this month.

In Hong Kong, when all I wanted was a cold drink, my booth became a gathering place for cleavages on display. This month, I will keep those details to myself. Nor will I fill you in about Singapore's Little India section on Serangoon Road, where my eyes continually noticed calendars in every shop, each of them in the Mughal Miniature style of painting. Each calendar had either bared bosoms or breasts thrusting visibly against straining see-through bodices. None of that will become a detailed topic. Nor will the Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple, a 'must see item' for every tourist who comes to Singapore, its sixty-six foot tower filled with pastel colored god and goddess statues in a variety of embraces that leave little to the imagination about the goddesses' shapes.

So you see, I have been writing my column not only to please you readers with lurid details, but also as a way of letting go of the stress caused by all of the endless baring of bosoms. However, this month, I think I shall put my foot down and simply write about another topic. There will be no further mention of huge breasts, or enormous tits in this column. No, this month we will be not be mentioning Busty Dusty, or Traci Topps, or even Toppsy Curvy. You all must be tired of reading about gazombas, knockers, sweater-meat, chest fruit, and other nicknames for a female's upper chest in every column I write.

For example, I once wrote about a day in Bangkok, on the Chao Phraya River Express Boat. I swear the ticket collector undid two additional buttons on her blouse just before asking me for my ticket. And once, on a double-decker bus in London, traveling on Oxford Street toward Marble Arch, the lady conductor asked me to follow her to the rear of the bus right after she said, "Tickets Please." These and other similar events will not be reported this month.

There are innumerable descriptive variations that have been employed in my previous columns over the last year, which shall not see the light of day in this column. For those of you who need help to recall some of them:

	Enormous Round Breasts Mammoth Mounds Luscious Tits Jumbo Juggs Huge Hooters Big Boobs

Had enough? The list is endless, but fortunately, I was able to pare it down to a manageably-sized number, and I now display it only as a visual example of where we have been. We will not be revisiting those terms in this column. Not this month!

Nor will we allow the expressions listed below to find their way into this column, except to serve as an example of what we will not be writing about.

	Straining with desire, her bodice heaved passionately.

...or...

	Bursting with fullness, her lush, big-nippled breasts pressed against my chest.

...or this most devilish bit of word play...

	My hands reached forward to hold the super-large breasts encased in the biggest lace-cupped brassiere I had ever seen or touched.

Readers, there will be no shortness of breath as your excitement rises while reading my words. It won't happen, not this month. You will not find yourself staring passionately at some mammothly huge-titted babe whose breasts are so big that they dominate this page. No, you will not find it here this month. And you have my word that this column will not be subject to angry complaints from jaded readers who are just plain tired of this columnist's endless obsession with breasts. I really think this column has been overly breast conscious, and corrective measures need to be taken. Don't you agree?

I can easily walk through the streets of New York and simply turn off my ability to see through any woman's clothing to determine the shape of her figure, any time I want to. I don't have to notice shapely and busty checkout girls in the supermarket. I don't have to stroll through the foundation garments section of Bloomingdale's or Macy's, repeatedly glancing at my watch as if I were waiting for my wife to show up. And I certainly can get by without visiting Flashdancer's to check out Chelsea Charms.

I think I have plenty of self-control, and I will be able to take command, and for sure, we won't belabor you readers with another breast-centric column. But enough about me. Let's do something for you readers.

By now you should know what my game plan for this month's column of Mai Pehn Rai was. If it was breasts that you hoped to read about, you will have to look over the rest of this issue of BEhavior. Sorry dear readers,you won't find that topic here. NOT THIS MONTH!

Hopefully, my editor will not find it necessary to insert some obligatory shameful picture of an awesomely huge, naked pair of breasts. My intentions to write a breast-free column would be for naught . Oh, look at the time. I must send this out immediately! Please return here next month when our regular Mai Pehn Rai column resumes.

JustMeMike