STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS [Trailer Review]: Lightsabers are like Perfect…

Breasts.

They are awesome to look at, and we really want to play with them.

Lightsabers are the reason young boys fall in love with Star Wars, and why older men are still in love with Star Wars.

When a teenage boy gets his first glimpse of a breast, he is hooked from that moment. All he can think of is seeing more, lots more, and hoping and praying he gets a chance to hold one in his hand and play with it. He is jealous of any of his friends who get to touch one (or two) before he does.

Finally he gets his first girlfriend, “Hope”. She has perfect breasts, but not only that, she is also perfect from head to toe. He falls completely head over heels in love, spending as much time with her as possible. If he could, he would see her every single day. She eventually goes away, but then girlfriend #2 strikes. She too has perfect breasts, and believe it or not she is even better than the first girlfriend, because not only does she have perfect breasts, but he gets to see a lot more of them, and she is also fun, smart, exciting, and perfectly put together. They form a deep and meaningful relationship, and enjoy each other’s company night after night and day after day.

Unfortunately she, too, eventually goes away. Then girlfriend #3 returns. Guess what? That’s right, perfect breasts again, though this one has some flaws (some of his friends would say she is to “cutesy”) but he overlooks that, why? Lots of perfect breasts. Duh. After a long and love filled relationship, sadly she too must go away, off to college– or some shit like that.

Time passes, we experience a bit of a dry spell and long for the chance to see some perfect breasts again. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so by the time we get a glimpse of perfect breasts on menacing girlfriend #4, we are so overjoyed we can’t even think straight. We dive straight in, paying no attention to the warning signs; because we can’t see past those perfect breasts, which are not just perfect breasts, but Doubles and absolutely mesmerizing.

It’s not too long after experiencing this that we come out of our breast induced coma and realize that the perfect pair of breasts was attached to something ugly and stupid. Chalk that one up to a bad decision and a one night stand. We are so sad and disappointed we need a stroll down memory lane, so we dig through our photo album looking for pictures of our first three girlfriends to remind us how perfect breasts should look, only to be horrified at the discovery that all the old pictures are ruined, and the realization that those perfect breasts are lost to us forever.

Girlfriend #5 attacks and there they are again, those perfect breasts that we just can’t help but be enticed by. Though, this time we are a little gun shy from the pain of the last deception. We decide to numb our thinking brain with enough liquor to help us focus just on the breasts and not look at what they are attached to. Once properly medicated, we rush head first into those perfect breasts, only to wake up in the morning in a coyote ugly situation, where we say “what have I done?” and then proceed to chew our arm off to get away from the thing that is even uglier and stupider then the last one.

You would think by this point we would have learned our lesson, but no. Here comes revenge of girlfriend #6, with those same mesmerizing perfect breasts. We tell ourselves “I have to do it just one more time. This will be the last one. I can’t stop now, I’ve come too far already.” So we liquor up even more then last time, add in some pills for good measure, and take one last leap unto the breach. Of course we regret it 2 seconds after it’s over. This time those perfect breasts were attached to something so hideous it might have been a dude. But we survived.

Scarred for life, but at least it’s over.

We tell ourselves that the last 3 don’t count because we were drunk, and it was only the one time, and pray one day that our old girlfriends, who we loved all our heart, will eventually post an old picture of themselves on the internet so we can get back our memories of the good old times.

But as you all know by now, it’s not over. Time marches on. We forget the pain, and as soon as we do, here they come again. We recently got a glimpse of some perfect breasts again, this time with a Hilt. The crowd goes wild (even though there is really nothing there); boys and men of all ages are creaming in their pants. But I have matured. I have learned there is more to life than perfect breasts. I want, no, I deserve the whole package. I cannot continue to be this shallow. I cannot survive on breasts alone. This new girl must be smart, and beautiful, clever and funny — not too funny — as well as having perfect breasts. I call for men of all ages to demand more from our awakening girlfriend #7. I will NOT be tricked again!

Ah, who am I kidding? I’ll see you all next December at the midnight showing with whisky on my breath and a tear in my eye.