One of the things that is more fun than talking about boobies is listening to women talk about boobies. Last week, Jezebel held a poll looking for the preferred term, and boobs won (don’t boobs always win, really?)
I’m also happy the jubblies made the list, though chesticles just sounds wrong. And angry sack of rabbits? Really?
But I may start using the term Bristols. Just sayin.
So last night Aarti, the Aarti Paarti blogger, won Next Food Network Star. I have to put a disclaimer
here, I’ve always had a thing for Indian girls, much more than Asian girls (eat that, nerds!) Even though she grew up in Dubai, she gives off a sort of California girl vibe. She used to be a producer at CNN before going to culinary school and enjoys belly dancing (and who doesn’t like that?) I’m looking forward to her show and hope that it will cut down on all those damn contest shows! I’d watch Food Network more if it wasn’t for all of them (I get the munchies a lot…)
Did I mention she has Juggs?
If there’s anything worse than poisoned jubblies, I don’t know what they are. Boobs are a terrible thing to waste. And that’s why someone has finally invented the bra gas mask. If World War Tres ever comes about, it’s comforting to know that at least there whilst be titties left for the survivors, because, what gives you more hope in life than tits? As a fat, unloved, socially awkward teen, I know tits are the only thing that made life worth living. I guess that’s why I always go for big ones (can tits be too big? yes, they can. Even comical, but that’s another post.)
Oh wait. The gas mask part of this isn’t for the tits. It’s for people. Tits aren’t people? Apparently this is a bra that converts into two gas masks, one for the jubbly host, and one for her companion. I think I liked my idea better.
Garment device convertible to one or more facemasks – Patent 7255627.
And this is how men should look at women. If I wasn’t so poor, I could actually buy the picture and post it for you. But if I had money, you’d probably be reading a classy, art inspired monologue on beauty, instead of a pervert’s random typings while drooling over a killer rack. We both lose, I guess. And the guy who’s jaw is about to fall off is her fiance. He’s seen those fleshy wonderpuppies unleashed (well, I assume he has,) and still reacts that way.
I can’t imagine that this was actually made for women. I suspect it was made for men and to draw attention to the company. And I say BRAVO!
Do women really want to see a pair of jubblies bouncing all over the place? I know I do, but, wouldn’t you already know how your knockers roll? I don’t care, actually, I’m gonna go look at the G cup.
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