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HOT BOOBIE ACTION 2003-03-14 | 7:56 p.m. I hate having boobs. They’re too cumbersome. I try to wear shirts with stripes and I look like whale. Yuck. I’m all bloated and have pendulous, swollen mammary glands. They don’t please my eyes or my back. Why can’t I just have a nice little B cup? That would be great. I’m getting a breast reduction. Funny thing is I got these boob genes from my dad. Why not moms boobs. Hers are the perfect size minus the sagging from multiple children sucking on them for nourishment. Maybe this is my punishment for ruining my mothers’ breasts. Another thing I dislike about boobies on my chest is the unwanted attention I receive. I know I sound like every other woman complaining about sexual harassment but seriously, at work when people order drinks from me they will often just stare unabashedly and longingly at chest. Chest no likey. Chest want to punch boob lookers in the nose. Come to think of it I don’t like people looking at any part of me including my face. Why don’t they just mind their own business? All eyes forward and directed away from me please. Thank you very much. Before I take my leave of you for the evening I want to say a little about France. I love France. I love French fries. I love French kissing. I love French pop music. I love berets. I love men with large noses and black/white-striped shirts who ride bikes and carry French bread and flowers in the basket. I love French wine and French food. I love my friend Sara who lives in France. Basically I want to give a big wet kiss to all things French and if whitelipstik doesn’t make her dress dedicated to the resistance I vow to do it myself.
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