Unable to come up with clever title. But it's about my Boobs.

So today would have been another day at the Dragon's Lair, but I just couldn't take it. Sorry to disappoint, especially after I'd billed my library gig (and the mayhem which I predict will ensue) as blogfodder - my gift to you.

But you know I wouldn't let my BMB Bitches down.

Today, kids, I woke up with a nasty sore throat. My uvula's fine, though, thanks for asking. So I went to the kitchen to brew myself some peppermint tea, and there were so many dishes in the sink I couldn't get to the faucet. How can I be the only one in the house imparted with the basic intelligence and manual dexterity necessary to unload and reload a dishwasher? Ugh. Pisses me off.

Although they suck pretty much equally (and again, I'm the only one who knows where the laundry room is) I decided I'd rather do laundry than dishes. In order to make room for the stuff in the washer I had to take stuff out of the dryer. And out of the dryer fell... one of my favorite lipsticks. A $16 one from Aveda. Seashell. I wept.

I loved how long it lasted once I put it on. I loved how it smelled. I don't even know why I had it in my pocket in the first place because it doesn't really require much touching-up. The loss of the actual lipstick (while it's certainly replacable, it's an inconvenience) is a tragedy in itself.

But apparently, I'd left it in the pocket of my jeans, and it got washed, and dried. And it was everywhere. All over everything. My new J. Jill sweater, my NASCAR shirt - the HORROR.

Tearfully, I went upstairs to find something to spray on the hopeless lipstick stains. And the only thing I could find in the cabinet under the sink full of dishes was Oxy Carpet Cleaner. It's supposed to get red wine out. Couldn't hurt, I figured. The shit's totalled as it is.

And get this - Pie sees me holding the bottle and he says,

"Oh, is that for the spot where Tito threw up on the floor upstairs?"

Ummm... what???

Tito was sick Sunday night. And while I knew that he'd thrown up in the bathroom, I didn't know there was a 2-day-old spot of barf on the floor. Apparently I was really stressed out Monday morning (took Rip to the airport so he could go to Mexico for two weeks) and nobody wanted to piss me off.

Ok, I know I get pissed about stupid stuff sometimes, but I understand that little kids can't always control their spew. Of course I wouldn't have been pissed. I'd grumble, sure. I hate barf. But I wouldn't be mad at the kid. Unless they wait TWO FULL DAYS to tell me about a stain.

In fact, let me go on record with this - if you have something to tell me that's gonna piss me off and I'm already pissed off, please don't wait for me to not be pissed off and then send me back into pissed off mode with whatever drama you're about to drop on me. I'd so much rather have one full day of HELLA fuckin fire-breathing pissed and be done with it than two consecutive days of kinda pissed. I'm just sayin'.

So the best part of the story? The tower of dishes, the lipstick, and the barf stain all went down within about 20 minutes of my waking up with a sore throat. Yeah, I'm thinking The Dragon's gonna have to get by without me today.

The day got better quickly, though, when I scored me some Ben Folds tickets. WOO HOO!!! There was no way in Hell I was missing that show. And y'all know I don't give up easily, unless it's a knitting project.

And there's one more thing I want to talk about.
Well, two, actually.

My boobs.

If you don't want to hear me discuss the topic of my boobs, just click out now; I won't be offended. I know it's not like me to reveal personal things about myself (HAHAHAHAHA!!!), but just in case you weren't aware, I'm a busty gal. I'm a DD. Perhaps you've seen me flashing them under a highway sign.

I may or may not have ranted on here before about the pathetic lack of selection among DD bras. Generally, my color choices are white or beige (and Kev, I can't say the word beige without looking up at my ceiling), and maaaaaybe black or pink. And they have straps about three inches wide with six hooks in back. So unsexy. I need a sexy home for my Girls.

I'm also really picky about my bras so my choices are even more limited. I hate the ones with seams in the cups that look lumpy or itchy lace, which leaves few choices available other than the stretchy cotton variety. I love the cotton bras because when I'm wearing a tight t-shirt (and honestly, when am I not?), the balls on my curved barbells are visible and I think it's fun to watch people awkwardly try not to stare at them.

Forget the economy, forget the Federal *click*, I don't care about any of that shit - Nipple Alignment is a priority in my life. There's nothing unsexier than Cockeyed Headlights. That might be my band name, KK. Or is Nips Askew better?

The thing about cotton bras, though, is that they get gross after a while - pilly and dingy and ratty looking. So I told R that I wanted a complete overhaul of my bra wardrobe. So R, God love him, took me to Cacique on Sunday.

Up to this point in my life, I had never ever even considered wearing a bra with molded cups. I just thought it was weird how if you throw a molded-cup bra on the floor in a passionate moment, it'll lay there looking exactly like it did when your boobs were actually in it. And I didn't think my hooters needed any help. But there was this really cute polka dot plunge one that I thought would look smashing if I were wearing something low-cut (and honestly, when am I not?), so I tried it.

HOLY SHIT. That bra looked fucking fantastic, both on its own and under my clothes. My boobs were pert and perfect and they filled out my sweater fabulously. Of course, the downside is that my nipple rings don't show through, but hey, maybe having them hidden might make it more fun to surprise someone with them.

Suddenly I had excellent posture. I even think having perkier boobs actually made my waist look smaller. I'll see if I can talk R into taking before and after photos for y'all's edification.

I bought five molded cup bras. Bought the polka dots, a navy one, a black one, a white one and a beige one. And the panties to match. I do like to match. Dropped about $150, after all was said and done. WORTH EVERY DIME.

I simply can not get enough of my own magnificent boobs. I totally look like I got a boob job. I feel like a completely different person. I keep checking out my rack in every mirror or reflective surface I pass. My seat belt rests differently. They look so hot! I have absofuckinlutely incredible breasts. A woman at the grocery store caught me cupping them. Seriously, I can't keep my hands off of them. They're so cute I just wanna squish 'em!!! I even feel myself up when nobody's looking.

I can't even describe how fuckin awesome my titties are. I lay on my sofa and my boobs stay straight up, right where they were! I don't even want to take my bra off at night. My boobs look AMAZING, you guys. I can't even say it enough times.
Rip, care to testify? :)

I can't believe it. I can't get over it.
I am in love with my own fun bags.