IT'S NIPPLE TUESDAY
It seems you can't turn around today without being poked in the eye by a celebrity nipple. Beyonce's breast broke free from it's Victorian restraints and blessed the audience of Radio City Musical Hall with a nipple on Sunday night. I'd like to know how long it took before she realized it had flopped out, or if she was able to stuff it back in that corset without anyone noticing.
Mother of God, I'm tired. This kind of hard-hitting journalism just takes the starch right out of me! I'd compare to being an embedded journalist reporting from Iraq, but celebrity boobies don't usually go around beheading the people they've kidnapped or blowing things up. So it's probably not the same, really, now that I think about it.
Maybe I'm more like that guy who used to write for the New York Times and got busted for making shit up. That sounds about right. I have the same sort of journalistic integrity he did, and we shared a similar devotion to "uncovering truth," no matter the cost. Come to think of it, we used to huff model airplane glue together on the weekends. And he's been living on my couch for the past four months. What about nipples? Is it Thursday? Where are my pants?
All this thinking makes my head hurt.