Finally I have more than five minutes to get my sorry ass posting again. Captain Sexy Pants is most likely peeing himself with excitement. So I bought this bra the other day - no this is not the intro to a joke and sorry boys, I know the previous line has instantly bored some of your wee sophomoric minds but the lives of the Maxim women are facetious and this is real life; however, as I was saying, this rudimentary torture device feels like a black spandex gun holster. By the end of the day, not only do my shoulders feel like I've been packing around a couple of AK-47s, but every time I put it on or take if off I feel like some gangster or cop or some facsimile thereof. Fucked up!

Being a reasonable feminist, I've decided the only logical result is, of course, to rename my breasts Glock and Beretta. I considered Remington and Winchester but the previous sounds too much like that lame-ass razor company and the latter reminds me of some uptight, British shire name. So much for my 'shelf' - from now on I too can mimic the all-to-blatant penile compensatory line "welcome to the gun show"...followed by my bodily preening of my breastesses- except for the obvious - I do not have a penis nor any desire to ever have one. However, those of you reading this post are all witnesses to the historic event of the Renaming of the Breasts (I swear it will be an olympic event someday).

Back to the bra though, I mean come on, bras were invented how many hundreds of years ago??? Why does the action of finding a comfortable bra cease to exist even after all of these years? More importantly, why are there so many lame ass words for breasts? Boobs, melons, jugs, tits, etc. there is such a lack of imagination in the naming of these fatty, mammary gland filled skin sacks (appealing isn't it). Ludicrous projections of sexuality run rampant when one considers the breast; yet, considering their numerous abilities, they should have a mysteriously powerful name whose mystery is only succeeded by its power. Just a thought. Me and my funbags are now going to contemplate the ancient, existential dilemma – what is a breast, really?