too many jokes…(or in which Kerry talks about boobs and vajayjays)

Y'all, seriously.  I doubt other people experience this feeling when you hear something, often in the news, and feel as if your brain will explode from all the jokes you could make about it.  Doesn't happen to you?  Happens to me all the time.  Usually when this happens I press my lips together as tight as possible so I don't say anything, because if I do, I will have to ask the question "did I say that outloud?"  This would be a question I am quite familiar with. 

Things like this have been coming up all week.  Maybe it's due to my better mood, I'm not sure, but stuff is some kind of funny.  Yesterday I simply could not contain myself when I read that Chastity Bono was becoming a man.  Now, this is not a religious or political commentary — it makes no difference to me whether someone wants to be a man, woman, or Michael Jackson.  But when I read about Chastity, I had a hundred things pop in my head  — Cher standing in her wig closet wondering who she would leave all her wigs to now.  And all the sailors (that I know she took home with her and hang out by her pool) from the "If I Could Turn Back Time" video — who will she leave them to?  And hypothetically, if there were Chastity male impersonators, like the legions of Cher ones, what will they do now? 

Then I read this morning that when her boobs are removed, legally she can change her sex to male on documents.  This is just wrong people.  I mean, hell, I've spent four days at the pool this week and have seen more manboobs than anyone should ever have to see.  If boobs are what make a person a woman, then holy wonderbra, somebody needs to tell these dudes to sign up!  And this is me saying this!  I have ta-tas that could put an eye out if I'm not wearing a sports bra on the treadmill, so I know a thing or two about boobs.  These dudes need to get to the Bra Genie STAT!  There are children in the pool area!  For the love of Double Ds, no one needs to see your hairy manboobs.  Is there nothing worse than hairy manboobs?  At least wax those puppies, or good grief, get some Just For Men's Manboobs and dye that gray stuff so you don't look like Grover's freakin' muppet Mammaw.

The other news item that got me this week is what is being called the Designer Vajayjay.  People, if I may be so bold, wtf?  At first I thought the article was going to be about the Betty dye, but oh no — it was about getting a nip and tuck Down There.  Oh yeah, you can march right into the plastic surgeon's office and tell them you want a magic vajayjay and they will hook you up.  By the way — Magic Vajayjay is going to be the name of my new band that I just made up.  My backup singers will be the Ovarians and my horn section will be called the Totally FAB-loppian Tubes.   Don't tell anyone until I get the t-shirt designs done, I want to keep it on the down low.  Back to the Magic Vajayjay — seems women these days aren't content to have the one they were born with, no, they want everything all nice and shiny Down There.  These women said it was ugly and wanted a Labioplasty.  Now seriously, are you looking all up in there with a damn mirror, going "you know what would make this prettier?  If this here were more symmetrical."  Unless you're in the adult film industry, there are only a couple of people who see your vajayjay and maybe you should focus your attention on something that's, oh, I don't know — IN SIGHT.  I'm not even going to mention the other sugery, 'cause damn. 

I think people are just making up things to have nipped and tucked.  We live in a sick society that wants everything all nice and shiny with their Magic Vajayjays, while I have to look at Chester's hairy manboobs over there.  That reminds me, I need to make my yearly doctor appointment with Dr. B.  and I better call my hairstylist for an appointment while I'm at it.