From the Green Room: Busted

The French believe the perfect woman’s breast should fit into a champagne glass.  Anmericans, however, prefer they should fill a punchbowl.  At least until recently.

Heidi Montag recently showed off her new, surgically enhanced, triple-D rack poolside at Aria in Las Vegas. I suppose that was as good a venue as any for their premiere, if only for the fact that their buoyancy qualities aid in swimming.  She has stated that she would actually like to have them enlarged to an “H” cup size.  Why a woman would want to carry around a pair of bazookas the size of the Elephant Man’s head is beyond anybody’s reasonable assumption. At least John Merrick believed his noggin was so large because it was “full of dreams.”  Heidi’s continental shelf is full of saline. 

Kate Hudson’s implants, on the other hand, would barely fill a hand.  She, too, should have debuted her new puppies poolside, seeing as how much she continues to resemble a diving board.  Subtlety should not be one of the benefits of a boob job.  I know that if I were ever to go for penis enhancement surgery, I would want the results to be noticeable.  What’s the point of going through all that trouble if people can’t tell the difference between the ‘Before’ and ‘After’?  Surely, there’s a much simpler way to procure a Vicodin prescription.

There’s no doubt, going smaller is the new trend. The Itty Bitty Committee now reigns supreme.  In fact, some celebrities have even opted to have their fun bag augmentations removed; Jenny McCarthy, for example, virtually destroying any chance for her to shoot a “Got Milk” ad. 

Sharon Osbourne has stated that she is having her bust line reduced, and plans on giving the freshly removed sweater enhancers to her husband, Ozzy.  Which single-handedly answers the question, “What do you give an ancient, confused, drug-addled, ex-rocker for Fathers Day?”  Boob Bookends. 

Hooters.  Who knew they could be such a handful?