Boobquake

I made the mistake of talking to a reporter for the New York Post yesterday when he stopped me because I was wearing a "revealing top". It wasn't. But I suppose when you are searching for boobs in Chelsea, the gayest neighborhood in New York and possibly the world, my little guys in a v-cut shirt will do. Anyway, this guy stops me, asks me about my thoughts on Boobquake to which I replied that I supported it in theory, but was not actively trying to partake. He then went on to get my "political" take on the matter and I of course replied that the theory that exposing one's cleavage leads to earthquakes is absolutely preposterous and something to the effect of "why are we even having this ridiculous conversation?" So then Newsdude goes on to print the story(click here BOOBQUAKE!!! )which I am praying shows my deep sarcasm although it sort of reads as though I am serious.

The real catastrophe here is that my crazy husband now posits that we are going to be attacked by Muslim extremists and that we must have a gun in our apartment also. Yes, to protect us from the Muslim extremists. Even he had a hard time saying that with a straight face and when I gave him the similar look of doubt that I gave to the Newsdude, he wiped the smile off and said, seriously though, they could find you very easily using the Internet in order to seek revenge. I married a lunatic.

See? I told you I had small ones