I Would Burn It, But It May Take The City With It

Unlike our favorite Killer is apt to do, I'm not going to discuss my genitalia as even the WORD genitalia makes me blush and giggle. But I will discuss this contraption know as a BRA. Over the shoulder boulder holder. Flopper stopper. 18 hours of torture.

Here is my bra, unleashed on the city:

As you can see, my bra is the answer to the global warming issue. Who needs ozone when Liz has a Bali we can use for protection?

We at Killer Rants love boobs. Killer like boobs to look at and think about touching but I like boobs for better reasons. I can store all sorts of shit inside my bra. Back in my college days, boobs as a storage receptacle made me the hit of any concert. I could sneak anything past security by putting it in my brazier. Anything. I once smuggled a friend into the movie Batman by placing him inside my bra. Granted, he was short, but still.

I don't like carrying things around in my bra except in an emergency. It might amaze you to know how many emergencies there are that actually do require boob storage. I got a pint of Wild Turkey into a baseball game by positioning the bottle just right. Of course, I simply could have used my purse, but where is the challenge in that?

I would make a great terrorist as the amount of under wire used in my bra always sets off the metal detector at the airport. They don't hassle me too much. They see what I'm packing and know that it takes a great amount of raw materials to construct the contraption to hold these girls up. Not sure if I'm exaggerating? Ponder this: Without my bra I would eventually have to get knee surgery from all of the pounding.

Last year I decided I would start playing golf. I quickly learned I have a major handicap, as swinging a club to full extension is nearly impossible. As I was complaining about my titties getting in the way of my swing, the custodian at work offered to hold them for me. That's not the kind of support I'm looking for.

Before you start thinking that I'm happy or proud, consider the multiple downsides of enormity. There is no body part that it better huge. Wait. Let me rephrase that. Women with HUGE knockers, like speciality bra-wearing, back hurting knockers, usually end up working in the school lunch line or elementary library. There is something matronly, not sexy, about 18 pounds of breasts. In no time, you start to look more like a National Geographic picture than a Playboy Playmate. This is why I avoid large hoop earrings and sarongs. I don't want any misconceptions. Plus, I always look like I'm nursing a litter of children.

I sometimes encounter men who stare at my breasts. I would find this offensive, but I can't be offended because I understand. I don't think it's staring in a lustful way, I think it's like staring at a one-legged dog- you are mildly repulsed, yet fascinated. My 23 year old cousin walked into the house and saw my bra hanging on a door knob. He kept looking at it, like he was trying to figure out what it was. My brother was over and said, "You've never seen one like that have you?" and, with a look of terror and confusion, he simply shook his head "no", never blinking or taking his eyes off the brazier. Or, if he weren't my cousin I would say, "never taking his eyes off the prize."

I like to think of myself as a free spirit. But it's hard to be free when you have spandex and metal surrounding your chest. I would burn it, but it may take the city with it.