Elastic And The Hellacious Case Of The Heat-Rashed Rack.....

Alternately Titled:
Elastic And The Sun-Baked Boobs Of Doom

I'm usually loathe to admit this.......buuuuut, I am a woman chock-full of B.S.
Some days I'm so overflowing with B.S. that it's actually quite painful. The B.S. also seeps out onto my clothing in public which is a grossly mortifying experience.

Oh, don't you even try to sit there all smug while you self-righteously judge me and my glut of B.S. Scientifically speaking, you too have suffered from acute B.S. affliction at least once in your life. Yes, the heartbreak of Boob Sweat knows no gender or species barrier. It can adversely affect man, woman, and chicken alike. I know, because I've seen those sweaty chicken breasts under the heat lights at KFC.

Sadly, if left untreated, B.S. (Boob Sweat) will continue to progress and morph into full-blown Rack Rash. Just last week I fell victim to the most agonizing onset of Rack Rash while out working in the hellishly humid tropical clime that defines Houston during the summertime. I could scarcely breathe because the slightest chest movement triggered a new round of stinging pain and me squealing "Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow." There's no governmental discrimination protection for Rack Rash sufferers' either. All my dreams of one day waitressing at Hooter's have been dashed.

And then, just when I'd tearfully resigned myself to a life of itchy, sweaty, burning bazongas, bloggy friend Alice "If There Was A Problem, Yo I'd Solve It" Honey Pie rode to my rescue and sent me this fine product in the mail.

Skeptically, I broke my conservative nature by liberally applying a heaping helping of Anti Monkey Butt Powder straight to the stricken Ta-Ta Territory.

What happened in the next 24 hour period can only be aptly described by the cast of Fiddler On The Roof: "Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles!"

This BEFORE picture allows you to clearly observe my depiction of the epidemic boob outbreak without me showing you my actual boobs. Look at them, pity them...... it's as though someone messed up a line of Shakespeare and demanded that "a pox be upon you and your bosom!" A chicken pox.

And now here's the dramatic artistic rendition of the events that unfolded after the use of Anti Monkey Butt Powder. Do you see what I see? The proof has manifested right before your very eyes that Anti Monkey Butt Powder really does perform the stupefying feats that the label claims.....BEHOLD! Just a sprinkle a day helps keep boob sweat away......

(Don't be alarmed. Only the irritating rash vacated my mountainous premises when I used the powder. My boobs didn't really disappear.)

I've been converted to the House Of The Anti Monkey Butt True Believers. That talc powder miraculously eradicated the angry spotty-dots. It took me from Reddish Rack Rash to Calm And Collected Calamine Cleavage in less time than it takes for Fergie to choke out the words to her 'My Humps' song.

Ahhhh yes, sweet relief. Thanks to Alice and the Anti Monkey Butt Powder, my delicate alabaster boobage has been restored. I got my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps.....Now, NEW AND IMPROVED WITHOUT ANY BUMPS!

Do You Have What It Takes To Join The Ranks Of The Fat Flap Espionage Elite?

Hello, my name is Elastic and I represent the FFC (Fat Flap Central). We're currently looking to recruit some of the finest fat flappers this country has to offer.
The Flapper movement has come a long way since its inception during the swinging 1920's era. See, back then our covert operatives spirited away top secret documents and other items of interest by concealing them within specially made compartments located under each fringey tier of their flapper dress.
Times have changed though, and to keep up, we've had to modernize our stable of Flapper spies. I guess you could say that we're bringing 'FLAPPY' back. Yeah!
So ask yourself this, do you listen to your "gut instinct?" Do you have a jiggly Jell-O fat roll? Is your belly a flippy, floppy flap of flub? Would you describe your abdominal area as a prominent protruding pouch of pooch? Then YOU have all the qualifications necessary to start an exciting new lucrative career with us!
Stop laying around letting your belly collect dust, lint, small objects, stray kittens and put your flab to work for us.
We will train you how to utilize your girth into becoming the perfect smuggling tool. You'll learn the finest techniques of stealing and then securing the sensitive information underneath the confines of your own gut.
Big baby bellies.....they're not just for hanging over the waist band of your pants anymore!
We'll also instruct you how to use the specialized technology afforded to us by the Ziploc plastic bag company so you don't ruin any of the classified documents with your blubbery sweat.
I've long since retired as a field agent but let me tell you I honed my fat flap concealment skills by sneaking individually wrapped packages of cream-filled Ding Dongs out of the kitchen. If I didn't have a built-in place to hide them then I would have had to contend with my kids pouncing on me and begging, "Mom can I have some of that, pleeeaaassse?"
Sure secret agents look all glamorized in the movies but we're 100 times more efficient than any Bond girl that ever walked the planet.
Think about it, Halle Berry or Denise Richards stroll in and all eyes immediately fixate on them. Meanwhile, people can't look away fast enough from us fat flappers .
It gives us the perfect cover to infiltrate where the stunningly beautiful can't.
We may be portly but we're still patriotic and we won't put up with any double agent activity.
I remember one especially fiendish double crossing operative who tried to play us for a fool. We caught her using her secrety belly roll to secretly smuggle out the secrets to Burger King's secret sauce. She had plans to sell it to the Chinese.
We took swift action to ensure that her Fat Flap spy days were over. Our in-house plastic surgeon gleefully performed a mega-tight tummy tuck on our Commie loving ex-agent. Yeah, that'll show her!
When I read about former Clinton National Security Advisor, Sandy Berger getting busted filching important documents from the National Archives by stuffing them inside his socks, all I could do was shake my head. What an amateur Sandy Berger is. If only he could have harnessed the hiding power that his belly flap had to offer.
We here at the FFC have dispensed with the cliche expression for keeping something a secret. 'Keep It Under Your Hat' has now become 'KEEP IT UNDER YOU FLAP!' Surely, this is a motto to live by......
So if you're interested in joining the FFC team we'll have recruiters out at all nationwide Krispy Kreme locations.

Even The Neighborhood Watch People Avert Their Eyes And Blush From Embarrassment.....

Ever wonder where speed bumps come from? Wonder no more!
Oh, those randy little roads and all their naughty humping and bumping activities. Their indiscretions make the daily commute for the average motorist a bit more jarring.

Well, as me and Infidel Daughter The Second traveled through this neighborhood, we couldn't help giggling and pointing at all the road hump warnings. It's very important that people shield their kids from seeing the pavement in a possible compromising position-I completely understand that, but this was sign overkill. Every corner? Is that really necessary? Are we supposed to marvel at the road's boast of humping at 20 mph? That just seems ostentatiously braggy to me.

Naturally, when talking about things that you do naturally, it led to us singing an improvised version of The Black Eyed Peas 'My Humps.'
My Humps, My Humps
My Lovely Concrete Humps.....Check It Out.

At long last, I finally understood the deeper meaning of the 'My Humps' lyrics as each speed bump jostled me and shook around all that junk--all that junk inside my trunk.

*Infidel Daughter The Second Knows What The Word Hump Basically Means Thanks To Our Perpetually Excited Chocolate Labrador, Reagan.*