As I was driving down Mill Avenue yesterday morning, I came upon a sea of pink-shirted individuals with catchy phrases written across their chestical area:
SAVE THE TATAS!
I KNEAD MY KNOCKERS!
When did this happen? When did it become socially acceptable to refer to your cantaloupes as anything other than breasts? I'm at odds as to whether I think it's a very creative way to peak interest in the safety of my num nums, or a dumbed down solution to raise money in the name of milk jug research. All I know is that badoinkie cancer is serious business.