A ranty, funny, dead-serious intersectional feminist blog.

Detachable Boobies

I’ve come across a couple of really irritating ads lately. Maybe you’ve seen them. I wanted to write something about them, but they’re just so ridiculous, and while I was annoyed and bothered, I was not inspired. But this morning I woke up with a song running through my head, and that old Wanda Sykes routine snuck in there, too, and I knew what I had to do. I had to dig up the lyrics to an old favorite and breathe new life into them as I have done below especially for you. Why rant when you can SING?!

Detachable Boobies
(with apologies to King Missile)

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my boobies were missing again.
This happens all the time.
They’re detachable.

[background singers repeat: “detachable boobies” (THIS IS YOUR PART!)]

Axe: “Office Love”

This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave them at home, when I think they’re gonna get me in trouble,
or I can rent them out to Madison Ave, when I don’t need them.
But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,
and the next morning I can’t for the life of me
remember what I did with them.
First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn’t find them.
So I called up the place where the party was,
they hadn’t seen them either.
I asked them to check the vegetable crisper in the fridge
’cause for some reason I leave them there sometimes
But not this time.
So I told them if they pop up to let me know.
I called a few people who were at the party,
but they were no help either.
I was starting to get desperate.
I really don’t like being without my boobies for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a boobie-haver,
and I really hate the way my clothes fit without them.
After a few hours of searching the house,
and calling everyone I could think of,
I was starting to get very depressed,
so I went to the Hurricane and ate breakfast.

8 airbags! Classy, Mercedes.

Then, as I walked down First Avenue towards Pike Place Market,
where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street,
I saw my boobies lying on a blanket
next to a penis.
Some guy was selling my boobies.
He had got them cheap off an ad exec who had a whole bunch for some reason.
I had to buy them off blanket guy. My own boobies.
I took them home, washed them off,
and put them back on. I was happy again. Complete.
People sometimes tell me I should get them permanently attached,
but I don’t know.
Even though sometimes it’s a pain in the ass,
I like having detachable boobies.

[background singers repeat “detachable boobies” and fade out]

7 responses

  1. Pingback: Show Her It’s a Man’s World | A Clown On Fire

  2. Pingback: The United States of Misogyny « Make Me a Sammich

  3. But thank goodness for detachable boobies! Without them, we wouldn’t have drag queens! Also, think of all the A cups that want to appear as C cups without having to resort to padding!

    October 20, 2012 at 7:18 pm

    • HA! Great points! :)

      October 20, 2012 at 7:24 pm

  4. This reminds me of a friend who was a cocktail waitress here in Vegas. She had detachable boobie’s and realized when she got home she had lost one on her shift. Imagining the person’s face who picked it up still makes us laugh.

    August 27, 2012 at 9:16 pm

  5. Seb

    I hardly know what to say…

    August 25, 2012 at 8:04 pm

    • I know I’ve done my job when Seb is speechless. ;)

      August 27, 2012 at 7:58 pm

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