Rodents are the new yoga.

Yesterday Christine mentioned that as an alternative to having a yappyass purse dog (one of my life's goals) (because I have such lofty ambitions, shutup) I could take a page out of the crazy book and run around with a ferret in my bra. Ha! You think that's crazy!

Months and months and months ago, when Jennifer and I took Ethel The Cat to the vet, we noticed the very hot blonde receptionist had a third boob. And the boob was... maybe moving.

I found this very interesting. A trick third boob. Was this a new dating thing I would have to learn? Was it silicone gone wrong? Was it a heart murmer?

Oh. Right! It's just the usual ... A BABY POSSUM IN YOUR BRA.

Cute girl had painted its toenails pink and was carrying it around in her bra all day. I'm pretty much convinced that only a hot chick could pull that off ... I'm just saying.

Fast forward to last week, when Jen is taking me and Roy to yet another $500 visit to Sherman Oaks Vet (Hello, sirs. We would like our wing of your clinic named "Sobakowa and The Minions.") And while we were waiting (again) in the lobby, Cute Girl pulled this out of her... OK. Not her bra. I guess she gave up the third boob in favor of a cat carrier. I support that decision. BECAUSE WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT THING.

While I like this Cute Girl receptionist very much, I think I will stick with my plans to one day carry around a little Minou-like puppy in a silly purse.

My bra is all full up. Thank you for stopping by.