Let’s talk about sex.

More specifically, let’s talk about Christina Aguilera’s boobs.

Let’s just say there’s nothing “D flat” about her as a singer.

They are HUGE. I have been tuning in to NBC’s new television show “The Voice” for the past couple of weeks, where singers compete to be a part of a famous artist’s coaching team amongst judges Cee Lo Green, Adam Levine (yum), Christina Aguilera, and Blake Shelton who I don’t care about because I am as interested in country music as I am in the Dow Jones. If you’ve seen the show, you’ve probably noticed that Christina is a little more….well…Miss Piggy-ish. The girl has packed on some pounds. She’s thick. Her jugs, however, are where a large amount of this new weight has gone.

Her bra? Her bra is absolutely bursting with boobs. It’s like a watermelon stand at the farmer’s market. I can’t look away. Her ta-ta’s are the size of medicine balls. They’re like giant jack-o-lanterns. They’re spilling forth like Niagra Falls, if Niagra Falls were made of knockers instead of billions of gallons of water. Babies everywhere are drooling uncontrollably at the site of these udders. Those are homogenized, pasteurized, Vitamin double-D jugs. I get so locked into her cleavage that I forget what I’m watching and find my mouth agape. Aren’t celebrities all about charity? Send some of those lady lumps my way, Christina. There’s plenty of room in my bra.

Does Bruce Jenner think his face looks okay? It doesn’t. Bruce Jenner’s face looks like it is covered in stretched slices of deli meat. He has a mask of brown sugar baked ham. Bruce, you don’t even look Botoxed anymore, you look like a burn victim. You look like Leatherface from Chainsaw Massacre.

This man’s face looks like my grandmother’s, but with a teeny tiny nose. It won’t be long before his nose disappears entirely. Is anyone going to tell him? Should I send him a Tweet? Is it one of those things where it’s like, Aunt Rosie keeps wearing that disgusting red lipstick that gets on her dentures every single day, but everyone just decides to let her be? It sucks that the rest of his family is so sexy. It makes the contrast a little more than subtle.

I wish my laptop battery lasted longer than a 15 year old teenager in the back of a Camaro behind some stadium bleachers. If I unplug it from its power cord, it withers away quicker than a fetus in its 2nd trimester that severed its umbilical cord. It runs out of juice faster than Juice Stop on a 115 degree August afternoon in Scottsdale, Arizona. It’s useless.

Today on my way home, I drove past two boys no older than 15 walking down the sidewalk with cigarettes in their hands.  I was baffled. Do kids really still think that smoking makes them look cool? I feel that this should really be a fad of the past. As an underage teenager, I skipped the cigarettes and went straight for the Smirnoff Ices, like any sane person would do. Nothing about choking on a Marlboro Red and stinking like Coyote Ugly on a Saturday night is as attractive to me as blacking out in a high school parking lot after a six pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade 30 minutes before my 11 o’clock curfew. Why doesn’t this make sense to every high schooler? Nothing about toting around a pack of Virginia Slims says “rebel” anymore, boys and girls. It says, “white trash and too poor for Beer 30.” Skip the smokes.

Idiot kids.

Bye.

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“I’m a hermaphrodite.”

“Bitch, I don’t care what your religion is!”