You bet your sweet bippy.

I'm bring that phrase back. Because it's super cool.

I've had so much to share but then I got super busy at work. 

SO, Obama. What's there to say that hasn't already been said?  Right now I'm more intrigued by this billionaire dirty old mens club that our former President seems to be fraternizing with.  Years ago, I was the only woman on a boys weekend in Vegas. The guy I was seeing at the time was the only "single" man on the trip decided that he wanted me to accompany him to Vegas. Oh LORDY, did I witness some shenanigans that weekend. These weren't good men in any sense of the imagination and give them a few thousand miles between them and their wives along with copious amounts of alcohol, strippers and legalized prostitution...

Some boys will always be boys.

Anyway, in the spirit of non sequitors, the woman who waxes her eyebrows pulled out her boob during my appointment last week.   Yep. That's right.

I hadn't been into this particular salon (read dirty nail place) for awhile and upon seeing her I complimented her on her very dramatic and obvious weight loss.  She started to tell me about her miraculous transformation courtesy of liposuction and a tummy tuck.  She started explaining the procedure and as she spoke she lifted up her shirt to show me some sort of surgical girdle.  During the explanation, I proceeded to lie down for the eyebrow waxing when the conversation moved from her abdomen to her breasts.  At this point she pulled down the right side her bra and whipped out her boob. 

Well, I have to admit I was shocked. SHOCKED!!!

Of course, I assumed after ripping that sucker out with such fervor she was waiting for compliments but in that moment I had no idea what she had done to it (them).  Between her broken English and my melting brain, I was reserving all my strength to ensure that the expression on my face remained vacant.  I mean, I got that she was very proud of them (proud enough to show them off) and from where I was lying it (they) didn't look half bad and so I started praising her right titty that was now dangling precariously close to my face. (Okay, it was neither dangling or anywhere near my face and I'm sure that the only "praise" I could actually muster was a very earnest "WOW").

Satisfied with my reaction, she reholstered the thing and began to drip hot wax on my face and I was left to ponder the etiquette surrounding boob job exposure.  To be quite honest, I'm disappointed in my prudish reaction. I mean, I'm pretty sure I could have pulled off a rousing rendition of Kelis' Milkshakes.  Unfortunately for me, my wicked rap skillz, Ruby and the rest of the salon's patrons -- moments like that, once lost, are lost forever.  But I can promise you this won't happen to me again.  Never will I be at a loss for the proper compliment in a moment of awkward boob job exposure.  I am determined, now more than ever, to be well-versed in proper boob job compliments.   

You bet your sweet bippy I am.