It’s one of those mornings. Just a warning.
These things happen, late in the week. The accumulated lack of sleep piles up until Thursday, when I’m positively dull-witted. Friday I get a second wind, but Thursdays just suck. To quote a recent Kim Severson tweet: The bags under my eyes are so big Delta charged me $25 each. I should be used to working late and getting up early, but friends, I am not. My boss told me once he hasn’t gotten more than four hours sleep since he started his company. I shudder to think.
So, in honor of my lack of functioning brain cells, let’s lower the tone. Let’s talk about…oh, what’s in the file here… Got it! Boobs.
If you’re not online as much as I am, you’ve doubtless missed the story of Debrahlee Lorenzana, who is apparently bringing suit against her former employer, who fired her (she claims) because her smokin’ hotness. The story has been followed mostly by Gawker, and thanks to the miracle of tagging, I can link you to a single page of posts, where you are advised to start at the bottom and read up.
Debrahlee is, indeed, lovely, and it’s easy to see how a bunch of loutish bankers would find her distracting when she strolled through the room. I used to work with a woman somewhat like this — young, beautiful, and a very sharp dresser. It was the latter that made her a head-turner, because most newsrooms are oceans of Dockers and polo shirts and other unfortunate sartorial choices. She was also Asian, and had that almost impossibly tiny frame Asian women frequently have. She was fond of wide, waist-cinching belts, and whenever she walked by, I would think, Somewhere, Scarlett O’Hara is weeping.
Anyhoo, Debrahlee. (I’m going to start calling her “Debbie.” This ridiculous spelling is getting on my nerves.) Debbie’s case is very strange, because her lawyer appears to have tricked her out in a number of plunging necklines and stiletto heels to…what end, exactly? Demonstrate how hot she is? Is this to bolster her case? Because if I were an office manager I’d probably tell her to lay off the V-necks, too. Which reminds me of another one of my former colleagues, a summer intern who once appeared for work in a sheer blouse and a hot-pink bra. You didn’t get the sense she was going for any sort of va-va-voom factor, it was just, y’know, what was clean that morning. The editor who sent her home to change earned her check that week. It was widely believed at the time that she had “some sort of developmental delay,” as the health writer delicately put it. Yes, friends, that was our newsroom — the place that hired mentally challenged interns.
Back to Debbie. She keeps turning up in the news, always with many, many photographs, always with a vague message that seemed to boil down to I am sooo hot. At one point she said she couldn’t help the way she looked, her slender body and her full breasts were “genetic,” and shouldn’t she be able to hold a job like everyone else? She almost had me for a while; the Gorgeous-American community has rights, too.
Then, yesterday, Gawker found the smoking videotape — Debbie featured in a plastic-surgery marketing video shot some years back, asking for “huge, double-D breasts” so she can look like “a Playboy Playmate.” So much for genetics, but you probably already figured that out.
Which brings us to the other boob story of the morning: Did Sarah Palin buy herself a pair? Please please please let this story be true. Please. (I’m dubious, however. She doesn’t look all that enhanced. On the other hand, there is no way those are the natural breasts of a fortysomething veteran of five pregnancies.) If it’s true, it would indicate desperation has begun to nibble around the edges of her steely confidence. And that’s a good thing.
Boobs, male variety: Don’t let the children of gay parents go to our Catholic school! They’ll probably bring porn and dildos to show-and-tell. No further comment needed.
Belated attention to Hank Stuever, who is not a boob, with some suggestions, and a couple musts-to-avoid, for your summer reading list. (There’s a boob-related anecdote within.)
Via Brendan, a Brian Dickerson column on how Michigan might emulate California, but in a good way. Boob factor: The state legislature.
And with that, the caffeine has kicked in and I’m outta here. Off to the gym. To work on my pectorals.