..but yes, those boobs are real.
[Ted somebodyorother, E(h)!]:
I can't help it if women feel the impulse to discuss their breasts with me. I bumped into Lindsay Lohan at the Saved! premiere (more teen deets latuh), and like Kate Beckinsale at the Van Helsing hoedown a coupla weeks ago, L2 brought up the subject of her knockers herself. Not a peepin' request outta me--swear.
By now, boys in far-off Mongolia have heard the rumor that Ms. Lohan's rack is, well, silicone-based. Hadn't really thunk one way or another on the buoyant thangs--they don't exactly distract moi--until I asked L2 for her thoughts on being sexalicious. (Hmmm, maybe I am more interested in the gals' bods than I pretend to be.)
But back to the nipple--I mean point--at hand. In response to my, like, totally shallow inquiry, Ms. L. pooped:
"I'm kind of in a position where I don't want to be sexy right now, because [the gossip rags] were writing about my chest being fake. So, I'm afraid."
Damn, busted. 'Specially as she looked me in the hazel eye, diva to diva, and said, "They're real. I don't have implants. That's retarded. I'm 17."
5/27/04
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