So I went out on Saturday.

And bought the bra of all bras.

The Victoria's Secret Angels Embrace.

Have you seen this thing? Voted best bra in the world. Featured on Oprah or something like that. Next thing you know, it'll be making the rounds late nite.

Price? 50 bucks a pop. That's almost 25 bucks a boob!

And it got me thinking. If I'm going to pay that much for some fabric that keeps my girls from hitting my bellybutton? You don't need to butter me up. Calling it "Embrace" and all that shit. Wonder Bra. Lily of France.

Let's not mince words here, people.

If I'm going to pay that much?

All I want to hear is

GEE! Your Tits Look Terrific!

In fact, for that price, I want a little man following me around whispering it in my ear whenever I catch a glimpse of my newly Victoria's Secreted bust.

Just make him about ::motioning to chest:: yay high and have him look like Seth Cohen. Mail him to me, I"ll pay C.O.D., okay? Thanks.

Who said girls need flowers?