Good morning, children!  This is Sarah.  Abby has the rest of the day off, so you’re stuck with me.  As consolation, I present to you: boobs.  Well, one boob, anyway.  And you can’t really see it, actually.  I guess really it’s just some side boob… listen, this ain’t Playboy, ok?  We peddle flesh, sure, but we’re KLASSY up in here, and don’t you forget it.  Moving on…

November’s W Magazine will contain personal photos taken by Brad Pitt of Angelina Jolie with the twins, Knox and Vivienne, including the cover shot of Angelina nursing one of them.  No, I don’t know which one, but if you want to be all Creeptastic Nancy Drew then I suppose you could try to identify the baby by that disembodied tiny tot hand, which apparently has only three fingers… are these twins part Muppet?  Whatever, I bet Angie and Brad could fashion children out of twigs, straw, mud and saliva the way birds build houses, and they’d still be the cutest kids in the universe.  I’m no geneticist, but I’m pretty sure those two contain beautiful, beautiful supergenes which are so dominant, they could probably each lay a hand on Michael Jackson and, through the power of touch alone, fix the eight thousand things wrong with his face.

Aaaanyway, the point here is that Brad Pitt would like for you to know that Angelina Jolie not only has breasts, but that they function and he can look at them whenever he wants.  He would like you to witness the contented smile on Angie’s face as he photographs her with only half a shirt on.  He apparently feels that three squalling beings as physical evidence of their intimacy is insufficient, and he would like to further rub it in your face that THIS is what sprawls out in bed next to him every night.  Somewhere, Jennifer Aniston is totally sobbing into a plate full of cake, washing it down with a fifth of vodka and drunk dialing John Mayer.