America's Next Top Mommy

Last night was our standing date for cocktails, dinner and the bitches. Usually the boys, including Mr. Dog, find other ways to occupy their time after the food has been consumed and the estrogen contingent reigns supreme over the remote control.
Last night, Big Dog decided that he had been missing out. He was going to join the ladies in the TV viewing, well, at least for America's Next Top Model (yes, I know, I know). During the challenge, the contestants were photographed as they splashed around in a shallow pool of water suspended above the photographers. It was like a giant see-through Slip n' Slide, full of model soup.
Big Dog looked at the challenge then turned to me and asked, "Are you going to do that?"
"Uh, go in the water on TV? No."
Seriously, no one wants to see my pasty white, gym shy body wallowing in a pit of water. And certainly not televised. There are probably specific FCC regulations forbidding it.
"Oh." and he went back to watching. And listening.
A few minutes pass and he asks "Are you going to pop a boob?"
"What?!?"
I mean I know they are a bit big, but pop a boob? I must have heard him wrong.
"Are you going to pop a boob, mommy?"
So I didn't hear him wrong, what the hell does this mean?
"What are you talking about? Pop a boob?"
Pointing toward the TV, "they said it on there."
"Oh, I see. No, mommy isn't going to pop a boob or get in the water."
"Ok," he says, sounding mildly disappointed. Guess he has bigger aspirations for me than I realized.

In ANTM news, the crazy breastmilk swilling mommy was ousted last night. I'm oddly OK with that.