Like many Americans, I’m currently hard at at work browsing Facebook and making very little money doing so. This year, due to budget reasons, I called off a lavish vacation I was planning to exotic Pasadena, California. I’ll have to wait another year to explore the curious curios of the devine Rose Bowl Flea Market. Instead, I’m in the middle of planning an around the world staycation. In case you’ve forgotten your 2008 buzzwords, a “staycation” is a stay-at-home vacation. So, how do you have a globetrotting staycation? It’s easy: just bring diverse foods and entertainments into your shitty apartment and cry so much you start pretending…

Food: Sure, you could cook and eat regular sausage. But what if the sausage you got from the grocery store was… polish? Suddenly, you’re transported to Warsaw, freezing your ass off while sadly touring the old Jewish ghetto and wondering if Stalin also liked polish sausage. He apparently liked kotlety, “Russian Mince Cakes,” so why not sausage, hmm?

Entertainment: Sure, you could watch a regular old movie. But what if the movie you watched on Netflix streaming was… Roberto Benigni’s unloved adaptation of Pinocchio? Suddenly, you’re in Italy, wondering what you ever liked about Roberto Benigni. You could also order an Italian “pizza” (peet-zah) and blow what little money you have at an Italian online casino. You’ll be like a high-rolling, unemployed James Bond! Except the coolest gadget in your arsenal will be a smart phone that Verizon shut-off, because you can’t afford the monthly bill.

Dancing: I still have some MP3s from my world music class in college, so… ughhhh…

1) First of all, you’ve got to capture the thing, and that’s hard. They’re very small, incredibly feisty and tricky as a twenty six dollar bill. Even a whole town in Alabama was unable to capture a leprechaun, and Alabamans are known for their traps!

2) Even if you manage to capture the leprechaun, and they tell you where the pot of gold is, all they’re gonna do is outrun you to the location and split for Ireland. You’ll be left high and dry, goldless for all your boldness. You’ll feel shitty.

3) If movies teach us anything, it’s that leprechauns are murderers.

So this St. Patrick’s Day, I’ll stick to my green beers and vomiting — no more leprechaun hunting for me. My Easter Bunny trap is all set up though, and I hear that stealing from him is a lot easier… and more delicious.

Should we outlaw animal masks? My first instinct is “yes.” My second instinct… is also “yes.” Write to your local congressmen.

This month, every Trophy Bomb post is inspired by a drawing from DeviantART.com. Today's piece is inspired by user powerbook125 (I’m calling it, “Powergirl Boobs.”)

You’re at a fancy party, discussing your view on Obama’s economic stimulus package. The next thing you know, your bra explodes! Women everywhere: there’s no need to be ashamed. This happens to everyone with big breasts. It’s called a “bra explosion,” and it’s as natural as your period. However, that doesn’t make dealing with it any less of a challenge!

It’s time to put the cards out on the table. Women with generously sized bosoms have recently been dealing with bra explosions, where your bra tears open, and the resulting force pushes your breasts through your shirt, exposing your bosoms to the public world. It didn’t happen before, but now it does. No use in trying to figure out why it happens. All you can do is learn to live with it.

Remember, breasts aren’t like vaginas. They can be shown in public with no social stigma. If Britney had just exposed her breasts, she’d still be the school girl we knew and loved in the late 90′s. Besides, these days, what with terrorism and the economy, we don’t have time to worry about whose breasts we’ve seen popping out of whose shirt. Have you opened a window? The weather outside is madness (with an 80% chance of exposed breasts).

There are rumors going around that an ingenious teen has invented a bra detonator, which somehow can explode bras with a remote control. According to rumors, these devices can be purchased at Radio Shack by giving the secret password, “dudes are crude 4 boobs!” Well, this might not be Snopes.com, but I’m putting that rumor to rest right now.

There. Done and done.

So ladies, it’s time to learn how to be proud of your boobs, and stop poking around Radio Shack looking for answers. Trust me, you’ll be the life of the party when your boobs tear through your shirt. The ruined blouse will be worth all applause and cell phone pictures taken of you. It’s like you’re famous! Until a prettier girl’s shirt tears open, and everyone will look at her instead. Hey, that’s show biz!

Special thanks to Amanda for finding the image! If you see any great DeviantArt images I should comment on this month, drop me a line: geoffrey “at” trophybomb “dot” com.