Backpedal to the Metal

I may have made a slight error in the candidness of my previous post. The error being that I have a girlfriend, and a girlfriend who is not best pleased to read about the intricate details of another woman's cleavage. I was made aware of this fact shortly after I posted my 'ode to bosom' when I received an email from my gorgeous questioning the legitimacy of my birth. So in order to restore the delicate balance of love and tenderness that joins our souls, and more importantly to ensure I get fed again, I must make amends. There are a few ways I considered doing this. The first would be to praise my girlfriend's own wonderful pair of spectacular accomplishments, however something tells me this would go down as well as a tap-dancing ferret pouring shots of tequila at an AA meeting for sound-proofed weasel-haters. (Her breasts are marvelous though.) The second would be to point out that the owner of the aforementioned cleavage was in fact a forty year old, cross-eyed drunkard of a woman. But then I'd run the risk of alienating my many drunk middle aged esotropic female readers (seventeen at last count). Finally I could protest my indefatigable right to freedom of speech, rail against the tyrannies of censorship and proclaim the vital role unshackled expression has played in our greatest works of art and humanity... but see my earlier note about wanting to get fed. So instead, I'll just say that perhaps I should have thought twice about going into such lurid details about a third party's assets. I am sorry. Thoughtless and sorry. Can I have dinner now?