I’ve been neglecting my email (again), so I missed about half a dozen articles that Ms. Calabaza and Agustin F and others sent me for post ideas, all of them terrific. Thanks you, one and all, for thinking of me and my appreciative if twisted readership among whom you may number yourselves. E.g……….
Yvonne Jean Pampellonne, 30, allegedly used a fraudulent identity to pay for liposuction and a breast implant exchange, according to the Huntington Beach [CA] PD. The total cost of the surgeries is valued at more than $12,000.
[She] is accused of opening a line of credit in someone else’s name in September 2008, having the procedures and then never showing up for any follow-up appointments, police said.
Dr. Larry Nichter, who performed the surgery at the Pacific Center For Plastic Surgery, used identification numbers on the old set of implants to track down the original surgeon. Employees at the center were able to confirm the identity of Pampellonne as a suspect after viewing a photograph line-up, police said.
Pampellonne surrendered in court Tuesday and was released on $20,000 bail, said attorney Paul Wallin, [who] when all the facts are established, “a completely different picture” will emerge. He also lambasted media reports that he said have portrayed Pampellonne as, among other things, a “boob-job bandit.” — NBCNewYork.com
Sounds like jury duty I’d volunteer for. Not to mention the discovery process.
Serial numbers. Who knew? Ms. P sure didn’t. Your store-boughts are factory stamped with a unique, traceable number. So if they’re defective — imagine that phone call: Ms Papellonne? This is the Pumpemup Clinic. There’s been a little problem, could you come in next week so we can check the pressure on your bolt-ons? — the physicians know whose equipment needs a tune-up.
It also protects against a market for used boobs. Or should that be “pre-owned”? I guess a clinic could do the equivalent of filing off the serial number, but a defaced serial number is just as much a prescription for a handcuffed surgeon as a recycled one. Would it be a turn-on or repulsive as roach retch that the funbags you fondle today once perched on another’s ribcage? “They look better on you than they did on your sister!” isn’t the sort of compliment one associates with a boob job.
Meanwhile, it had to be a totally blonde moment when she concluded she wouldn’t need a follow-up exam. A lot can go wrong with either procedure, and any surgeon not practicing out of his car won’t intervene without a complete set of records. Here’s your left tit sliding up into your armpit and the right one down to your appendix…..who you gonna call? Post-Busters?
Anyway, for sure she’s getting the attention she craved, and right where she wanted it, too.