So apparently Ryan Jenkins (whose name I had to look up several times so I wouldn't forget it) is quite the criminal mastermind. Jenkins, who parlayed allegedly having sex with a walking STD into a lucrative reality television career, has been charged with murder for killing his stripper, I mean wife. Look, you just woke up from a trip to Vegas, realize you married the whore you blew $5oo on in the Studio 54 knock-off at the MGM. I get it, we've all been there, normal guys just drink enough vodka to black out and hope the girl leaves without stealing your wallet, but that's not a deal breaker.
But a normal guy doesn't kill the lady, chop off her fingers and bust out her teeth like he's in some cut-rate version of The Whole Nine Yards. Luckily for lady justice, Genius Jenkins forgot that his wife had her boobs done at some point and that they each have serial numbers that can be traced on them.
The moral of the story? Outside of avoiding all possible entanglements with anyone and everyone who has ever been on Vh1? That it is better to be safe than sorry ladies, get your boobs done so you can always be identified. Tastefully done, of course. What I really want to know is why a back-up monster from Lilo and Stitch needed a boob-job and was dating a loser like Ryan Jenkins?