The phrase 'boob by' is not correct, as it does not make any sense.
A word such as 'booby' or 'boobies' might be more appropriate in this context. For example, you could say "This silly mistake was a booby trap I hadn't noticed before."
Toby Jones seems to turn his face inside out when he's trying to get rid of his man-boobs by weight-lifting; as he heaves and puffs, he launches a whole new lexicon - it could have been drawn from an arcane Amerindian tribe - made up of whines, groans, whistles and winces.
Your boobs, by the way, are fine.
As Corddry goes along, there and in other mainstream lovable-jerk roles, I hope he keeps encouraging some amount of respect, where needed, boob joke by boob joke.
Imagine the love-goddess Aphrodite fitted with silicone-swollen boobs, bloated by junk food, slowed down by pills and befogged by booze: that was Anna Nicole Smith, who is soon to wiggle, waddle and stagger across the stage of the Royal Opera House.
(Cobb: "Notice we haven't talked about a gray woman? Every woman in the world has her boobs evaluated by a man").
Over the course of four days, I documented grown men dressed as demon chickens, cannonball contests, seaweed pentagrams, loads of drunks, boobs, performances by the likes of Slayer, Anthrax, Suicidal Tendencies, and the Shrine, and even heard rumor of 5 AM cake fights and improvised glory holes.
If you were hoping for the right-of-center moderate Mr. Bush campaigned as, or if you shared the patronizing view of the president as a good-natured boob tugged along by avuncular ideologues, this may strike you as chilling.
The Boob Sham camp, run by the Red Crescent Organization, sits forlornly on a swath of scrub desert that was once the site of an Iraqi Army barracks bombed by the Americans in 2003.
