Well, here's something I never thought I'd say: I'm bored with breasts. OK, not entirely. Just one breast in particular.

It has been a year since we first caught a glimpse of Ms. Jackson's bejeweled bosom.

I wasn't that interested in seeing it before it happened, it wasn't that interesting to see when it happened and I certainly am not interested in seeing it over and over again on news shows when they talk about what happened at last year's Super Bowl.

I'm so very tired of nipples. It still sounds so wrong to say, but it's true.

"Have ya naked by the end of this song." "Have ya naked by the end of this song." "Have ya naked by the end of this song."

Every channel, every TV show ran the same eight seconds of footage.

Maybe it wouldn't have bothered me if that squirrely Justin Timberlake hadn't been hanging off Janet at the time. Nothing ruins seeing a topless woman more than having a Backstreet Kid on the Block blocking your view.

The offending body part had nearly slipped my mind by the end of 2004. Then, of course, it was time for all those year end wrap-up stories.

Bless Britney, Bennifer and Bradiffer for trying. They almost erased The Incident from the collective memory of the masses and tried to give the writers at In Touch something else to talk about.

They gave it their all, but it seems marriages and break-ups and million dollar diamond rings just aren't as interesting as a nipple.

The past week has been worse, too. Nearly as bad as the immediate aftermath.

You know what? I really don't want to hear about Paul McCartney's nipple anymore than I want to hear about Janet Jackson's.

Can we talk about what's really important?

Let's try to remember the Super Bowl isn't just about the halftime show. Or the pre-game warm-up. Or the Pepsi Pre-Game salute to Ray Charles or the Doritos Kick-Off Party or the MTV2 All-Day Tailgate Jam.

We are losing sight of the fact that somewhere amongst the halftime show havoc is a serious athletic competition that wraps up quickly so we can get back to the commercials.

Hopefully some naughty commercial will slip by the censors and have everybody up in arms about something else.

Maybe one of the announcers will let an F-bomb slip out. Or Tom Brady's pants will fall down in the endzone.

Something, anything to change the subject from breasts. The non-stop nipple talk has to peak sometime.

The one positive, I suppose, is that there have been so many Nipplegate/Boobgate/Breastgate references in the mainstream media that I think it is now acceptable for me to write a column that includes "boob" without the word "tube" beside it.

Boob.

That's fun to type. Boob.

OK, the thrill is back.