Dear Mr. Thong Inventor,

I would like to preface this letter by saying that your work has made a large yet incredibly skimpy contribution to my adolescent years. And while I do believe in the nobleness of your cause, I am rather puzzled by the method to the madness of such an invention. As I hold up the tiny piece of fabric that is my underwear, several questions come to mind, such as:

Which came first: The thong, or “The Thong Song”?
The first time I heard The Thong Song, I was 11-years-old. Try explaining to a sixth grader, still under-clad with flower-print Hanes granny panties, the concept of a thong. Watching a leprechaun of a man do cartwheels on the beach doesn’t really do that good of a job of explaining the exact science behind the thong. In fact, I’m pretty sure I thought he was singing about summertime footwear up until 2001, when I realized I needed to wear this contraption to be socially acceptable.

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Do you ever stare at yourself in the mirror and think, “damn, I wish I could lift my ass up but not add any padding, plus it would be nice to slim my thighs at the same time and tuck my tummy and basically lock my body into suffocating spandex“? Well, if you’ve ever thought these odd things: someone has heard you.

Bubbles Bodywear has come up with “The Double-O Push-Up Thong,” which is basically a bra for your butt. It’s supposed to tone and shape your ass while slimming your thighs and holding in your stomach — all the while shoving itself up your butt crack.

The best thing about The Double-O is that it costs $64!! Nothing makes a girl smile like spending loads of money on an item of clothing that no one will see (and those who do will have so. many. questions.) and which will also be needlessly uncomfortable. Seems like Bubbles Bodywear totally understands the need for women to strap themselves in to point of asphyxiation.

Dear Mr. Thong Inventor,

I would like to preface this letter by saying that your work has made a large yet incredibly skimpy contribution to my adolescent years. And while I do believe in the nobleness of your cause, I am rather puzzled by the method to the madness of such an invention. As I hold up the tiny piece of fabric that is my underwear, several questions come to mind, such as:

• Which came first: The thong, or “The Thong Song”?

The first time I heard the thong song, I was 11-years-old. Try explaining to a sixth grader, still under-clad with flower-print Hanes grannie panties, the concept of a thong. Watching a leprechaun of a man do cartwheels on the beach doesn’t really do that good of a job of explaining the exact science behind the thong. In fact, I’m pretty sure I thought he was singing about summertime footwear up until 2001, when I realized I needed to wear this contraption to be socially acceptable.

• Where the devil did you get this genius idea?

Was it a public service project? Did you see one too many VPLs (Visible Panty Lines, for you not-in-the-knows) and proclaim “I’ve had it! I’m inventing buttless underwear!” To you, Mr. Thong Inventor, going commando just wasn’t an option. Now that point I can understand, as I probably have not washed my jeans since the opening night of “Sex and the City.” And who really likes walking around with that “I’m wearing the pant equivalent of dirty underwear” feeling all day? Yeah, neither do I. So really, Mr. T.I, you were the answer to my laundry-lazy, VPL-phobic prayers.

• How the hell did you get it to catch on?

No seriously. It takes pure skill to get a woman to try on a permanent wedgie, let alone make it a long lasting trend in the sexy lingerie industry. Think about it: it’s a tiny scrap of cotton, satin, silk, or pearls (hey, I dunno what kinda stuff you’re into…) that is designed to chill between your butt cheeks all day. But women still go crazy for them! They even tease other women that don’t wear their underwear up their ass. Read More »

It might be a genius idea to have the reunion show before the finale. I try to care enough to watch the reunions but usually they are a waste of my time. We don’t get much out of them; all we see is that after watching themselves on TV, the contestants have gone out and gotten new hair or lost weight or sat in a tanning bed for a while.

I don’t remember most of these people so I hope that I don’t have to hear them talk. I wish that Jay had missed his flight out of Jersey.

Everyone is out on stage except for Chad, Bo and Kristy. I guess Chad has to be kept away from Bo, especially if there’s some lawsuit lurking.

We’re treated to clips of everyone making fun of Jay because he sucks, Glitter because she’s crazy and George for being nocturnally creepy. What’s up with staying up all night to watch everyone sleep?

I wish that someone would fill a tube sock with silver dollars and smack Jay in the mouth to make him shut up. You are NOT a bad ass; CHAD had to fight ‘for’ you, little man, because you can’t head butt anyone in the face unless they’re too short to go on the upside down roller coasters at the county fair.

I don’t know who’s calling Jay out, but I like her. Who threw a chair at him? Haaaaa!!!!!! Do it, Jersey girl Lauren!!! Read More »

Both the Huffington Post and the New York Times have recently gotten really interested in girl-on-girl action (but don’t worry, this has nothing to do with Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson. Absolutely nothing. Seriously. Nothing). They’ve gotten so interested, in fact, that they’ve dedicated whole columns to trying to figure out why it seems like chicks dig other chicks.

Let me break it down for them (and you, if you really don’t know): chicks dig chicks because we’ve been taught to dig chicks.

Why do women seem to have a more fluid sexuality than men – at least that anyone will admit? Because since we came shrieking out of the womb, we’ve seen images of women in every stage of undress – including naked. Advertisements for razors with long, leisurely shots of legs. TV shows that have a mandatory wardrobe of tight clothes and short skirts. A bajillion movies where tits and ass flash across the screen so often that we eventually forget guys even have body parts. Music videos full of bling and boob. Reality TV where hot tubs are as mandatory as microphones. Porn (who could forget porn?). I mean, it’s not an old argument that the media is saturated with the female form.

So why are we all puzzled that girls get a little aroused when they see other naked or semi-naked girls? Read More »

The allure of the “tease” has long driven men shamefully crazy. The fishnets on the librarian. The black bra through the shirt. The lace underwear he can see when you bend over. This concept is the functioning force behind burlesque, perfume ads, and even your little black dress.

The tease, in my opinion, may very well be the purest form of foreplay.

So why not participate in some online foreplay? Everything else these days is online. You trust your bank account online. Your private emails. Your social security number. So why not your sexy legs?

I’m not saying that you need to go off and buy a “(your name)inherunderwear.com” domain. However, if you’ve got an appetite at all for building on sexual chemistry between yourself and someone else, why not restructure your approach to the traditional tease? Lets face it: nothing else is traditional anymore, so this doesn’t need to be, either.

Far too many girls, in my opinion, really need to sort out their bunched up panties over matters like this.

DEAR GIRLS WHO ARE AFRAID OF SENDING YOUR DESIRED OTHER SEXY PICTURES OVER THE INTERNET: Read More »

“There’s a really hot guy in my Shakespeare class,” my girlfriend informed her roommate and me during lunch the other day. My first immediate thought was “Why have I not seen this guy?”. My second immediate thought was “I wonder exactly how hot he is.”

It didn’t really occur to me at all that I should have been jealous or angry or even concerned, and my girlfriend seemed just about as intrigued as I did when I told her about the tall, silent, fairly attractive guy in the corner of my Shakespeare class.

Ogling is a tricky little subject. The problem is that just because you now have a girl doesn’t mean every other gal and/or guy instantly ceases to be attractive. Hot people still exist (thank God), and there isn’t some magical on/off switch that makes you think your girl is the hottest one on the planet (not that this is a bad thing to think).

It also kind of complicates matters that ogling when you’re in a girl/girl relationship is one of the things that’s VERY different from the way it is in a girl/boy relationship. It depends all on your significant other’s personality, of course; I’m not gonna say that ALL girls are okay with ogling and ALL guys are against it. For me, though, I’ve never had a boyfriend who entirely appreciated me leaning to the side and checking out that one guy’s amazingly shaped ass or that girl’s near perfect rack. My girl now is totally okay with it. So what’s the big deal? Read More »

I have an inexplicable love for frat boys. You’d think that after college, I’d have learned my lesson and vow to never again attempt dating one. But no. Ooooh no.

It was Cinco de Mayo, right after college graduation. Four margaritas and a free t-shirt later, I saw him, stumbling toward the bar in basketball shorts, a t-shirt, J. Crew flip flops, and—

“Nice sombrero, hombre!“

Yes. A sombrero. To those who aren’t familiar, the frat boy always comes with an accessory: obnoxious headgear or aviators. My friend, who was keeping pace with my drinking at about half my size, decided to toss a line to the slightly dirtball, overly confident drunk guy. He turned, grabbed a basket of tortilla chips from another table, and slid into our booth.

“How do you ladies feel about flipcup?”

Swoon!

Hombre, as he came to be known, was a Long Islander with a hah-rrible accent whose buddy was hosting a flipcup tournament. I left the bar after putting my number in his phone, expecting never to hear from him again. Turns out Hombre had an affinity for drunk text messaging at prime booty-call hour. Which is how we ended up on our first date three days later. Read More »

Every girl knows that unless you’re some kind of anomaly and super okay with every inch of your body, the idea of being scrutinized in a bathing suit is a thought horrifying enough to keep most of us in sweats forever.

Why then, are so many people interested in breaking down celebrities who aren’t frighteningly thin?

Jennifer Love Hewitt is the most recent victim of badly angled paparazzi photos, and I have to say, I feel every inch of her pain. Sure, the girl isn’t skinny, but she’s not fat.

So there are a few instances of cellulite. So she has a waist thicker than a pencil. So she’s not wearing a ton of make-up at the beach. How many average women does this describe?

I’m happy that JLW isn’t thin. Even though I don’t watch her show (I mean, if we’re being honest here…it’s totally boring), I think she’s a good role model for girls all over the country who have boobs and an ass.

She’s on TV and she’s not a size 0. There’s hope for us all. Read More »

Women love to pamper themselves. You know it, I know it, the American people know it. Hell, even I’ve hit up the spa on occasion to see what all the fuss is about.

But isn’t there a point when all this narcissistic pampering goes a little too far? By all accounts, the answer is a resounding no. Want proof? Apparently, the hip new trend to hit spas across the country is the butt facial. Yes, you read that correctly. The Butt Facial.

Now, I’ve never gotten, or even born witness to, an actual facial, so I’m not exactly the resident expert here. From what I can gather, the method for facializing (is that a word, and if not, can we make it one?) the butt is almost identical to that of getting an actual facial.

There’s quite a bit of cleaning (ultra-important where the butt is concerned) with a dash of detoxifying (not sure at all what that does, but it sounds healthy enough).

But I guess the real catalyst behind the butt facial craze is the second half of the process, which involves a type of electro-shock therapy designed to reduce cellulite and increase butt firmness.

The deafening silence you’re hearing now is the sound of every one of my readers jetting off to the nearest spa.

Unfortunately for the “regular” people among us, the procedure is running customers upwards of $800 a pop. Heyyy…welcome back everyone! Read More »