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.

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.

I remember my friend Emilie was the first of our 8th grade “group” to wear a thong. She finally caved in after much ridicule from her older sister regarding a tragically obvious VPL in a tacky polyester skirt (honestly, can you blame the older sis?). The day of her thong debut, she literally screamed in agony every time she bent down to open her locker. Even after witnessing her shriek six times before the end of third period, I still thought “Man, I gotta get me one of those!”

Even now, as a “mature” college girl, I will not be caught dead touching a pair of grannies, let alone wearing them during a hook up. You didn’t just sell them to the women of the world, you fooled guys into thinking they were the sexiest form of underwear. Yeah, I get the whole “more is better” thing when it comes to women’s asses, but that still doesn’t really explain to me why butt floss is an attractive option. You must have had to have some pretty solid endorsements to sell this baby to the masses. In this case, I think this product would even be a toughie for the OxyClean man (and that’s saying something – that guy could get me to buy anything). Was Sisqo dancing around a few lubed up beach babes really all it took?

Please find time in your busy pants-dropping schedule to get back to me as soon as possible. Seriously, we need to talk. I have a great idea for an invisible lingerie line that could really use a boost…

Yours truly,
Miss Thong Investor

[This story was originally posted by Elizabeth - UC Berkeley]

Likey? Don’t worry, there are plenty more faves where this came from.

Even when it’s not implicitly stated (and it usually is, on the Facebook invite: “girls who don’t dress sexy aren’t allowed in”), why do guys get to slap on a button-down and be the cool, prestigious things – CEOs, rock stars, golf pros – while girls just have to dress like “hoes”?

With Halloween looming, this is an incredibly relevant issue. In the immortal words of Cady Heron: “Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” It’s true. Halloween seems to be the one night when the cattiness and judgments that surround one girl’s wardrobe choice seem to fall away, and girls take full advantage of this. For most girls, finding a sexy costume takes priority over creating a clever one; to say that most girls don’t aspire to be praised for their minds on Halloween night is to put it mildly.

But I say, why do we subject ourselves to this? Why is it that occasions like Halloween and costume parties urge us to bare our cleavage for the enjoyment of intoxicated guys? Is it because we seek acceptance, or attention, or because we secretly crave the chance to dress like the bad girl…but only if we can escape the label?

Maybe I’m the minority here, but I don’t think there’s any such thing as a “slutty” outfit (and I firmly believe that calling another girl’s choice of clothing “skanky” is sexist in and of itself.) I think people should dress the way they choose, and while clothing is often an outlet for expression, a girl who dares to show off her toned tummy isn’t necessarily looking for a man.

I think it’s time that we stop looking for excuses to show skin. We either want to wear something or we don’t, it’s as simple as that. If you’re wearing it for yourself, and not because some douche bag with a decent party house demands it of you, no outfit is too risqué. But if you’re a slave to the sexist notions of how a woman should dress when a costume is required, stop and think about why you’re perpetuating such a chauvinistic trend.

Maybe my eyes were watering from the 32-degree weather, or maybe I was looking anxious because of all the stuff I had to get done later that day. For whatever reason, though, when I stepped up to get my waffle, the dude working the truck took a look at my face and started clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “Why don’t you smile?”

I was taken aback. Why was this guy assuming that there was something wrong with me just because the sides of my mouth didn’t happen to be turned up? And even if I had been upset, what made him think he had the right to pry into the personal life of a total stranger? I stuttered something vague and grabbed my food, happy to get the hell away from that truck. And, okay, still psyched to eat an awesome waffle.

Let me make one thing clear: I am not a gloomy person by nature. I crack jokes all the time, even when doing so might not be entirely appropriate. My laugh is so loud and distinctive—kind of like another notable Hillary’s famous guffaw—that my friends have dubbed it “the cackle.” Even so, I guess that everyone must think I have a natural bitchface or something, because random people are always suggesting to me that I should smile. More often, though, it’s just a command: “Smile!” There’s an implied “or else” at the end of that imperative.

When I was indignantly recounting the waffle incident for my roommate later that evening, she made a good point: “That’s kind of sexist! Nobody ever does that to dudes.” Her statement is totally valid. There’s no way that a guy walking down the street with a neutral expression on his face would be harassed by “concerned” passersby about turning that frown upside down.

I’d argue that the smile demand is as bad a piece of advice for women as telling them to introduce frozen grapes into their sexual repertoire. It implies that ladies should always be happy—or, even if they aren’t happy, they should project the outward appearance of being happy in order to put other people at ease.

If a man isn’t smiling, it’s no big deal. But if a woman isn’t smiling, she must either be a bitch or be undergoing some kind of profound emotional trauma. Being a bitch is no good because it makes you unfeminine, while revealing that you’re upset is also a no-no because it makes everybody else feel uncomfortable—and that goes against the old stereotype that women should always put others before themselves.

Well, screw that. If the way my face looks naturally is somehow offensive to you, you’re just going to have to deal with it. And that goes for all women; in what rulebook does it decree that girls have to sport a simpering grin at all times? Smile when you feel like it, but don’t go around beaming just because you feel some weird obligation to. Plus, frankly, I think that people who smile all the time are creepier than people who don’t.

The next time the waffle guy—or anyone else—commands me to smile, I think I’m just going to respond by saying, “No.” Then, after I turn around, maybe I’ll let my lips curl into a smirk. If I do, though, it’ll be because I felt like smiling—not because I’m trying to please anybody else.

**Note: the waffle did make me smile.

Guys sure know how to make a woman feel loved and appreciated. Especially if they spring for the coordinating accessories. Thanks, men!

Straight men spend approximately 3/4 of their day (OK, probably more) wishing that whatever they happened to be looking at involved boobs. As such, establishments that cater to straight men, like sports bars, realize that by filling their place of business with scantily clad women, they can get men to come in and buy… anything, actually. But does that make it OK to be one of those scantily clad women?

On one side of the argument are supporters of the girls who work there and like it. They say it’s just like any other waitressing gig, except that the outfits are smaller. Some girls find that they can make better tips in places like these, because the men are trying to win them over. They aren’t having sex, they’re just wearing small outfits – outfits that are quite a bit bigger than, say, what most of us wear to the beach. Some even argue that a part of what we fight for with feminism is the right to work in any profession we choose, even if that profession does pander to men, so to put a limit on what a woman can and can’t do with her own body or her own career would be anti-feminist.

The flip side of the argument is made by those who think that working in places where women show off their goods is exploitative and contrary to the equality women have fought so long for. They say that this kind of work sets girls back because it makes men view us as sex objects for their entertainment rather than equals. There are also rights issues, like the fact that only girls of a certain physical appearance are chosen for the jobs and are strictly forced to maintain that appearance (this woman was fired for being bruised after she was the victim of domestic violence). By the same virtue, men don’t get hired. There are also, of course, plenty of allegations toward both the establishments and patrons about sexual harassment.

So what do you think? Would you be willing to work in one of these “breastaurants”? Is it really setting women back? Or are all of these people just morally offended by a legitimate way of making a living?

Let us know what your vote is in the comments.

For those of you still hiding out underneath your comforters, emerge and rejoice!  For it is National Man Day today and what holiday could be better?  I can hear you now, “But, I’m not a man…how could I possibly celebrate this wondrous yet highly sexist holiday?”  Just use the following as a guide for your behavior today and no one will notice your lack of penis.

Find Pointy Objects - If it is sharp, dangerous, shiny, and/or pointy, go play with it.  Poke your friends, have pseudo-lightsaber fights, etc.  The more dangerous the object, the more fun you can potentially have with it.

Enjoy a Short Attention Span - The only thing that you should be doing for longer than 5 mins is going to the bathroom or watching TV (sports and action movies only, of course).

Don’t Call People - If you are dating someone, don’t call them.  Wait for them to call you and possibly send a text tomorrow or the next day.  You know, whatevs.  You may, however, take some calls from your friends but you should communicate mostly in grunts and keep all conversations under 13 seconds.

Make Things Explode - Take a chair from your living room, some gas from the garage, and a match.  Combine the three ingredients.  Watch the results with a bunch of friends, a case of PBR, and substantially less facial/arm hair.

Quote Bad Movies/Simpsons episodes – No need to think, just respond to everything with some random and obscure quote from a really bad movie or 6-year-old episode of The Simpsons. People will think you’re really funny.

Eat…Everything - Seriously.  Everything in your fridge, your cupboards, or anywhere else in your house that you can find food (that slice of pizza under your bed? Done deal) is fair game.  Extra points if you eat mostly red meat or horrible take-out food (massive amounts of Taco Bell, anybody?).

Perpetrate Random Acts of Violence - I’m not talking about going out and shanking your neighbor, but punching everyone you see in the arm as a friendly “Hello” would work just fine.  Also, random and totally not homosexual wrestling matches will be acceptable.

Go Hygiene Optional - You have full permission to roll out of bed, throw on that sweatshirt and those jeans that are on your floor and call it good for the day.  After all, you’ll just be sitting around watching TV with your hand down your pants – that is, when you’re not grabbing food or blowing things up with your friends.

Think About Sex. All Day. Without Fail. If you’re eating lunch, think about eating a sandwich while having sex. If you are driving, think about having sex while driving. If you are hanging out with your mom and grandma, try really hard not to think about having sex with older women, fail, then just think about sex with Paris Hilton to block out the image that just came to your mind.

Good luck, ladies.  I have already gotten a good start on National Man Day by getting drunk and picking fights with substantially larger men who get in my way.  I also may or may not be looking at pictures of girls with big boobs at the moment.  It’s good to be a guy.

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.

I remember my friend Emilie was the first of our 8th grade “group” to wear a thong. She finally caved in after much ridicule from her older sister regarding a tragically obvious VPL in a tacky polyester skirt (honestly, can you blame the older sis?). The day of her thong debut, she literally screamed in agony every time she bent down to open her locker. Even after witnessing her shriek six times before the end of third period, I still thought “Man, I gotta get me one of those!”

Even now, as a “mature” college girl, I will not be caught dead touching a pair of grannies, let alone wearing them during a hook up. You didn’t just sell them to the women of the world, you fooled guys into thinking they were the sexiest form of underwear. Yeah, I get the whole “more is better” thing when it comes to women’s asses, but that still doesn’t really explain to me why butt floss is an attractive option. You must have had to have some pretty solid endorsements to sell this baby to the masses. In this case, I think this product would even be a toughie for the OxyClean man (and that’s saying something – that guy can get me to buy anything). Was Sisqo dancing around a few lubed up beach babes really all it took?

Please find time in your busy pants-dropping schedule to get back to me as soon as possible. Seriously, we need to talk. I have a great idea for an invisible lingerie line that could really use a boost…

Yours truly,

Miss Thong Investor

[photo from www.environmentaltalk.com]

Then there’s the racism and sexism in all of the cartoons his company has produced.

But I guess we’d all thought, with the advent of the first ever black female lead in a Disney cartoon, that the company had turned a new, desperate leaf and was actually interested in being a culturally aware organization rather then a profit-hungry global conglomerate steeped in Nazi tradition (Did you know?: Pirates of the Caribbean is powered by the OCCULT!).

We thought wrong. Looks like theres’ a huge labor dispute going on right now between Disney and a few thousand hotel employees, which was brought to a head today when protesters marched on the California Disney locations, dressed (hilariously) as Disney characters.

Bewildered tourists in Disney T-shirts and caps, some pushing strollers, filed past the commotion and gawked at the costumed picketers getting hauled away. The protest shut down a major thoroughfare outside Disneyland and California Adventure for nearly an hour.

“It’s changing my opinion of Disneyland,” said tourist Amanda Kosato, who was visiting from north of Melbourne, Australia. “Taking away entitlements stinks.”

The dispute involves about 2,300 maids, bell hops, cooks and dishwashers at three Disney-owned hotels: the Paradise Pier, the Grand Californian and the Disneyland Hotel.

The workers’ contract expired in February and their union says Disney’s latest proposal makes health care unaffordable for hundreds of employees and creates an unfair two-tier wage system. The union also says Disney wants to create a new category of part-time employees who would receive greatly reduced benefits. (YahooNews)

Companies do this sh*t all the time. Actually, the security firm that my college (WOO LIBERAL COLLEGE REFUSING TO SUPPORT WORKERS BECAUSE IT’S JUST A PROFIT MACHINE) uses to supply guards for class buildings and dorms did this to their employees when their union contracts ran out and totally HOSED them with removal of daycare options and lower wages. Then there is the whole Congress Hotel debacle that’s been going on for five years here in Chicago…

Looks like lots of big companies enjoy screwing the little man.

Kudos Disney, spread that love.

We IM our asses off.

[PS: We are not promoting scratching someone's eye out.  You could get arrested]