March 25th 2013
Boobs, Bras, And Lacey Shit.
Good. Now I have your attention.
I was on the hunt for a pair of assless chaps the other day at the local Victoria Secret store (Or as as I like to call it “Panty Mountain” or “An endless supply of sparkly things to put up your ass…crack – city” when a perfectly perfumed employee asked me if “I needed any help with anything?”
So kind of her to ask.
I contemplated telling her about the intense relationship between my smoke detector and fajitas
Or even the extreme anxiety I attain when I come into contact with double sided tape.
But I decided to go classy and say
“What do you want from me?”
We made fierce eye contact. No homo. She then explained that she simply wanted to know if I “Needed any help picking anything out? For everyday wear? Perhaps for a special occasion?”
Employee, please. My entire life is a special occasion.
But. Now that you mention it. I’m curious. Sure. You can give me a tour of Panty Mountain. Tell me the most popular styles and the most boob-busting things. So she did. Told me the favorites and the least favorites. The popular and the unpopular. The glorified G-strings to the clearance rack granny panty.
What did she say? Who made the cut? Well. I’ll tell you. In the form of a homemade diagram. A diagram of a lunch table. A lunch table…of Lingerie:
Let’s break this down.
The Cool Kids
Let’s talk about them.
Loyal friend to the spandex, tight dresses and the modern day man.
Do they have a permanent residence in ass cracks? Sure do.
Is that weird? You betcha.
Do we completely surpass this fact and label it as sexy anyway? No doubt.
A literal case of ass-kissing to popularity in the form of colors, prints and chains! (< God help us)
The “I’m just lucky to be here” member of the cool kid table willing to kiss just about anyone’s ass (literally) for social acceptance. And that…they do.
And then there’s the Sparkly bras.
Let’s chat about those.
A prison ward to free boobin and flat chestin damsels everywhere.
The superficial friend that has the occasional, compulsive lying tendencies. Like. Adding 2 chest cup sizes. Or. Falsely promising free mallows via Panty Mountain’s website.
They’re pretty. They’re useful. The kind of friend you keep around because they look good in pics and alert social media you have hot, sparkly friends. Forget the quality and loyalty of the nude bras. These bad bitches bring all the damn boys to the yard. They’re the physical dream of any man. But the physical nightmare once the doors are closed. This psychotic prom queen is pretty from afar, but get her close and she inflicts multiple straps, glitter to the eyes and the occasional front clasp.
The Satin Sleep Dress
These high maintenance assholes are the ring leaders of the group. The overpriced piece of polyester that makes every man believe you need to pose in every doorway like this:
And you’re like “Damn. They’re a high-maitenance asshole. And I’m entranced by their high maintenance, ass-holey ways. In fact, I’m going to talk a lot of shit about them. And then, I’m going to try to be just like them. Just in case I can roll with the cool kids too.
Suddenly you’ve made everyone uncomfy. And you’re forced to share a table with granny panties and Aids. Nice.
The sticky boobs.
The wannabe strapless befriending every backless dress or low cut tank. A low-drama companion only causing controversy when accidentally mistaken for chicken cutlets and pan-fried for the household to enjoy.
The Sports Bra
The staple atheletic friend who wants craves the pizzaz of a sparkly bra but stuck in a heavy set relationship with the cotton/spandex blend. You say necklace? They say choker! You say hygiene? They say visor! You say boys? They say softball! You want to judge them. But these sonsofbitches are built like Fort Knox and comfortable as shit in their social standing.
Whips, Chains And Assless Chaps
These are the psychos you meet under the bleachers. The satin gown’s and chicken cutlet’s undercover fantasy. The bonified drug dealers of the high school yard pocketing the goods that all the kids want but…would throw themselves in the nearest dumpster if they were seen on the premises. These guys? These guys rule the school.
The Granny Panty
The Granny Panty asked me once, “Why does everyone hate me so much?” Well, Granny Panty, maybe things would be different if your name wasn’t Granny…Panty. Listen. You’re a nice panty. And you rock the floral and/or scattered animal print rather well. But . You’re a life ruiner. A sex killer. A pure.man.repellant. An unwanted bunch-up in my favorite pseudo jeans #jeggings. You’re nothing but a great bargain at the local Wal mart and an uncomfortable feeling when my yoga pants want to work out. And let’s not forget:
1. The time you made a guest appearance through my pencil skirt whilst I unsuccessfully attempted the slow motion bend and snap in front of the sexy pizza guy after “dropping” my garlic knots on the floor. He didn’t like it. Goddamn you.
2. When I was in route to hooking up with “Hot Steve” only for him to change his mother fucking mind when he saw a fleet of cartoon puppies scampering across my panty line. I LOOKED LIKE A FOOL. But mostly because he delicately asked me why I was wearing a “Dick softener?” I didn’t have an answer. And neither did you. You dog-loving asshole.
(…But hey listen Laundry day is on Sunday if you want to hang out…)
So there you have it. The lunch table anatomy of all the lingerie you wear, and the lingerie you wear but won’t admit to. And if you’re a guy. Same goes for you. Don’t act like you weren’t apart of the awkward 2000-2009 era where dressing like a girl for halloween was considered humorous and not at all weird. You’ve worn a thong. You’ve worn a dress. You’ve felt that breeze. You can relate. And we’re not going to talk about it. You can’t sit with us.