"This thing right here is lettin' all the ladies know. What guys talk about. You know the finer things..." Hell no Sisqo! STOP RIGHT THERE! Don't even say it. While a majority of the hetero male population would most likely disagree, I am in no way appreciative of the dinky, scantily clad (why the hell does this lil' piece of material cost so much?) undergarment known as the "thong" or "g-string." I refer to call them "ass floss." Why? Because that's exactly what it is. Why? Because that's exactly how it feels to the female butt cheeks. We've discussed in earlier posts a small obsession that my husband has with me wearing these "Things" that I HATE! He's even asked why I don't wear them to work and even used bargaining and black mailing tools like, 'I'll get this for you if you wear a g-string for a week straight.' Really? Ok, so first you're whoring me off or expecting me to whore off myself, and then you think this material thing is going to be worth me torturing myself for a whole week? Seriously? Because I'm thinking there's really nothing on this planet I want that bad! A million bucks vs. thong: I think I'll try that billion to one chance at Publisher's Clearinghouse instead. Meeting Martin Brodeur or Drew Brees and wearing a thong: Oops I better not go there. And why would I wear this gross piece of string up my butt while I'm at work? Um, we don't work together. You're not going to see me through the day. And do you have any idea what I work with? I'm pretty much getting ugly visual flashbacks of Jabba the Hut checking out Leia in her lil' brown leather outfit in Return of the Jedi. Pretty comparable. Plus I really need to add something to my already low self esteem and self-consciousness. What if someone sees the string or it emphasizes my already extremely large ass? OMG! Crazy, horn-dog funeral director Nicky B can come in and I could accidently show the string. I don't think so. I DON'T THINK SO! And what is it that you would really see through my pants if the "string" wasn't visible? Do guys have some kind of Thong-Dar or something? Thong-DAR the BARBARIAN!!!!! by Hanna-Barbear-it-all. Is that what we've come to as a society? Men searching asses everywhere for thongs? Now women everywhere can be more paranoid when they catch a guy starring at their ass! And women, do we ever ask the men to wear the string? "Hey, bring out the leopard print baby, that is soooooooo schexy!" Unless we own a leather whip and have chains hanging from our bed posts underneath our mirror clad chandelier (I'm not speaking from experience, honest) or own a full collection of Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies, then NO, WE DON'T! And I confess that the only time I ever considered wanting to buy a thong was when I found a NY Yankees one. Perfect head game...Husband the Bo-Sox fan teases for me to wear the thong and out pops MLB rivalry greatness! A total slap in the face! Lord have mercy there is a god! You created someone who invented the Yankees thong, this after Superman and Transformers Underoos! I could replace my whole wardrobe with Yankees thongs and he'd never want to see me in one again. HAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!! OK so let's fast-forward ahead to where my naive stupidity falls in. You were waiting for it, I know. Well, once upon a time it comes to be time for the husband and I to go away on vacation. I have the bag already packed and he comes home from work and asks, are you bringing any you-know-whats? YEAH, don't worry they're there and you can even check if you want! Goddamn Bastard SOB HATE YOU! I didn't really say the latter sentence, but I totally thought it, really. So anywho, vacation goes along pretty well and enjoyable until Friday comes, the last day of our vacation. We're going to our destination in Big Rapids and my husband happens to drive by one of those stupid, generic chain restaurants that serves Buffalo wings. "I feel like wings," he says. So I'm thinking why the hell would we go to Michigan to eat something that only our state is known for and that we know how to make RIGHT? But me being the good wife was like, well if that's what you're craving, then let's stop. Remember, I'm THE GOOD WIFE! So we get inside and they're like we only have seats at the bar area, is that OK? Sure that's fine, no problem. Well, all the tables in the area, not just at the bar, are really tall and therefore have really tall chairs. You know, the ones that short, stubby people like me and my 5-foot tall mother have to basically climb up into. Well we're sitting there. I'm drinking my beer so is the husband. The waiter takes our order and the dumbass brings us out the wrong thing. But we were nice and took it anyway because he was annoyingly being overly apologetic. Well we just start to eat and this woman comes up to me, shakes my hand and introduces herself. I'm like Ok WTF? But I tell her my name. Mind you, before I continue, not to put anyone down or anything, but this lady wasn't exactly the high pillar of society. Her hair was straggley, she had short jean cut-off shorts and a tank top probably from an old Bengals concert and didn't exactly have the whitest, brightest most kemp of smiles. Now you have the visual and here it comes: She crouches and whispers to me: "Um you're thong is showing and there's a young boy behind you that keeps starring and laughing, so you may want to go do something about it. It's not appropriate for a young boy to be looking at. But don't worry it's happened to me before too, you just have to be careful." Well I must have went 10 shades of red literally because it instantaneously got 20 degrees hotter in that room. I felt behind me and OMG, my blouse had crept up and my jeans down because of the tall stool and there is was...the F-IN STRING!!!!!! "I'm so sorry, I didn't even feel it," I replied to her. Which I obviously DIDN'T or would have done something about it. Now I'm like this thong pedofile or something! I'm this evil, twisted bitch with the agenda to destroy all innocent youth out there by exposing my thong! So immediately I switch chairs and tell the hubby, OMG, ,we have to leave. I'm sorry I will find a place for you to eat your food. I can't eat now OMG We have to go and we have to go NOW!!!!! So I try to non-chalantly ask the waiter to bring us boxes. "You're going already? You didn't eat anything! It's because I screwed up your order isn't it? I totally insulted you. Did I insult you?" Seriously, this guy is going on and on and all I want to say is SHUT THE F UP AND GET ME MY GODDAMN BOX AND THE BILL BITCH! I'm trying to keep it together, but I can feel every f-in chick in the room starring at me! I couldn't get out of there too fast as we enter the 103-degree parking lot (literally by the way). I'm so upset I feel like I'm going to puke. I'm about to cry my eyes out but I'm still in shock at the same time. I start to ramble: F-in Michigan F-in Michigan. I hate this Mother F-in State! They think I'm trying to molest all their children with my stupid, disgusting thong! I hope they take their GMs and crash them into a pole those m-fers! You notice I've seen like 2 Hondas and 1 Toyota the entire f-in week those M-FERS! I hate this place! I hate MICHIGAN! So we drive off and we end up at a brewery that I originally wanted to go eat at anyway, and tried to drown my sorrows in beer while sitting in another tall bar stool that at least HAD A BACK BITCHES! I was now unexposed. Well, while that was a horrifying experience that I defined as my vacation-destroying moment, I later thought that perhaps things happen for a reason. Perhaps now f-in Michiganers, Michigaans, Michiginians, what-ever-the-hell won't ever wear thongs again. There'll be a huge religious movement and thongs will be censored and burned state-wide. Or maybe it happened because it needed to be my mission to tell all you women out there to tell your husbands and your boyfriends, your customers, your pimps...that I'm not doin' the thong, th-thong, thong, thong. To all you men out there, in the wise and harmonious words of my main man Billie Joel, instead of making your women wear a thong to turn you on, tell them intead, "I love you just the way you are." Thong or no thong, we are beautiful, sexy people and we don't need any extra frosting for a few extra kicks and thrills. Have respect for your women and leave the string for cleaning your teeth!
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