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September 17, 2003

Forget That Bloody Thong Song

I don't hold grudges against people who choose to wear thongs. Really, I don't. I mean, I personally don't see the benefit in having a slice of silk string wedged up the crack of my ass, but I see that there really is an apparent desire for such apparel (Ha ha, I made myself laugh there). I guess it's cool to waddle around town as if you're trying to cradle a group of Pringles between your butt cheeks, attracting gaggles of men in the process. I have enough trouble keeping my own underwear from bunching up and causing wedgies on a daily basis, thank you very much. But like I said, I don't hold grudges against thong-loving women (...And men?). Some of them are my best friends.

Anyways, my real issue isn't with the actual thong. It's with the women to insist on buying thong-shaped Maxi pads for riding their own Crimson Tide. Doesn't this bother anyone else? Excuse me, but I don't think that anyone who's going to be spending the week feeling bloated, wiped out, and bleeding all over has any business wearing a thong. Where is the freaking pad supposed to go in the first place? It's gotta be even thinner than the freaking string--God... You are not any more attractive wearing a thong and a thong shaped pantyliner. Pull out some ratty, grandma-shaped underwear and bleed in peace while devouring a gallon of Ben and Jerry's. Please.

Yes, I have issues.

Just ignore them and continue on with your business.

posted at 6:25 p.m.

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