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March 20, 2008

How I Learned To Quit Worrying and Love the Thong

In today's issue of Women's MagWatch, the blog princess perused (the things I do for you people) an issue of a women's health mag and found that, as in the seamy underworld of men's reading material, "health" seems to be a polite euphenism for "Do me harder, baby... do me NOW".

Hey. Sex is healthy, isn't it? And words have meaning. The princesses' fave entry (besides the one with the lead-in, "Mentally stripping the pool boy?") was this:

My boyfriend and I have different preferences in lingerie. [Ed. note: Hmmm... ya think?] I like sexy but tasteful pieces; he's a fan of garter belts and crotchless panties. How can I dress to turn him on but still feel comfortable in my own skin-er, nighties?

- Gail

To which several snarky replies seemed apropos:

1. Dear Gail: have you ever considered moving to Saudi Arabia?

2. Gail:

He's a man. Quit whining and order the crotchless u-trau already.

3. Dear Gail:

Men like fantasy, variety, the thrill of the chase and at least the illusion that their options are still open. Women like men who are emotionally available; who commit to making the relationship work. But everything in life has a price tag.

If you expect him to listen to you blather on about your feelings don't want him to stray
, it's called "Reciprocity, bay-bee"....

Meanwhile in other news, it's good to see that our brave, murdering, childlike troops are not being depraved deprived by an uncaring BushReich:

Pakistan was the dry run for my current Extended Practical Exercise. I remembered what I figured I'd need but didn't and *did* need but forgot, so I packed the big-item gotta-haves and figured I'd visit the local BX/PX to pick up anything I'd overlooked. Or which happened to break in transit.

My soap dish was a casualty. No problem, I thought -- what's easier to find in a PX/BX than that quintessential item of military hygienic equipment, the plastic soap dish?

Now those of you at home, don't shout out the only obvious answer... thongs:

The PX/BX got eight soap dishes in yesterday. Along with two boxes of designer thongs in designer colors [Cassie -- your e-mail about thongs had *nothing* to do with it].


And while we're on the subject, we have absolutely NO desire to find out what a "buttstock" is.

TMI, my friend.

Just as an aside, you have to love how the NY Times applies 'logic-and-facts' to the issue of marital fidelity and promptly deduces that 2+2 does, in fact, equal 5:

It’s all been done before, every snickering bit of it, and not just by powerful “risk-taking” alpha men who may or may not be enriched for the hormone testosterone. It’s been done by many other creatures, tens of thousands of other species, by male and female representatives of every taxonomic twig on the great tree of life. Sexual promiscuity is rampant throughout nature, and true faithfulness a fond fantasy. Oh, there are plenty of animals in which males and females team up to raise young, as we do, that form “pair bonds” of impressive endurance and apparent mutual affection, spending hours reaffirming their partnership by snuggling together like prairie voles or singing hooty, doo-wop love songs like gibbons, or dancing goofily like blue-footed boobies.

Yet as biologists have discovered through the application of DNA paternity tests to the offspring of these bonded pairs, social monogamy is very rarely accompanied by sexual, or genetic, monogamy. Assay the kids in a given brood, whether of birds, voles, lesser apes, foxes or any other pair-bonding species, and anywhere from 10 to 70 percent will prove to have been sired by somebody other than the resident male.

As David P. Barash, a professor of psychology at the University of Washington in Seattle, put it with Cole Porter flair: Infants have their infancy; adults, adultery. Dr. Barash, who wrote “The Myth of Monogamy” with his psychiatrist-wife, Judith Eve Lipton, cited a scene from the movie “Heartburn” in which a Nora Ephronesque character complains to her father about her husband’s philanderings and the father quips that if she’d wanted fidelity, she should have married a swan. Fat lot of good that would have done her, Dr. Barash said: we now know that swans can cheat, too. Instead, the heroine might have considered union with Diplozoon paradoxum, a flatworm that lives in gills of freshwater fish. “Males and females meet each other as adolescents, and their bodies literally fuse together, whereupon they remain faithful until death,” Dr. Barash said. “That’s the only species I know of in which there seems to be 100 percent monogamy.” And where the only hearts burned belong to the unlucky host fish.

Those who inexplicably chose fidelity over philandering being roughly comparable to that noble creature, the infantile parasitic flatworm fused for life to the gills of a random freshwater fish. Who was it who quipped that conservatism is a refusal to think?

The wag.

Posted by Cassandra at March 20, 2008 07:45 AM

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Three points:

1) Lingerie. The basic question Gail needs to ask herself is who is she wearing it for. If she's wearing it for herself, to feel sexy and desirable in front of a mirror, knock yourself out girl. Wear what you like. If you're attempting to get your man's motor running, it occurs to me that perhaps you should wear what he's into. If it's a big deal to you that you hate what he likes, then wear nothing. Guys like that too.

Personally, lingerie is ok with me, but I prefer silks mostly (on my WIFE people, not on me :P ). But I can take it or leave it. As I said, guys like au natural as well.

2) Thongs. Cass... are you sure he didn't mean SHOWER THONGS? Cause I know some people call flip-flops 'thongs' (for some reason I've never figured out). I've known PX's to carry shower thongs, but I can't recall one stocked with butt floss.

3) Monogamy. If the best excuse you can give for violating your marriage vows is "well, only parasitic flatworms are truly monogamous anyway," then your not just a sad excuse for a man (or woman for that matter), but you are priding yourself in the fact that a worm has better morals than you? Nice.

Posted by: MikeD at March 20, 2008 09:58 AM

What a piece of work is a man!
how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty!
in form and moving how express and admirable!
in action how like a parasitic tapeworm!

Posted by: Gill Snakespeare, Taxonomic Twig at March 20, 2008 10:26 AM

re: #2

I take my opportunities where I can find them. Bill so rarely gives me an opening :p

Posted by: Cassandra at March 20, 2008 10:28 AM

Sexual promiscuity is rampant throughout nature, and true faithfulness a fond fantasy.

Do you know what else is rampant throughout nature, Cass?

Humans eating everything below us on the food chain. Plants, animals, even tree bark from the French maritime for its anti-oxygenation qualities.

If people like the natural world so much, then surely they are not against the jungle laws of survival of the fittest. Which means if they are not fit nor have military power, we get to eat them, right, Cass?

Posted by: Ymarsakar at March 20, 2008 11:37 AM

Well, what can you expect from newspapers and "health" magazines for women? Try reading something serious, perhaps a novelist.

Let’s pretend, for purely rhetorical purposes, that I—an American male journalist—wrote a travel book about a quest for sensuality and spiritual growth. Let’s say that the plot of my book could be briefly summarized as follows:
As I enter my 30s, I find myself emotionally unsatisfied. I have achieved professional success as a writer, I own a new house, and my wife is ready to have kids, but somehow it all just feels wrong in a way I can’t quite identify. Thus befuddled—and given to random jags of weeping and self-pity—I elect to assuage my unhappiness by shacking up with a cuter, younger writer-actress woman from New York.

Soon, I come to love the cute, young writer-actress in a way I could never love my wife. But then, due to social and personal uncertainty, I start picking fights with the writer-actress, who isn’t reciprocating my emotional intensity or sexual appetite. Meanwhile, my wife is making the divorce contentious because (for reasons I can’t seem to fully grasp) she is angry, and wants my assets and royalties. Since sparring with the increasingly disinterested writer-actress isn’t yielding the love and satisfaction I want from the relationship, I decide—amid further jags of weeping and self-pity—to settle my divorce, quit my job, take a year off and wander the world in search of sensual pleasure and spiritual epiphany.

I gather this is a bestseller, so you know it has to be good.

Posted by: Grim at March 20, 2008 12:04 PM

Grim, that book sounds like the genre I call "bodice rippers", but in a more modern millieu. Does the book have a picture of Fabio dressed in a pirate shirt and pantaloons on the dustjacket?

These books are to women what Mack Bolan/Zane Grey books are to men.

As to lingerie, its all about reciprocity. Ladies, if you want us to dress up formally and take you out dancing, to the theatre, or to the ballet, then dressing up the way we like in the bedroom is only fair.

The naughty schoolgirl outfit always did it for me, but garters and bustiers have much to commend them as well.

Posted by: a former european at March 20, 2008 07:51 PM

I have heard that sexual promiscuity is rampant throughout nature, and true faithfulness a fond fantasy. Yet here we are. As in love as the first time you brought me my agenda in those garters and black hose... you randy little page you.

How bout let's play our thong?

Posted by: Elliot Spitzer at March 20, 2008 08:20 PM

Instead of playing our thong, can we thing the thong inthead?

Posted by: HomefrontSix at March 20, 2008 10:43 PM

And while we're on the subject, we have absolutely NO desire to find out what a "buttstock" is.


I take my opportunities where I can find them. Bill so rarely gives me an opening.

Tsk. I gave you an opening the size of Mammoth Cave and you turn inconstant...

As an aside, shower clogs are usually referred to as flip-flops or tabii.

Posted by: BillT at March 21, 2008 07:42 AM

Bill ~ I noticed that too. She's much more consistent in real life. Especially when there are Blue Hawaiians involved. Though there were no thongs that night - at least none that *I* saw...

Posted by: HomefrontSix at March 21, 2008 03:43 PM

There was, however, a question as to the size of the *crabcakes* -- or so I've heard.

Posted by: Sly2017 at March 22, 2008 03:15 AM

*peering around for the eleven-foot pole with which I wouldn't touch that line*

Posted by: BillT at March 22, 2008 06:33 AM

It's a lot more innocent than it sounds. Thankfully, no actual crab cakes were harmed in the cracking of that joke :p

However, like Bill, I ain't touching that one with an eleven foot pole *either*.

Posted by: Cass at March 22, 2008 07:32 AM

Did someone say "crabcakes?" Yeeow! Food of the Gods.

Posted by: Mark at March 22, 2008 08:16 PM

Great googly-moogly! I had completely forgotten about the crabcakes!

Mark ~ I don't know that you would have liked those crabcakes...

Posted by: HomefrontSix at March 22, 2008 08:42 PM

Mark ~ I don't know that you would have liked those crabcakes...

Ahhhhh -- thus Cassie's disclaimer that "...no actual crabcakes were harmed..."

Grabbed the Cinnamon Swirl instead of the Old Bay again, didja?

Posted by: BillT at March 23, 2008 05:50 AM

Having spent a good 16 years down in Maryland, it didn't take me too long to develop an obsessive compulsion for that ambrosia from the bay.

These yokels from Penna. don't appreciate such delicacies.

Posted by: Boquisucio at March 25, 2008 06:46 PM