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 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. Read More »

There is a God!

Or, that’s what I would be saying if I was a dude upon learning about rubbot.com and their plans to design a revolutionary new sex toy aimed at men.

Hands-free orgasms! It’s like having a girlfriend — minus the girl! Which, depending on who you ask, isn’t always a bad thing.

The design kind of reminds me of those water snakes I had as a kid. They fold into themselves and move very fluidly…much like…genitals? Perfect! This is called the “Inch Worm Effect” and is effective at getting dudes off. And fast.

The guys behind Rubbot are looking for beta-testers too! Know a guy who’s in a rut? Be a pal and send the info along…at least you won’t have to hear about he’s not getting any for awhile. Read More »

Public bathrooms are gross. I am not some freakish germaphobe, but even I realize that sharing a toilet with hundreds of strangers (especially drunk ones) is not fun. Or sanitary. Even if you believe what Dr. Oz (the awesome doc on Oprah) said about toilet seats being pretty clean surfaces, the rest of the situation is not. The floor, the flusher, the tampon trash can that people probably push open with their used….things.

I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Anyways, I don’t know about you but I know that I am pretty careful when using the bathroom. I lay TP down on the seat before I sit down, flush the toilet with my foot, and never (EVER!) put my handbag on the floor.

But until I saw this new invention, I never even considered the gross factor that is the toilet paper dispenser.

Who knows who/what has touched that thing? And the long strip of paper hanging out from the roll when you get in there? Lord knows where that’s been dangling. I don’t even want to think about it.

Okay, I just did and now I’m getting sick again. Read More »