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 »

T.G.I.F.

Remember when that meant a night of Full House and Family Matters? Now it just means a night of heavy drinking followed by a day of serious sleeping. And I still love it just as much.

This week was a long one. We lost Estelle Getty. Our boyfriend, Christian Bale, was arrested for yelling at his mother. And we found out that all the not-so-hard work we are putting into college isn’t worth crap anymore. Awesome.

But even though another week has passed, crazy girls are still around, we are still too picky when it comes to picking boys, and freaky guys are still all about peeing on us in bed. WTF?

Maybe we should stick to being single? It is far too hard to find a tall guy anyway. And getting into a relationship only means adding another ex to the list…who you will never be able to avoid thanks to our generation’s problem with oversharing.

Ugh. I need a shot.

At least boys are starting to appreciate more comfortable undies. I’ll keep that thought close to my heart as I enjoy yet another awesome summer weekend.

I have done sloppy second with a stripper. On stage. No, not on purpose.

I am not easily intimidated by guys. While I wouldn’t say that I have them completely figured out, I am confident with myself and with them to the point that I can talk to nearly any type of guy in any situation. Except for one.

Male strippers.

I had no idea that I was actually afraid of them until the night of the sloppy second – which was at Lucky Cheng’s. My friends and I had planned a night of bad food (seriously, I heard that the food there sucks) and a fabulous “dragdoll” wait staff. But instead of fabulousity, we learned that 1) they do not serve dinner on Fridays and 2) we would instead be watching a male review.

One of my friends and I wanted to leave but we were out voted and I panicked as we were led behind the curtain into a smallish room filled with sweat, humidity and about 75 women, half of whom were screaming at the mostly naked guys as though they were having the most fun ever.

Those guys not only smell your fear – they seem to be drawn to it. They loved our collective panic (at least mine and my friend’s) so much that they put our group on stage for the remainder of the show. This was all before I had adequate time to even get a little buzzed to help me deal with the situation. Read More »

Remember the old days when boys and a select group of ladies would buy over-sized jeans and then belt them up far below their waists? There was nothing like watching a boy waddle down the hall, trying with all his might to hold those damn pants up. Or the shot of his unattractive boxer shorts as he bent down to tie his loosely laced sneaker.

Ah. The good old days.

Just like the days of the Mix Tape and the VCR, baggy jeans and the sagging that came with them are over. Maybe people realized that sagging/exposing your undergarments was about as flattering as those girls with their thongs hanging out, or maybe people decided to reduce their Carbon Footprints by minimizing the amount of denim they wasted, but sometime in the last few years baggy jeans left the scene and super tight jeans made their debut.

Thank you, Pete Wentz.

Now everyone – from the super trendy to the super skater-y – is sporting the skinny jean. And I don’t need to explain to you that sagging skinny jeans is pretty much impossible. Not that I ever understood the purpose of sagging, anyway. But some people did…and thought it was necessary to bring it back, despite the obvious logistical complications. Read More »

It’s a common known fact that celebrities like Britney Spears go “commando,” aka deciding they are not really in the underwear mood for the day. Yet, somehow, they still manage to forget and flash their va-jay-jays at the paparazzi. Intelligence is not their strongest characteristic.

For some reason, I thought this trend was merely among the rich and famous. Boy, was I wrong. During a recent get together with friends, I found out that many girls I know opt to never wear underwear, even with clothing like jeans.

“It’s a very freeing feeling,” said one girl.

“Yeah, my doctor told me not to wear underwear because of the risk for bacteria and infections,” said another friend.

Really? My immediate thought was, what kind of sham doctor do you go to?

Maybe I am just being a prude and have become too attached to that extra layer of cloth between my private parts and the world. But really, no underwear, EVER?

Once I looked into it, my friends may not be so crazy after all. First of all, there are tons of reasons to be careful when wearing a thong because of the problems it can cause your nether-regions. Read More »

I went commando to my high school prom.

This wasn’t an attempt for post-prom easy access. And I wasn’t trying to be sexy for my date.

It just so happened that I couldn’t find a single thong or no-show panty that didn’t expose a visible panty line in my dress. Under certain material, even seamless panties won’t do the trick.

So what’s a girl to do?

Fortunately, some European designer loathes panty lines just as much as I do and has remedied this chronic problem. I introduce to you… the C-string! Read More »