the thong: plot perpetrated by Tuck's® Medicated Pads?

Dear i+i:


My boyfriend wants me to wear thong underwear, but I find them really uncomfortable. Do you have a solution? - Bifurcated Backside

Sure thing, BB:

It's often been observed that men respond to visual stimulation, which takes the form of naughtywear; slutwear; whorewear; trampwear; hoochiewear; floozywear; hookerwear; streetwalkerwear; togs of the strumpet; concubine fashions; apparel of the fallen woman; minxwear; dragonladywear (for that Asian flavor); trollop threads; Jesus God, you look like a prostitute!; vampwear; tartwear; lady of the evening gowns; Jezebelia; wenchwear; nympho gear; courtesan clothes; painted lady vestments; St. Pauli girl get ups; ho-tards (really, these are just leotards, but the male brain turns everything whorish. This can also mean "retarded whores," so you should probably go ahead and verify which it is you're dealing with - dick-look before you dick-leap, am I right?); nun's habits; meter maid uniforms; spectacles (it honestly does not matter in the slightest what you're wearing - if you got on glasses, you are reduced [elevated?] in the male mind to Naughty Librarian or Hot For Teacher); slagwear; You're Not Leaving Any House of Mine Dressed Like That, Young Lady; naughty school girl (the kilt is like a dick-seeking missile to us - you put Sean Connery in a kilt and we'd still part the low-hanging Yeti-curtain of his man-satchel for some ass play - I'm talking about breeder dudes, here - gay guys, if I understand my cursory study of cliches correctly, like hairy nads to be like melting like candle wax out either leg of cut-off shorts - this is what Freddie Mercury tells me when he comes to me in my dreams. Which are in no way gay.); pretty much any uniform you could name - hospice care worker? yup. garbage collector? you bet. slaughterhouse sluice-cleaner? if this is even a thing, yeah; bondagewear (within reason - if it turns out stomach and involves a lot of fisting, then we'll take a pass); latex; aluminum foil; Saran Wrap®; um, let's see, burlap; a vest of raw chicken - for some of us, yeah; and sweaters. And every halloween costume currently available in the U.S. Oh, and in a pinch, if no apparel is available to you, you can always opt for the old standby of nakedness, which is a classic.

Point is this: where the getting of our rocks is concerned, the visual data you provide us is key. Speaking as a dude who is upwards of 85% straight (damn you, Freddie Mercury, for nightly luring me on shirtless dream picnics, and no-pants dream bike rides, and dream wrasslin'), I can report that I am actually of two minds where the thong is concerned.

On the one hand, they look awesome. When compared to the oft-maligned granny panty, the showcase provided by say an emerald green thong versus a threadbare and sagging pair of Band-Aid-colored cotton drawers, well this is no contest at all. The thong renders the already alluring female ass all the more magnetic by dividing it neat as a can be, creating a 50-yard line, if you will. And like football, anywhere there are borders to cross and territory to conquer, you will have captured our attention and aroused our interest. You can go ahead and insert your own riff on what else might have been aroused - we're not here to be making dick jokes, OK? We're HERE, BB, to try to HELP folks… Oh. Wait. Hold up. Sorry. We are totally here to make dick jokes. So yaddayadda 50-yard line yaddayadda - gonna spike it in the END ZONE, you know what I'm sayin'? Huh? Up top! Woo! No? Nobody? Very well, then.

On the OTHER hand, there is some portion of my mind - whenever I see a thong (for which I am always grateful, by the way, Wearer of Low Rise Jeans Over Thongs While Bending To Retrieve The Selsen Blue From The Bottom Shelf At The CVS Lady), I cannot avoid having a murmur in my mind that just keeps repeating: Assfloss.

Again: always happy to see a booty bethonged. HOWEVER, there is some portion of my mind that cannot shake the mantra: assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss, assfloss. Which can in my experience tend to undercut the erotic power of the thong, and by extension the thong wearer. Because once the Pandora's Box of assfloss is open, it is followed by visions of shit-encrusted lace, sawing back and forth with every step, shearing off ass hairs and the dingleberries thereon. It's not long before all you can see in your mind's eye is the sad, stretched-out elastic befouled by poo, gasping for a fresh breath of non-ass air, only to remain cheek-clamped and anus-ground. The shit-friction on these things has gotta be enough to burn clear through them sometimes, doesn't it? Aren't there stories circulating about overtaxed thongs pushed beyond their limits and going sling shot? With the dried little shit-pellets rocketing out of the pants and into the eyes of anybody with the misfortune to be shopping at the CVS that day? This has gotta happen sometimes, yeah? Ass David to Eye Goliath? Because, from a design standpoint, was not the assfloss inspired by the ancient weapon of the sling? I would be surprised if the thong remained contented with merely abrading the ass walls - I should think that a thong with any ambition would wanna launch some turd balls out of those pants and into the unwitting eyes of anybody in the Hair Care aisle. Perhaps there is even a kind of Sisterhood of the Traveling Underpants, Intent On Working Themselves Free of Ass Cracks to Fling Poo On the Unsuspecting.

And even if this never happened, not even once, the fact remains that this thing is in there like a goddamn bear scratching its back all goddamn day. Let's face it, fellas - if your lady stuffed a square of silk up her nose for eleven hours, how sincere are you gonna be when you say: "That is super-hot, baby"? OK, yes, IF you subscribe to Big Booger Bitches or White Hot Snot, then YES, you will be completely sincere in this. [Red Hot Snot is for bloody nose enthusiasts - those guys are freaky fucking pigs. Steer clear of those guys. - eds.]

But if your dude remains adamant on the point of your wearing assfloss despite the clear and present danger of shit-slinging it represents, you tell him that you totally will IF he will take one of those paper doilies, crumple it up, and hold it between his ass cheeks all day. If he makes it to lunch without screaming in agony from thong-burn, it'll be a miracle. By mid-morning, he'll be hauling his pants down and plucking that skid-marked doily out of there, I can guarantee you. And if he doesn't, that means that he's super-determined and you can maybe work out some kind of joint ass-custody, whereby you alternate between assfloss and the well-worn ass hammocks you prefer.

Or it could mean that he's into it. And if he's into having his asshole scraped at, in which case, eww - what are you doing with that guy? Nasty. Nasty, nasty Anus Scrubber Guy. Uch. Tuck some fucking sandpaper between there and walk the fuck away, sweetheart. Because once they get a taste for this kind of thing, their bunghole becomes not unlike the plant in Little Shop of Horrors - always hungry for more. More anus friction. Always with the anus friction, these guys.