I’ve never actually been in a multi-floor department store with elevators and live (or recorded) announcements to let you know where the elevator was letting you off. I wouldn’t even understand the concept without having seen the ancient British sitcom Are You Being Served? but now that I have, it also informs my comprehension of this joke:
I can’t make out the cartoonist’s signature, but the cartoon appeared in the November 1943 issue of the What’s Cookin’! comic magazine.
Chelsea Summers, whose blogging has grown sporadic in recent years, remains worth waiting for. Here’s a pair of recent posts about the power of fancy and expensive lingerie:
Since that Friday in September, I have not stopped shopping for lingerie. I am breathy with the magic of it. It’s a giddy, girly contrivance, these dreamy imaginings of silk, nylon and lace. I have spent altogether too much money on these matching whispery sets (and I’ve way too many in shades of crimson, scarlet, cerise and bubblegum pink). But I love them, love them for their precious glow, their caress under the globes of my breasts, the way they hug my hips. I love them for the potential of showing them to others, lovers or no. I love them for their erotic promise to myself.
Make no mistake: there is great power in the wearing of good unmentionables. I defy any woman (regardless of how she comes by her womanhood) to put on a perfectly fitting bra and matching panties and not feel girded for battle. Lingerie may look like sweet nothings–and the best lingerie does–but if it fits right, it acts like internal Kevlar.
These days, I know what I want: caressing unmentionables, intriguing men, luxurious sex, sparkly conversation, the comingling of the previous, and the quiet satisfaction of the door shutting when it’s over. I don’t know where I’m going with this juggling fine experimental phase, this sexual walkabout. I don’t know that it matters. I do know it’s not settling and that it fits me, exquisitely.
I guess this is supposed to be lingerie, but it’s so fancy I literally can’t imagine when it ought to be worn in real life. No matter, Raquel by a frog pond is all the excuse we need:
I hear that the problem with being a cougar is that younger men these days have no manners whatsoever. But on the bright side, some of them can be taught manners:
This infographic pretty much nails the underwear selection process at our house. Or, at least, it nails mine pretty well. The Nymph’s flowchart is, I think, somewhat different from this one; her underwear selection process follows some similarly lengthy and slow-to-execute algorithm, but in fairness there’s less buying of new stuff on her flowchart.
They thought it would be fun and sexy to cut each others’ undies off. With a knife. After several adult beverages. It didn’t end so well:
After having a few drinks together, the couple started to get intimate in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, the Expressen newspaper reports.
Not satisfied with traditional approaches to disrobing, the couple decided that it might be more fun to remove one another’s underwear using a knife.
After the 47-year-old man successfully sliced the stockings off his girlfriend, she gingerly gripped the handle of the knife and took a shot at cutting her boyfriend’s boxers right off his body.
Unfortunately for the man, the 36-year-old woman apparently lacked the same level of skill as her boyfriend when it came to handling sharp objects.
Rather than slashing through his underwear, the woman instead stabbed her boyfriend in the thigh.
“From what we understand, it was a sex act that went a bit wrong,” Maud Johansson of the VästerÃ¥s police told the newspaper.
The Nymph and I went to see Whip It (starring Ellen Page) the day before yesterday, and we pronounced it good.
If there’s anybody out there wondering what her bottom looks like, I must report that it does not appear (unclad) in this movie. However, without giving too much away, I can report that viewers are treated to an extended scene in which her bottom is on athletic display in soaking wet underwear.
Why, yes, yes I do feel like a dirty old man for noticing, thank you for asking!
