Archive for April 10th, 2008

Dresses: helping me flash my junk at people since last summer.

Life sometimes hands you little surprises.  Like right now I am drinking hot chocolate that I made at the office (Cadbury, OMG), and it’s been sitting for a little while, but I take a sip anyway.  Then I get a nice mouthfull of the skin that has settled on the top of the drink.  It’s slimy, and it’s sort of rubbery, and it tastes like a gelatenous little layer of not-quite pudding in my mouth.  Nature, why do you make disgusting skins on soups and beverages?!  Soup skin I don’t find to be too bad, but drink skin is sick.  It has the makeup that’s too close to REAL skin.  What the hell do you DO with the skin, too?  Do I skim it off and throw it out?  It’s all sloppy and wet, and the damn skin usually breaks apart before I can get all of it off.  Do I just try and stir it back into the drink?  No.  The skin doesn’t melt back into the drink, it just chunks up my drink.  If I wanted chunky chunks I’d eat a cookie, or maybe some chunky peanut butter.  You know what, I wouldn’t eat chunky peanut butter because I hate chunky peanut butter!  I hate chunks where I feel there should be none!  Boo to chunks!
Also, I’m wearing more skirts at work and i’ve come to discover that when you walk 20 min to get to work, sometimes when you take your jacket off your whole VAG is just like “out there” because your skirt has risen up.  Ladies, check your junk in the elevator!  Pull those skirts down.  I was THISCLOSE to flashing some underpants this morning, but thank the sweet Gods that I remembered, “hey, this dress is a little tight on the hips, maybe I ought to just take a look at my “situation” and BAM, my skirt is maybe a good 2″ higher than anyone would deem “work appropriate” because at this point I can feel that my ass is pretty much half showing, but thank the GODS again I still have my jacket MOSTLY on.
Being a chick is hard!  You’re always checking to make sure your vag and boobs aren’t showing.  I guess if I’d just stick to pants I really wouldn’t have this problem, but as I’ve come to realize over the past year, a dress is pretty much a whole outfit done for you.  There’s no messing with what pants match what top, it’s just like SHAZAM you are dressed just by lifting the garment over your head.  You really can’t beat that.  It’s almost like a moo moo, but you won’t end up on Springer finding out that your husband is actually a bisexual female that likes horses a little too much.  Man, I could write slogans for clothing.  Pshhhhhht.

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