Tuesday, July 28

Boys are gross

The other day I forgot to take my Ipod with me when I went to clean. I always bring my Ipod with me. That way I don't have to think for myself. This time I had to do my own thinking. As I was cleaning, I was thinking about cleaning. More specifically, I was thinking about cleaning bathrooms. I have cleaned many bathrooms, and I have reached this conclusion: boys are gross. I don't mind cleaning bathrooms, but I am continually grossed out by what I see when I go into the men's bathroom. Mostly because of urinals. Apparently aiming is difficult. I constantly find puddles on the floor. One time I found a puddle on the top of the urinal. That takes some talent I must say. I always have to wash the walls around the urinals. Standing up to pee is messy work. Why do boys brag about it? I often find gum in the urinals. Surprise! Gum doesn't flush, if they had even bothered to try to flush. You know what else doesn't flush? Paper towel. Neither do pennies. They do cause the urinal to overflow though. Boys don't seem to flush urinals very often. Urinals drain anyway, why flush? Sometimes they don't flush the toilets. Boys pee standing up, so you know what's in the toilet. It often seems that they don't flush because they thought they had something to be proud of and wanted to show it off. It's like the redneck joke, you know you're a redneck when you leave the bathroom and say "ya'll better come see this before I flush it." I didn't want to see it.
The women's bathroom is not all roses either. There is always paper towel on the floor, and soap on the counter and hair in the sink. Occasionally I have to pick up a tampon wrapper from off the floor. Sometimes even pee on the seat. But never pee on the walls or puddles on the floor. Girls pee sitting down. Not bragging; fact.

Wednesday, July 8

Bunny in the park

I really didn't intend to write another fashion blog this soon. I really didn't, but the event of the Canada Day celebration in the park left me with no choice. I had to write another fashion blog. What's a girl to do when she sees something that atrocious? Well, write about it obviously.

I was not aware that Canada Day was an occasion for costumes. Not costumes like wearing Canada t-shirts or hats with a flag cape. That doesn't count; that's just being patriotic at an appropriate time. No, I mean costumes with ears. Let me set the scene: we're standing in line waiting to get caramel apples and cotton candy. What's a day in the park without sugar? The line was at a stand still, so I did what I always do when I am in a crowd of people; I looked for things about other people to criticize. I realize that it's small and petty of me, but there are so many people that need to be criticized and I am willing to do it. Anyway, there I was looking around, not seeing much to mock, but then it appeared. Well, she appeared. In a costume. I'll start at the top. The very top. With the bunny ears. Yes, she was wearing bunny ears. Pink ones. I'm really not sure how bunny ears go with celebrating the day our country became a country, but she saw the connection. The bunny ears were not the end of the costume, no there was more. Unfortunately, not a lot more. The rest of the costume consisted of a skimpy pink tank top and very short shorts. Very, very short. I think she must have altered them herself. You don't normally see shorts that short. Yes people, there was cheek. Quite a lot. Definately not in a good way. She was going for the whole Playboy bunny look and failed. She most definately did not have the figure to attempt the Playboy bunny look. Most of us don't, and I'm not faulting her for that, but most of us know better than to try to work the bunny look with figures that would be more suited for the, um, well, a larger, rounder animal look. I really didn't need to see that much of her, but it did give me something to write about, and for that, girl with the rabbit ears, I thank you.

Wednesday, July 1

The rights of thongs

There has been a request for the topic of this blog. I am happy to oblige. Feel free to make requests in the future.

I have to start this rant by revisiting the yoga pant issue. I believe I said something along the lines of yoga pants are really tight. Wedged right up there tight. So tight you can't wear a g-string tight. Ya. I remember saying that. Apparently the word has not gotten out yet. I saw this girl the other day wearing yoga pants. It was in the park, so was excusable. The issue was not that she was wearing yoga pants. The issue was what she was wearing with the yoga pants, or to be more precise, under the yoga pants. No, she was not wearing a g-string, she should have been, but she wasn't. She was wearing bikini briefs. I know. I could see every line. Now I realize that people wear panties, I have been known to wear them on occasion myself, but I don't have to see that you wear them. That brings me to the topic of this blog; thongs. A thong is an important item of lingerie. Every woman should own several. Here's why; VPL (visible panty line) is bad. It ruins the line of your pants. It draws the wrong kind of attention to your ass. It looks so much better if your pants lie smoothly with no interruption. Hence the thong, or g-string if you would rather. You can wear underwear, your ass looks amazing, and you don't have to declare to the world "look, I'm wearing panties!" I suppose for some people it would be an unusual event and they would want to declare it. Anyway, the thing about wearing a thong is that it is very definately possible to wear one incorrectly. Let's say there is a girl wearing a rather tight outfit. It's not a far stretch for the imagination, is it? Let's also say she decided that morning to wear a thong. Unfortunately, that thong is two sizes too small. Now the line of her outfit is ruined at her hips because there are indentations where her too-tight thong is digging into her flesh. Not attractive in any way. Now she's declaring to the world "look, I'm wearing a thong!" Not a good declaration. Now, instead of the tight outfit, let's say this girl is wearing well-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. She drops something and bends over to pick it up, and, pow! You get a full view of her thong. You look around to see if you were the only one who noticed. No, everyone around noticed too, and you see the looks of horror and disgust on their faces. They weren't ready for that at this time of day. They feel their senses have been assaulted. She could have prevented this ungodly view by wearing her thong properly. Keep it in your pants people! I don't need to know what colour your thong is. I really don't. You probably don't want to know what colour mine is either. I keep it in my pants. I'll tell you if you really feel that you need to know, but I won't force it on you. I wear it properly.