sad thongs say so much.

believe it or not, a friend of mine was digging in the archives of this blog.

"tell me about this ass monkey who called you a bitch at dinner!" she barked.

"must i?"

"yes, you must. no wait - did he have a girlfriend?"

as luck would have it, he did. "yes."

"tell me about her instead."

little-mr-in-constant-need-of-attention-and-praise's girlfriend's catch phrase for the earlier part of the evening was, "oh! is it ever hot! i really need to remove my sweater!"

once she had garnered enough attention of her own, she finally did remove said sweater. everyone finally saw what her big buildup was about: rising a good 5 inches about her low-cut jeans was a diamond-encrusted thong. it caught the light in the most magical way: beaming tiny rainbows up to her proudly-peroxided smile.

"wait," my friend interjected. "diamonds?! diamonds or cubic zirconias?" she seemed mad.

"oh, i don't know. cubic zirconias. rhinestones. whatever."

"okay. fine. get your story straight."

so here was the cubic-zirconia-encrusted thong. she pranced it around the kitchen, like a proud show pony, tittering all the way.

even though the median age of the men present at the dinner was probably 45, each one of them poked, prodded, and snapped away at the beautiful, semiprecious stone-encrusted thong.

[clop, clop] "tee hee. stop it you guys! this is the LAST time i'm going to wear a bad pair of underwear!"

sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain has a chance to plan anything. "who are you kidding? YOU'RE the one who put them on!"

within minutes, the sweater was back on. i guess she felt a little chill in the air.