A brief Valentine's Day gift guide

Only one month until Valentine's Day, people! Though I apparently missed the memo announcing that Valentine's Day had been renamed Make a Porno Day. For what other explanation could there be for giving gifts like this "Sexy Little Valentine" from Victoria's Secret:


















I don't even know what this is or where one is supposed to where this -- maybe Halloween? (In case you were wondering, the lower bit is actually a thong -- ouch -- and the heart wand comes with.)

Or this little (and I mean little) number from 2(x)ist's Love Me line? (Also, what is it with heart-shaped balloons in strategic places?)


















Full disclaimer: I saw the Love Me briefs and trunks on the TODAY Show and was "this close" to buying the spouse a few pairs, until I visited 2(x)ist's website. I love the spouse dearly, and think he's in pretty good shape, but I don't think I could have kept a straight face seeing him parade around in a bright red banana hammock with the words "Love Me" printed across them.

What happened to giving the one you love flowers, or chocolates, or jewelry -- or a vacuum cleaner -- for Valentine's Day?

Of bras and panties and going Commando

[Alternate titles: Miracle on 64th Street or Making Mountains Out of Mole Hills]

Ever since reading this article (about the A-cup crowd) and this other article (about finding the perfect bra) in The New York Times back in September, I have been dying to go see Linda The Bra Lady, in New York City, and have her team of expert bra fitters work their magic on me (or certain parts thereof), just like she did on Live with Regis and Kelly:



So, for my birthday, I made an appointment to go to Linda The Bra Lady's store, with my friend, G. And lo and behold, right there on 64th Street and Lexington Avenue in New York City, a miracle occurred. For how else can I possibly explain my ability to suddenly wear a C-cup (without the benefit of plastic surgery or pregnancy) -- and a form fitting C-cup at that? It was a miracle, I tell you -- or else the work of some very marketing-savvy bra manufacturers. (Evil, evil bra marketers.)

Whatever the reason, being professionally fitted (i.e., smooshed, or should I say, artfully arranged?) into one gorgeous bra after another, all of which looked great on, made me feel like a true C-cup -- a really pretty, sexy C-cup. Note: Being fitted for a bra -- or being a bra fitter for that matter -- is not for the faint of heart (or breast) or the modest. Without going into too much detail, let me just say, I have a much greater appreciation for how butchers manage to squeeze sausage into a casing and get it to look so good.

Sadly, while the bra fitting -- and acquisition -- was a great success (I totally heart you, Simone Perele!), I had no such luck with panties. Sure, lacy thongs and silky boy shorts look great -- on a hanger, or a Victoria's Secret model, both of which, when last I checked, didn't have buttocks. On me? Not so much.

And there was no way I was going Commando, a product no doubt inspired by Britney Spears, which apparently is the latest rage -- with boxes of the "invisible underwear" prominently displayed in front of the register at Linda The Bra Lady's.

Note to Her Look Enterprises: If I can see them, they are not invisible. (Her Look markets the Commando simultaneously as "invisible underwear" and "better than nothing.")

Despite a momentary underwear low, though, I consider the outing a tremendous success. (Did I mention that I am now a C-cup, albeit only in some marketing bizarro world.) I only wish Linda's also sold swimsuits.

Best Birthday Present Ever

Okay, maybe not "ever." The Nikon D70s the spouse and his mom got me a few years ago was pretty sweet. But if you are a football fan, specifically a NY* Giants** (7 - 1 and the best record in the NFC, baby!) football fan, with a good sense of humor, this gift is pretty hard to top, though the Jose Reyes t-shirt (Mets #7) in the Victoria's Secret box, which the spouse gave me for our anniversary, may have.

That said, though, I am extremely pleased to have received an official Brandon Jacobs (Giants running back, #27) t-shirt on this my natal day, as well as the official NFL-approved thongs (the tags on which promise "Satisfaction Guaranteed!"). I just had to promise the spouse that I would not pose for or post any pictures of me in said thongs, which, really, is not a problem. (Sorry Tommy.) Though we did toy with the idea of sticking them on the cats.

UPDATED 9:35 A.M.: A friend just wrote, "I would have thought the Obama win would have been the best birthday present ever." She does have a point. Am waiting for my limited edition t-shirt from the Obama campaign (for making a donation to the DNC on behalf of the Obama campaign), in the mean time, there is this:

Though really, apparel-wise, I am currently more excited about my Giants garb. : )

* Technically the New Jersey Giants
** I am also a Jets fan

Week 8 Jets, Giants recap (with thongs!)

Yeah, the New York Jets eked this one out to beat the now 1 - 6 Kansas City Chiefs 28 - 24 at home. But the now 6 -1 New York Giants looked a heckuva lot better in their 21 - 14 defeat of the now 5 - 2 Pittsburgh Steelers, at Heinz Field, no less.

You would have thought after throwing three interceptions, THREE, Brett Favre would have committed the Jets to another loss, but no. And you know who the Jets and Favre have to thank for that? Laveranues Coles, who caught a not terribly well thrown 15-yard touchdown pass from Favre with one minute left in regulation. Favre, who will probably get most of the glory for yesterday's narrow win over the Kansas City Chiefs (though shouldn't), should get down on his knees and thank Coles (who probably still misses Chad Pennington) for that catch.

Meanwhile in Pittsburgh... Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger threw not one, not two, not three but FOUR interceptions in yesterday's game against the New York Giants, pretty much dooming the throwback-uniform wearing Steelers to another one in the loss column.

But unlike the Jets, the Giants defense really got the job done yesterday afternoon -- and the offense (despite needing the help of the field goal team) didn't look too shabby either.

For the record, I will take Eli Manning over (the 39-year-old) Brett Favre AND Ben Roethlisberger any day. Bring it on!

Next week, the Jets take on the Buffalo Bills in Buffalo, which should be an interesting matchup (especially as I will be among Buffalo fans, albeit in Washington, D.C.), and the Giants "welcome" the now 5 - 3 Dallas Cowboys to Giants Stadium. Should be two good games, though I will probably be unable to watch.

(Btw, using thongs, instead of helmets, was the spouse's idea, and I am not so secretly hoping that he will get me one or both New York teams for my birthday next week, so I can properly support our teams.)

Thongs for the memory, a brief history

So what I want to know is when did thongs go from this...

to this?
Fortunately, there is Wikipedia. You can tell some enterprising (no doubt male) writer/researcher spent many long, hard hours coming up with this entry for "Thong (clothing)."

(Who knew that thongs, the clothing, were directly descended from loincloths and jock straps? Or that the word thong is from the Old English thwong, a flexible leather cord? Learn something new everyday. Though I think I will pass on the leather thongs, thank you very much. Oh, and for my two female readers who might actually care about the history of thong sandals, and remember when we used to call them that, you can read more here. Not to ruin the excitement but they were derived from traditional Japanese sandals.)

So why do I care about thongs of any kind? Well, I don't really, except that I read this post on my friend Dave S.'s blog yesterday, about the Republican National Committee's outfitting of its "Caribou Barbie" (aka Sarah Palin) with $150,000 in new duds -- and thongs happened to come up (or down) in the comments, which got me thinking.

I admit, I have at times been a bit curious as to who or what kind of person (besides strippers, call girls, prostitutes, and unselfconscious Brazilians) wears thongs and why. Why bother wearing anything? And why would you want a piece of (often itchy) fabric wedged between your buttocks like a piece of dental floss (hence the term butt floss), which, btw, would probably be more comfortable. (Note: the answer "so Bill Clinton will nail me" is no longer valid.)

First, a confession: Around my birthday about five years ago, after losing many pounds and wanting to spice things up a bit/show off my svelter figure, I told my mother, who had asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and happens to live in Paris, the lingerie and sexy undergarment capital of the world, to get me some thongs. Clearly a sign of a mid-life crisis. However, my mother was happy to oblige and purchased several lovely pairs for me, which, I should note, would have barely fit Malibu Barbie let alone me (and I am pretty petite).

After trying on two of the pretty strips of fabric, and experiencing immense discomfort, I believed my thong-wearing career was over. Or so I thought, until a couple weeks ago, when I noticed (gasp!) unsightly panty lines after donning my new workout/yoga-style pants. Not wanting to go all Britney, and after trying on several more modest options, I reached far, far back into my underwear drawer and retrieved... the thong. Enough said. (And no, Tommy, I WILL not be posting any pictures of myself in any type of thong. EVER.)

Though the experience did raise the question: aside from Victoria's Secret models, does anyone (let's stick to females, please) actually look good in a thong? 'Cause most of the women I've seen sporting thongs on the beach or at some pool or in the locker room at my gym should definitely not be. While I applaud their self confidence (or are they just delusional?), I could not and will not be doing the same any time soon.

And with that, I thong you for your attention and will be getting back to work.

For God and Underwear

So chances are, you don't go past Exits 14/15 on I-95N in Connecticut that much. It's a shame, really, because God is watching all those who do. And He wants all those motorists to know He cares. He is with them. How do I know this? He has a billboard telling me so. It's even signed "God." I didn't know He was into outdoor advertising, but what do I know? I know I should be comforted to know He has his eye on me and the other motorists on I-95N, but frankly, it's slowing down traffic, and I wonder how many motorists have gotten into accidents staring at that billboard when they should be focused on the road ahead. God knows.

And another thing, I know there's a writers' strike going on but who's brilliant idea was "What would Jesus REALLY do?" airing tonight on CNN? Is this REALLY a good idea? Do we REALLY need to hear Jerry Falwell's views on the war in Iraq (again) and how Jesus would have/would handle it? REALLY? At least they could have included Anderson Cooper. But no.

Moving right along...

So about two weeks ago, I take my daughter to her tae kwon do class, make myself as comfortable as possible on one of the metal benches in the waiting room, and crack open the latest New York Magazine (my "gift" for renewing some membership, though I didn't have a choice). And there, somewhat spread-eagled on the very first spread, is a guy in a dazzlingly white bikini, though I first thought it was underwear, apparently advertising cologne -- of course! -- in a boat... on a lake... practically naked.

I quickly shut the magazine and reopened it. Yup. Still there. I couldn't quite believe it. (OK, maybe I'm just a prude... about some things. Just seemed odd to have a near-naked guy spread-eagled on the first spread of New York Magazine.) So I turned to the father of one of my daughter's friends and said "Dan, check this out." There was no denying it now. Clearly there was a near-naked man poking out from the very first spread of New York Magazine.

Ah, how times have changed. Remember the days when if you wanted to advertise a bra, you had to show it next to or on top of a fully clothed woman -- a woman typically wearing a turtleneck or a modest dress? And I can't remember a single ad for underwear, besides Underoos, which were for the six and under set. Don't those days seem so long ago and quaint? Now, thanks no doubt to Madonna, undergarments are outergarments. And long gone are the days of modest advertising.

Go into any Abercrombie or Hollister, stores that attract a tween and teenage crowd, and you are surrounded by packages featuring perfectly sculpted males in briefs or boxers or the oh-so-popular boxer briefs. And these boxes of boxers are not tucked away in some dark back corner. Oh no. They are prominently displayed. Oh how today's young women are going to be disappointed. Tip: Don't judge a package by the cover.

So while I am on the topic of underwear... I must have received at least three emails and as many catalogs from Victoria's Secret since I started typing this note. OK, I exaggerate a bit. But REALLY (Thank you, Jesus), why me? I've got an OK body, but I'm no Gisele Bundchen. Not even close. Though frankly, besides Gisele, who is?

Over the years I have bought some shirts, a pair of men's style PJs, and what could best be described as a granny nightgown (long since discontinued, clearly because of lackluster sales) from Vicky's Secret. (What's the secret you say? These women have no nipples!) But nothing to elicit this deluge of catalogs and emails. And another thing: Who the heck buys this stuff, specifically those skimpy undergarments? I mean, there are, what, 122 women out there who actually look like a Victoria's Secret model? Maybe it's an aspirational purchase? Buy this push-up bra and thong and you too will look like Heidi Klum?

So I asked my spouse, who thinks women look sexiest in large, flannel pajamas, and he said, men. Men buy Victoria's Secret stuff. I am assuming for women (most likely a mistress), but you never know. Still I am curious. If you know, let me know. Enlighten me.