Panty For Your Thoughts

2010-11-27T15:52:00.000-08:00

Hanes Her Way

2010-02-18T17:22:00.000-08:00

Diane English does have some awesome gams, but this ad is really weird.

Peggy Wholesome

2010-01-18T16:20:00.000-08:00

"'When I'm twenty-six, if I'm not married by then, I'm going to take a lover,' Caroline said.
'Really?' April sounded a little shocked. Then she thought about it. 'I think you're right. If you're that old, you have a right to live.'"

---from the definitive word on "office girls", Rona Jaffe's 1958 novel The Best of Everything

Matthew Weiner better be paying her royalties, for reals.

Echo Base

2009-12-19T16:46:00.001-08:00

If you could play Sim City on the ice planet Hoth, Philadelphia in the midst of a blizzard is what you would get.

YouTube K-Hole: Neil Diamond

2009-11-07T07:59:00.000-08:00

It is so easy for me to fall into a YouTube K-hole. All it takes is one silly video posted on Facebook and I'm in trouble. I find myself clicking on all the related videos until I've wasted hours playing this internet version of Six Degrees of Seperation. So, when one of my coworkers forwarded me this apocalypse-summoning version of Adam Sandler's The Chanukah Song, covered by none other than Neil Diamond, I knew I had the next part of my day mapped out for me.

After hearing that godawful cover (of an equally godawful song) I got a little obsessed with finding examples of musicians doing their own versions of the songs of Neil Diamond. I had no idea I would find so many! Behold, the spoils of my procrastination:

Neil began his career as a songwriter and his earliest success came from writing a bunch of popular tunes for The Monkees, including "I'm a Believer".

The song had a surge in popularity when Smash Mouth covered it for the Shrek soundtrack. (Click on this video at your own risk. Smash Mouth's version is inexplicably horrible.)

Remember this from Pulp Fiction? So good.

This song has such a characteristic Johnny Cash vibe, it's hard to believe Neil "Jewish Elvis" Diamond wrote it. Good for him!

Speaking of Elvis, his cover of "Sweet Caroline" is my absolute favorite YouTube find. Nobody can work a jumpsuit quite like him.

This compilation wouldn't be complete without an appearance by Diamonds in the Rough, the Neil Diamond cover band from the underrated low brow movie Saving Silverman. The attention to detail in the costume design is remarkable.

P.S. Did you know "Neil Diamond" is not a stage name? That's the name he was born with! He actually considered using either "Noah Kaminsky" or "Eice Chary" but decided to stick with his (superior) real name as a tribute to his grandmother. By the way, you can tell I have it bad when Wikipedia gets involved.

Food for Thought

2009-11-05T20:21:00.000-08:00

Mmm. Authors and cinnabons. I think I gained five pounds just by making this video. Maybe the next author will want to cook a salad for our internet show. Maybe not.

The Philadelphia Transit Strike Hits Close to Home

2009-11-04T10:26:00.000-08:00

I think if I worked from home everyday I'd forget how to wear a bra. Just saying.

The Recession Affects Comedy

2009-09-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

It looks like the folks on SNL are reusing costumes. And apparently Fred Armisen and Scarlet Johansson wear the same size. Who knew?

2006:

2009:

Necessary Film Revisions: Pretty in Pink

2009-09-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

Pretty in Pink hasn't aged well for me. I used to totally buy the starcrossed love affair between Molly Ringwald and Andrew McCarthy, even though it doesn't make any sense at all. Although they hail from vastly dissimilar socioeconomic backgrounds and the fact that all of their friends hate each other's guts, the two characters share a mutual, yet completely inexplicable, attraction that culminates in one of the most awkward dates in cinema history. Seriously, this date is excruciating, especially since it is never made clear why they like each other in the first place. Yet, after a mildly okay-looking kiss, the exceedingly dull pair are OMG SO IN LOVE! Then, torn apart by the scorn of supporting characters who lack any plausible motivation whatsoever, the lovers triumphantly reunite at prom, much to the surprise of teenage girls who DON'T think Duckie's gay. Whatever. Not buying it.

Although I've soured on Pretty in Pink in general, I still have a soft spot for Steff, James Spader's deliciously evil yuppie character in the film. His glorious jerkitude is a pleasure to behold. My friend Eem, who shares my affinity for Steff, and I have joked for years about making a cut of Pretty in Pink that spotlights our favorite teenage devil. Well, I had a lot of free time this weekend. Ladies and gentlemen, the Steff edit.

Back to Cool

2009-09-26T09:05:00.001-07:00

Courses at Val University:

Ebay Economics: It's All About the Search Word

Advanced Pop Culture Referencing

Overlooked Film Genres: Erotic Thrillers of the 90s

Doritos Collisions and the Science of Snack Food

Simultaneous Media Consumption

Yo Mamma!: The Art of Smacktalking

Science Friction: Barbarella and the Bombshells of Space

Finding Weird Shit on the Internet

Due to the recession, the degree in Savings is no longer available. Sorry about the inconvenience.

Hell-oh-el cats

2009-09-24T05:34:00.000-07:00

Today in bizarre Philadelphia news: some psychopath wrapped a defenseless cat head to paw in duct tape and left her to die. Thankfully, some horrified person found her and took her to an animal welfare organization for care. I can haz goo gone?

Fashion Police

2009-09-22T07:16:00.000-07:00

Is it discriminatory to pull a white cop from duty simply because he woke up one morning and decided to rock some sweet cornrows? Maybe. Does the questionable decision rescue the eyes of Philadelphia residents from the searing ugliness of said cornrows? Absolutely.

All that and a bag of chips

2009-09-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

Move over Rap Snacks! The bodega in my neighborhood sells the best chips in the world. For a mere 25 cents a pop I can enjoy a tasty snack while supporting a movement for change in urban youth.

Along with nutritional information, the back of Homegirls "It's All That" Potato Chips' packaging offers answers to the most troubling problems that face our youth today. As they munch on the delicious sour cream and onion snacks, misguided girls can also eat up the empowering (and flavorful!) advice, such as:

"MOTHERHOOD:

As we look to becoming mothers one day, we will produce children with good manners and good minds. We are the first teachers.
WE ARE GOING TO CHANGE THIS THING AROUND.

MARRIAGE:

We should save ourselves for marriage. Why should a man respect us if he can have us before marriage? Respect yourself and everyone will respect you. NO RING...NO THING!

THE POWER WITHIN US:

The force within us is stronger than the negative forces outside of us. So our message to bad influences is... STEP OFF!

WE'RE GOING TO CHANGE THIS THING AROUND.

THERE IS A NEW BAG ON THE BLOCK...IT'S ALL THAT! ...AND A BAG OF CHIPS"

In a 1992 interview Jerry T. Rigley, CEO of Chumpies Home Boys and Home Girls Distributing Co., champions the snacks, saying, ""We call them chips with a message. We take a quarter out of a kid's pocket. But we also put something in their minds." The thing he puts in their minds is clearly not about nutritional health but the message is easily digested. Just think how easy Obama's health care plan would go down if it tasted like BBQ. Mmmmm.

Dr. Philadelphia

2009-09-20T09:45:00.000-07:00

God bless Dr. Phil. With the closure of all of Philadelphia's libraries and parks (and layoffs of police and firefighters) looming in the future, the benevolent quasi-doctor descended on the city on Wednesday to tackle the city's most dire problem: the decades long feud between two guys who sell cheesesteaks on the same corner in South Philly. I mean, really, who cares about libraries when you can see the owner's of Pat's and Geno's spit a mouthful of each other's product onto the grass of Independence Mall? That's good television! Libraries are boring after all. And for losers. Who needs 'em? I'd gladly trade all the stupid libraries in Philadelphia for the comforting knowledge that the Great Cheesesteak Wars have finally come to an end. Let the bloodshed stop and the whiz flow freely!

When the Pennsylvania State Senate approved a budget on Friday that included the needed funds for the city's library and park systems I felt like the lawmakers were spitting steak right back in Dr. Phil's face. Was all his good work for naught? Despite his best efforts, relations between the two cheesesteak czars are still strained. If we don't send in troops to monitor the situation, communications are sure to break down and this dreaded war will flare back up again. But where will we get the money for military intervention when we are spending it foolishly on public programs? Help us Dr. Phil, you're our only hope!

p.s. I am only kidding. Dr. Phil is an idiot.

Search Me

2009-09-13T21:48:00.000-07:00

According to Google Analytics, here are a few keywords that have brought unsuspecting people to my weird little blog:

gazongas

changing panties blogspot

"sexy hook ups"

"tell him that I love him"

cheetara hot

cougar undies hot

dateing no panties

http://sexyhookups.info

i'm getting married in the morning from my my fair lady onyoutube

lady di panties

nice box

nice box company

panties euphemisms

princess diana panties

why do panties have crotches

Most of these I totally get, and I think I may have an internet crush on the poor nerdlinger who searched for "cheetara hot", but I was shocked by the apparent demand for pictures or information about Princess Diana in her underpants. Seriously? Is this a thing? Pretending for a moment that she was still alive and it wasn't morbid to look for pictures of her unclad, I just don't get her appeal. She's too well scrubbed for my taste, kind of like trying to rub one out to a picture of Julie Andrews. Well, I guess Julie Andrews has two things going for her:

That's right. Nice tits.

Matchy-matchy, stripes squared

2009-09-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

It happened again!

How can I parlay this bizarre ability of unconsciously matching my underclothes with my outerclothes into fame and fortune? Like Joey and his identical hand twin, I can't just sit on this goldmine. (Did I really just reference Friends? Shameful. Absolutely shameful.)

The Cheetara School of Fashion

2009-08-31T17:08:00.000-07:00

Today I got dressed like any other day, which is to say, "half-asleep". My usual routine is to, upon wrenching myself out my supine position (but not before hitting the snooze button multiple times), stumble blindly to my closet to survey my meager "professional" clothing choices. I eventually throw together something resembling business attire and head off to work. Well, today my system failed itself. Today my clothes took an unscheduled detour to Cougar Town. It wasn't until I sat down at my desk that I realized I had not one, but three different animal print patterns on or around my body.

Item #1:

My cute Target shoes.

Item #2:

The lining of my purse.

Item #3:

My panties!

I was flabbergasted. How could this have happened? How did I acquire so much animal print and then accidentally wear it all on one day?

I need to take steps to prevent this in the future. If this animal print addiction goes unchecked, I could end up like this:

Please Excuse the Euphemism: Gazongas

2009-08-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

More entries from my trusty Dictionary of Catch Phrases, this time concerning a subject I hold (literally, ha!) close to my heart: titties.

beautiful pair of brown eyes - a. 'A fine pair of breasts. Sometimes with a slight pause between the br.- and the -own of brown, i.e. a mock-recovery from a slip of the tongue. It could refer to nipples, I suppose, but I have also heard blue eyes; neither expression was very common: 1950s' (P.B., 1976--who adds, six years later: a spot of what we have now learnt to call male chauvinist piggery), Occ., more weakly, a nice pair . . . ---Hmm, "brown eye" mean something COMPLETELY different now.

all tits and teeth. (Of a woman) having protrusive breasts and large teeth: a low c.p. of C20. Hence, a still low but predominantly Cockney c.p., dating from c. 1910 and applied to a woman wearing an insincere smile and exhibiting a notable skill in displaying the amplitude of her bosom (il y a du monde au balcon). An alert and erudite friend, writing to me in 1967, recalled that he had sometimes heard this phrase elab. to '" . . . like a third-row chorus girl", i.e. one who can neither sing nor dance, and depends upon the display of her exceptional physique to keep her on the stage'. P.B.: cf. all bum and bustle, which epitomises equally well another type of woman: the middle-aged or elderly bustling and bossy sort. ---Not to be a hater, but this one makes me think of Jessica Simpson.

carrying all before her is a raffishly joc. or facetious c.p., dating from c. 1920 and indicating that the woman or girl to whom it is applied either has a liberally developed bust or is rather prominently pregnant.

Ancient example of this condition:

The Venus of Willendorf

Modern example:

Selma Blair in A Dirty Shame

you have grown a big girl since last Christmas! is a C20 c.p., hardly a cultured address to a girl or even a woman, the ref. being to somewhat noticeably large breasts. (Occurs in, e.g., R. Blaker, Night-Shift, 1934.) Cf you don't get many . . ., and you're a big girl now. ---Favorite catch phrase of creepy uncles everywhere!

I imagine the author of this to book to be akin to Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady, except instead of being able ascertain where you're from (and where you've ever lived) just by listening to you talk, this guy can give you a detailed history of every bawdy joke you tell. If anything, it's a pretty good party trick.

Valerie Shills Her DVD Online

2009-08-29T11:29:00.000-07:00

After about a year of legitimate distractions (moving to a new city, getting a full time job, GETTING MARRIED) and straight-up dawdling, my film is finally complete and ready to be sold for a very reasonable sum of $20 per copy. Or, you know, free if I actually know you IRL.

So, if you're interested in a comic dissection of gender politics and commerce in the wacky cyber age, give me a holler and I'll hook you up.

The Blog Formerly Known As

2009-08-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

So, I decided to change the name of this blog. Crotch Talk is no more. You are now reading Panty For Your Thoughts, which is a far superior title anyway. I'm still patting myself on the back for thinking of it.

Why change, you ask? Well, the other day, bored with Googling my own name, I searched for the name of this blog to see if anything interesting would come up. This is something I probably should have done back when I started it, to make sure the title wasn't already taken. Well, turns out it was. Taken by a Denver area company that, according to them, sells

"Underwear and baby onesies that have cute graphics, hilarious sayings, and nifty reminders INSIDE the crotch! The crotch is talking... but are you listening? And we also have awesome hand bags and clutches made out of real underwear too!"

Now that's a sales pitch! They're right, how long have I been ignoring what my crotch is saying? I can't believe I've been so rude to my lady bits.

Here's a few examples of their "hilarious" product:

I can't stop my mind from mentally adding gross period stains to these pristine undies. If my cooter could talk back, it would say "Not for long, bitch!"

If you meet a guy who uses his tightie whiteys as a wing man, run for the fucking hills.

They also make onesies for babies, which I find extremely disturbing and I can't really articulate why.
Maybe because I don't really want to think about a baby's crotch in any context, and I especially don't want that crotch to talk to me if I have to change it's diapers or something.

Want a purse made out of American Apparel hipster undies? They've got that too.

This gives me a queasy feeling just looking at it.

Anyway, they own the Crotch Talk url and they even have a facebook page so I thought it would be better to change my blog to avoid confusion. Long live Panty For Your Thoughts!

Nice box

2009-08-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

When my friend Whitney returned from a disheartening two year Peace Corp assignment in the West African nation of Mauritania, narrowly avoiding a military coup staged on the very day she was supposed to disembark, she brought home some remarkable souvenirs from the Islamic Republic, most notably a bar of Lady Diana Virginity Soap.

This product is fascinating. As a proud, liberated woman (although I would never burn a bra--my boobs need the support!) I am so deeply offended by the very idea of this soap that it makes me laugh. It is unfathomable to me that something this crazy actually exists, and some poor women are made to believe they need to use it. Fuck that.

Although thoroughly disgusted, I can't seem to curb my obsession with the packaging of this dirty little cleanser. There are so many questions: Is "Lady Diana" is a veiled reference to deceased English royal Princess Diana of Wales? Because I knew about her admirable work with landmine reform, but I was unfamiliar with this coochie tightening initiative. What is with the defiant body language of the headless lady in the demur gray nightgown? It doesn't seem to fit with the concept they are trying to sell. Her crossed arms and sassy hip stance seem to say, "Yeah, I have a loose cooter. You want to make something of it?" No, no I don't.

Printed on the side of the carton is a list of the purported benefits of the soap. This miracle product:

Tightens vaginal muscle
Washes away bacteria
Washes away infectious itching
Clears out normal accumulations
Refreshes skin during menstrual period
Reduces burning sensation
Reduces unpleasant odor
Keeps natural skin balance

The claims are pretty standard, except for the magical regrowth of the hymen, that is. The directions for use are where it truly goes off the rails. Through broken Engrish, the customer is told to:

"Uses of Lady Diana Virginity Soap to tighten vaginal muscle and clean your secret area free of unpleasant odor. Use regularly twice daily, in the morning and night or as often as needed for more confidence and great feeling like a virgin. It is mild and gentle and very effective."

Sorry, box, my secret area isn't buying this bullshit.

Shitty Blogger

2009-08-26T07:56:00.000-07:00

Look, I know I've been pretty terrible at updating this blog. When I started this thing last year I barely managed a handful of posts before I stopped bothering with it entirely. My last entries weren't even in 2009, for goodness sakes. It's pathetic!

I have the same problem keeping up my correspondence. I check my email constantly at work (as does anyone with a boring desk job) and I'm always happy to receive something from a friend instead of the usual administrative crap. Actually, to be more accurate, I read personal emails at work. I don't respond to them. I file them away so I can write back later when I have more time to compose something witty and chuckle-inducing. And then I forget to write back. Weeks go by and I find the old email, like an albatross, in my inbox. I have even marked it as unread to remind myself of its existence, yet it remains unanswered. I stare at the bold text like I would look at a firing squad. The guilt overwhelms me. I feel horrible about failing at this simple social exchange. I vow to do better. I plan an email response of epic proportions to make up for my sin. And then I never do that either. At this point I probably just call the person.

So, this is me, vowing to do better. It probably won't happen, but it's an admirable goal. Please support it!

p.s. Am I the last person to have seen this crazy Japanese video about potty-training? Apparently it's up to almost 2 million views on YouTube. I can see why. I'm totally hypnotized by that song the parents sing while the kid is taking a shit.

Tell Him That I Love Him, Tell Him That I Care

2008-11-23T12:28:00.000-08:00

I love the Shangri-las. They epitomize that cool clique of rough-and-tumble looking girls ubiquitous to every American high school. The girls who used to cut science class so they could smoke cigarettes and compare hickeys. The girls who cheated off of you but were still flunking and didn't seem to mind at all. The girls who each had some sort of awesome talent like they could draw really well or something but got all pissed off if you mentioned it. The type of girl Busy Phillips got so right with her portrayal of Kim Kelly in seminal gone-but-not-forgotten television show Freaks and Geeks.

From behind my AP classes and college application bait extracurricular activities I always wanted to be included in this mangy lot of alley cats. Being not tough at all, I fantasized about loitering outside the movie theater with these alpha chicks as we goofed on the flocks of pubescent nerds not yet used to their gangly limbs. Maybe I could get caught for smoking weed out of a Pepsi can on the steps of the art building too! What mystique! Of course I never so much as offered a light to the Kim Kellys or even the Karen Scarfollis of my high school. I was too afraid of being beaten up. Listening to "Give Him a Great Big Kiss" by the Shangri-las I can rationalize my former meekness by concluding that this fear was not altogether unfounded. You see, tension can arise in a pack of girls when you share an affinity for the same type of guys. And boy do I have a boner for the guy this song describes.

Let's analyze the lyrics:

Here comes my guy walking down the street---Cars are overrated. They make you flabby.
Look how he walks with a dancing beat--Like early career John Travolta, struts are hot.
Thick wavy hair, a little too long----------That needs-a-haircut look makes me wet.
All day long he's singing his song---------Probably in a band. Might write a song about you. Hot.
And when I see him in the street
My heart takes a leap and skips a beat
Gonna walk right up to him
Give him a great big kiss
Tell him that I love him
Tell him that I care
Tell him that I'll always be there
(Spoken) Well what color are his eyes?
I don't know he's always wearing shades---I'd fuck him AND his RayBans
Is he tall? Well, I've got to look up----We're the same height when he slouches. Which is always.
Yeah? Well I hear he's bad
MM, he's good bad, but he's not evil---Has a switchblade but only uses it to defend my honor.
Tell me more, tell me more
Big bulky sweaters to match his eyes--Uhhh, sure.
Dirty fingernails-------------------------Too cool for a bar of soap.
Oh boy what a prize---------------------To fight for!
Tight tapered pants, high button shoes---Tough and stylish, like a teenage James Bond!
He's always looking like he's got the blues---Girls love this! Just ask Jordan Catalano.
And when I see him in the street
My heart takes a leap and skips a beat
Gonna walk right up to him
Give him a great big kiss
Tell him that I love him
Tell him that I care
Tell him that I'll always be there

Yeah, I wouldn't have a chance against the Shangri-las. They are from Queens. They'd slice me.

It's Halloween, You Betcha

2008-10-31T14:57:00.000-07:00

People never get my Halloween costumes. I always choose something far too esoteric for the spirit of the holiday and end up spending the season exasperated from having to explain to the 100th drunk party goer I'm Pris from Blade Runner and not David Bowie from Labyrinth, but nice try though. Example: Last year, when the world experienced an unexpected shortage in temporary tattoos because of the vast amount of ladies dressing as Amy Winehouse, I decided to go as a completely different unlucky-in-love, drug-addled pop star, Stevie Nicks.
I even wasn't trying to be a contrarian or anything. I swear I didn't pick Stevie to serve as an antidote to all the Amys. I just wanted a reason to walk around all night with a fake cockatoo on my arm.

My favorite costume of all time was the year I went as Patty "Tania" Hearst. It was so easy! All I had to do was buy a plastic machine gun, don a beret and my dad's old army shirt and I was ready to go! It was also one of those rare great costumes that was warm enough to be worn outside for longer than ten seconds. Not very topical though. I don't even remember more than a handful of people even hazarding a guess.

As a change of pace, I think this year I might embrace the cultural zeitgeist and wear an instantly recognizable costume. I already have the machine gun. All I have to do is lay my hands on an American flag bikini and I can join the throngs of other Sarah Palins at the apple bob and hay ride.

The girl-next-door of your futuristic dreams

2008-09-30T16:26:00.000-07:00

Why can't they make porn like this anymore?

Admittedly, I'm a huge sucker for sex in space (see: student loan money spent recklessly on a giant Barbarella tattoo) but doesn't this seem a lot more appealing than the boring ram-you-in-the-ass-cum-on-your-face stuff you find these days? I'm all for hardcore porn and everything but look at what you get with a little creativity and production value! The costumes, for one, are a revelation. Except for the weird people dressed as woodland animals, which are total boner-killers. Unless you are into that sort of thing.

Also, in case you didn't notice, it's a freaking musical! Fuck yeah, I say. What a welcome change from modern porn's treacly instrumental soundtracks. Fun Fact: Before Malcolm McLaren formed Bow Wow Wow he teamed up with a pair of French screenwriters to write what he described as "a soft-core rock n'roll costume musical for kids" called The Adventures of Melody, Lyric and Tune. Unfortunately, he never found any backers for the project. How many more porn musicals are out there? I must know!

The film also boosts it's fair share of pathos. Witness for yourself the lamentable plight of a sexually confused robot. Try as he might he just can't figure out where to "plug it in." Tragic! Especially since a side effect of his problem seems to be breaking into goofy dance routines.

Of course, I'm a girl and I rarely jack it to porn. I enjoy it mostly for the pure entertainment value. If I thought of porn as a functional means-to-an-end then I'd probably prefer Fuck Dolls #5 too.

I always use some milk and cream for you cause I think you're kinda sweet

2008-09-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

Let's give a moment to revisit a classic: Alicia Keys's 2003 stalker-y masterpiece "You Don't Know My Name."

The best part is obviously the sultry Ms. Keys's velvety and extremely bizarre spoken word breakdown in the middle of the song where she pretends to talk on a cell phone. I mean, it's so fucking hilarious. She includes static interruptions! She uses a catch phrase! When comedienne Maria Bamford makes fun of it she doesn't even have to write a complete joke, she just recites the crazy monologue as written.

So, that's definitely the best part, right? Look a little closer. Yup, that's Mos Def steaming up the screen. For me, he's the best part of everything.

Please Excuse the Euphemism: The Oldest Profession

2008-08-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

Entries from A Dictionary of Catch Phrases: American and British, from the Sixteenth Century to the Present Day by Eric Partridge, a book I received as a gift when I was ten years old:

she would sell her hole for half a dollar is a contemptuous ref. to a girl lacking in self-respect: C20.

she's been fucked more times than she's had hot dinners or she's had more fucks than you've had hot dinners. A low, proletarian c.p. of late C19-20. The male counterpart is I've had more women than you've had hot dinners, q.v.

she's good (or very good) to the poor has, since c.1910, been a prostitutes' 'catty' c.p., applied to one who cuts her price, and thus lets the sisterhood down.

she's sitting on a goldmine. A 'men only' c.p., usu. applied to an attractive, demure girl apparently unaware of her own charms. 'The ref. is to prostitution, of course. Services', certainly during my own time (1953-74), and probably long before' (P.B., 1977). It was current during WW2, but often referring to part-time prostitutes or to 'enthusiastic amateurs', as the phrase went.

rough as bags and twice as dirty (or nasty). An Australian soldiers' c.p. of 1915-18, it was applied to the prostitutes frequenting the neighborhood of Horseferry Road, London, where the AIF headquarters occupied a building. Cf the Aus. simile (as) rough as bags and the Eng. (as) rough as a sandbag, uncouth.

And my all-time favorite...

she has (or she's got) round heels is, in Canada, directed at a very accommodating female, her heels being so round that a mere nudge will put her on her back.

I don't know how "catchy" these phrases are in this day and age --can you imagine Christian Siriano from Project Runway calling someone a "round heels" instead of "a hot, tranny mess"?--but they are certainly some saucy alternatives to boring old slut and ho. Personally, if someone was going to call me a derogatory name I'd appreciate if they put a little thought into it.

Sexy Hook-Ups: An Appreciation

2008-07-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

Do you ever just know you're going to hate something, like as a child when you first encountered something innocuous and possibly delicious like a mushroom and blithely decided "Nope, I don't like the cut of your jib" and proceeded to live a fungi-free life thenceforth even though you never actually deigned to try them to see if they tasted just as disgusting as they looked?

Well, I was like this with Andrew Bujalski's 2003 film Mutual Appreciation. It's one of those films referred to as "mumblecore" which, for the uninitiated, is a recently conceived genre characterized by super low production costs, use of non-professional actors and largely improvised scripts. Despite the undying praise given from all the scenester kids I know, the tenets of Mumblecore seemed to me like a recipe for a shit sandwich. I mean, god forbid you might want to try a little hard when making a feature-length movie that you want people to actually watch. No, that would be so uncool.

And yet, to my intense surprise, I actually liked Mutual Appreciation. It was charming and funny, with all the elements that I had been so dubious of coalescing into a totally watchable and strangely relateable film. Strangely relateable because a host of the scenes depicted had such a familiar ring to them, like I had been to that same bad party or had that same awkward conversation with a boyfriend. I mean, I've definitely gone to a shindig where I found myself surrounded by unfamiliar people and then was goaded into doing something ridiculous, like when the main character of MA is talked into donning a dress and putting on makeup after he drunkenly crashes a party that his friends were supposed to attend, but bailed.

It shouldn't be a such a shock that a film geared toward the aimless mid-twenties set struck such a cord with me, as I am an aimless mid-twenty, but movies rarely get things right. Example: the first kiss. In any typical Hollywood romantic comedy (or drama or action flick, etc.) the first kiss between the main character and his love interest is always built up to such a heightened degree that when the guy finally grabs the girl and smooshes his face into hers the release you get while you are watching is almost orgasmic. Think about that scene in It's a Wonderful Life where the initial make out session between James Stewart and Donna Reed seems almost brutal because they want it so badly. There is a sense of victory about this moment, cathartic and lovely as Ms. Reed literally wilts from the effort.

Is this sexy? Yes. Is this realistic? Not a chance. I've had a lot of first kisses in my day and not one of them has been this explosive and urgent. I have never been taken, as it were. And this is not a bad thing. People just don't hook-up like they do in the movies. In my experience it has always been a delicate game of pussy-footing around, rather than some dynamic gesture that knocks your socks off. A more believable sequence of events: You are having a conversation on a couch. You laugh and touch his arm. He goes to get another drink and when he comes back he sits a little closer to you. You cross your legs and your knee grazes his. He doesn't pull away. At that moment you know you are in. You lean a little closer and his arm touches yours. He lightly strokes your arm with his index finger. Only after this mannered game of testing the waters is complete, then you kiss.

It might not be as dramatic as the Hollywood way but it certainly does the job.