The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

23 July 2005

Carpet maintenance

Found at Dr Pants' place:

I can't compete with the girls in Playboy ... because they have full-time pube stylists.

Obviously, you thought I was going with how tan and skinny and well-endowed they are. And they are, no doubt, but this isn't what bothers me. Most men can look around them and see that, in fact, most of the women they work with and see on the streets and in the mall are not gorgeously bronzed size 2s with triple D cups and a bedroom stare. I think they know that Playboy bodies are hardly a dime a dozen.

But you generally don't see the pelvic region on your coworkers, unless you work for said publication or turn tricks on 11th [presumably in Tulsa].

It is for that reason that I am deeply concerned that a generation of men is going to grow up thinking that women are supposed to have a nice, tawny, thin little landing stip of fuzz over their better parts. Let me tell you, it ain't like that. These guys are going to be in for quite a shock when they disrobe to find a veritable Cookie Monster between the legs of their amor.

Well, at least it isn't Chewbacca or Cousin Itt.

For myself, I have not made up my mind what I think about all this — insufficient data, you know — but I will report that once, and only once, I was faced, so to speak, with a freshly-waxed surface, and the circumstances of this are sufficiently bizarre amusing capable of filling up space to warrant recounting here.

The night before, after all, I had sneezed, which is the sort of thing that breaks the mood. She reasoned that maybe something had tickled my nose, and in the proper scientific frame of mind, set about to remove one possible variable from the equation.

And, well, I loved it, though I couldn't tell you, twenty years after the fact, if this was due to actual delight or sheer novelty value. At the very least, it motivated me to do my own brush-clearing exercise, which persisted until we finally broke up.

Although I must confess that I wouldn't recognize a "bedroom stare" even if it came to me from the bedroom.

Posted at 8:42 AM to Table for One

I don't know what Dr. Pants means by "bedroom stare," but the best I can think of is that it's what accompanies the question, "Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?"

Or as occurred at least once, "Who are you and what am I doing in your bedroom?"

Those were the days.

Posted by: McGehee at 10:17 AM on 23 July 2005

Baby!! and it certainly is!!

Posted by: paulsmos at 10:28 AM on 23 July 2005

I strongly suspect that the vast majority of men will be too happy that they've gotten that far to worry about such minor details as hirsuteness.

Posted by: akaky at 11:28 AM on 23 July 2005