This would never happen in the New Navy.

I’m wearing old-ass Old Navy pants at work today, and just noticed a fun new feature where the zipper is coming down on its own.

Outstanding. That’s outstanding.

At least my underwear is cute?

At least I’m WEARING underwear?

See, this is why I don’t wear pants.

This sounds like a job for Captain Subtext!

Seen in a man’s OkCupid profile:

First, “I love a girl that likes to dress up and wear heels. And is open minded.”

Later, “Must wear heels.”

So let me see if I’m reading between these lines accurately: You’re looking for a woman who’ll leave her heels on while y’all have rough sex? Maybe she’ll also leave on her nice dress, which she deliberately wore without panties so you’d spend the whole date imagining how easily you could just bend her over the nearest surface and go to town on her?

*shrug* Aight. I’m down.

They don’t even MAKE music for how sexy I am.

Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of “morning,” especially “rainy morning,” offers much less “fuck this shit” when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:

1. An Amy Winehouse song called “Amy Amy Amy” about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation…while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren’t the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.

2. “The Thong Song,” while wearing llama-print hipster briefs.

3. “Hell on Heels,” flip flops.

I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don’t even know how y’all deal with me.

P.S. There was also “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna, which proclaims, “I got class like a ’57 Cadillac,” which…clearly, with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, “got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back,” which — pfft — is TOTALLY true.

My memory is just fine, Facebook. THANKS.

You know those Facebook Memories where it shows you what you were doing on this day however many years ago?

The one I just saw might as well have said, “Ha ha, remember that time you were about to fuck up your whole life? MAN! Good times,” and then punched me in the stomach.

Eat a dick, Facebook.

All things considered, my life has turned out pretty well, but damn — between careers and homes and relationships and assholes, that was a lot of progress to process before I even finished my coffee. This probably explains why I’m so hesitant to change very much in those realms right now.

Unless Robert Downey Jr. calls. Then all bets are off. And so are my panties. (Joking. I would never have on underwear if I were anywhere NEAR Robert Downey Jr. I would always wear dresses and trampy nightgowns and go commando, so he could have a 24/7 all-access pass.)

Baby Got (Naked) Back

At work, texting with friends about the best body parts and most flattering angles for naked selfies to send to your significant other. As you do.

I usually just send a photo of tapioca pudding. It gets the point across and requires far less effort.

KIDDING.

My personal favorite is my naked back with a peek of panty lace on my hips, and my hair running down my back. I give good back.

Alternately, the curve of my waist, and my thighs, again with lovely draw’s. (That’s what you call them when you’re as sexy as I am.)

Aaand now I’m thinking about doing it.

Aaand now I’m turned on.

This should be an interesting rest of the day at work.

The Panda Panty Problem

Getting dressed for work today, it occurred to me that nothing — NOTHING! — says “sexy lady down for sexy times” like a pair of extra-large panties with pandas printed on them.

Boy shorts, no less.

“I’m sexy and I know it. Look at that body. I work out!” (<– I don't work out. Hence the XL draw's.)