I am quite sure that Theo is not the only bear out there confident enough to step up to the plate and model undies when his human companion is too wussy. If anyone else has a plush friend eager to become rich and famous as a human-underwear supermodel (not a plushie - I don't want stuffed animal porn!), I would welcome his/her photos to post on this site. Please email them to me at cussandotherrants@gmail.com. Together, we can rival Victoria's Secret or Frederick's of Hollywood with the best underwear models on the planet!
As for Theo, he is looking forward to his next photo op when I return from Chicago. No more granny undies - only the good stuff!
(And I still have the granny undies because they are like comfort underwear. Or on days when I really can't have my underwear cutting off my gut and causing it to bulge out in two parts in a fancy long dress, underwear that literally goes under my bra creates a disturbingly smooth line. I know that sounds wrong, but it works quite nicely.)
Thursday, December 1, 2005
Here on ATA, You're on Vacation (Not)
There's been a death in our family, so I went home to Chicago this evening. On my flight, the shithead sitting next to me with a Salomon Bros. bag had his fucking ipod on so loud that I could hear it the whole flight. Unfortunately, his taste in music is CRAP. At one point, I literally thought I'd rip his earphones from his head and strangle him with them. He'd never even know what hit him...
These are a Few of My Favorite Undies, Part 1
Now that I have accepted the thong/g-string challenge, I thought I should share some of my current favorite underwear. However, I was not sure how to do this as I was warned by my husband not to post pictures of myself in my underwear. (His wisdom was, “Once your ass is on the internet, you can never get it back again. It’s out there forever.”) I clearly needed a model.
This is my 17 year old bear friend, Theo. As you can see, he is very stylish with his scarf. He is also very confident with his sexuality, which is why he agreed to help me out by modeling my favorite styles of underwear.
Theo is wearing my very last pair of granny panties. These have been around since I weighed 167 lbs, which was at least 7 years ago. I got rid of the rest of my old fat undies, but kept the last pair, partly out of sentimentality and partly because sometimes you just need a pair of undies that pretty much go up to your chin.


Theo is looking good in my Emily the Strange Snow White undies. (In case it is not entirely clear, the front has an apple on the crotch and the back says, "What's your poison?" Hilarious!) These came with a matching camisole of Emily offering up an apple. I bought the set last year on sale for $10 - which I thought was a pretty great deal – at the Army-Navy Surplus on Belmont in Chicago. It’s the first matching set of underwear that I’ve owned since I had Underoos. Unfortunately, since I have almost no torso (I have less than an inch between my rib cage and hips), the camisole fits quite poorly as it is way too long, so I am unable to wear it over my shirt as I did with my Underoos so everyone can see how awesome it looks.
Anyway, thanks for coming to my little Victoria’s Secret-style fashion show. Theo was happy to help by modeling two out of four of my favorite undies, with another photo session to come. Remember, as I have noted in the past, real people do not look the same in lingerie as the models do. So since I am using a model, this is not what I personally would look like in my undies. (My gut sticks out more, and given my model, I am actually less plush.) Don't get any ideas.
This is my 17 year old bear friend, Theo. As you can see, he is very stylish with his scarf. He is also very confident with his sexuality, which is why he agreed to help me out by modeling my favorite styles of underwear.
Theo is wearing my very last pair of granny panties. These have been around since I weighed 167 lbs, which was at least 7 years ago. I got rid of the rest of my old fat undies, but kept the last pair, partly out of sentimentality and partly because sometimes you just need a pair of undies that pretty much go up to your chin.

Theo is looking good in my Emily the Strange Snow White undies. (In case it is not entirely clear, the front has an apple on the crotch and the back says, "What's your poison?" Hilarious!) These came with a matching camisole of Emily offering up an apple. I bought the set last year on sale for $10 - which I thought was a pretty great deal – at the Army-Navy Surplus on Belmont in Chicago. It’s the first matching set of underwear that I’ve owned since I had Underoos. Unfortunately, since I have almost no torso (I have less than an inch between my rib cage and hips), the camisole fits quite poorly as it is way too long, so I am unable to wear it over my shirt as I did with my Underoos so everyone can see how awesome it looks.
Anyway, thanks for coming to my little Victoria’s Secret-style fashion show. Theo was happy to help by modeling two out of four of my favorite undies, with another photo session to come. Remember, as I have noted in the past, real people do not look the same in lingerie as the models do. So since I am using a model, this is not what I personally would look like in my undies. (My gut sticks out more, and given my model, I am actually less plush.) Don't get any ideas.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Class-y Lady?
It's very clear that I have class issues. Pretty much I resent people who have grown up with every advantage in life who have no appreciation for what they've been given. Worse, when people whine about how they deserve it because they "work so hard," as if a person who works at three minimum wage jobs to make ends meet has no idea what hard work is. (Hello, Paris Hilton, as a mere expample of the guilty.) So I have no idea how the following two things came to be:
1. I am for some reason on the Bergdorf Goodman e-mail list. The emails started coming about 3 months ago. What the fuck is that? I have only stepped into a Bergdorf Goodman once in my life, and that was when my husband's bitch friend from high school insisted that I come wedding dress shopping with her in the fall of 1999. (For the record, dresses started at $6,000, which was too high for her, too.) I sure as hell didn't touch anything while I was there (for fear of setting off an alaram - as in, "Oh a commoner is touching something! Beware! Beware!"), let alone sign my freaking student email address on any papers. Yet this afternoon, I got an email helpfully alerting me to their free shipping offer*(*on orders of $175 or more, which I misread initially as $1750) and the Jimmy Choo spring collection. Oh irony, I love you so.
2. On the flip side, I am dreading a flight I am taking this weekend because it is on ATA. ATA is the Greyhound of airlines. As I have mentioned before, I have a mysterious digestive ailment which can cause me to have seriously foul (maloderous, in medical parlance) gas. I have been struck this week with particularly rank farts. So I was relieved that I was flying ATA instead of another airline since I figure only the paeons like me will be on the plane. Very sad state of affiars indeed.
1. I am for some reason on the Bergdorf Goodman e-mail list. The emails started coming about 3 months ago. What the fuck is that? I have only stepped into a Bergdorf Goodman once in my life, and that was when my husband's bitch friend from high school insisted that I come wedding dress shopping with her in the fall of 1999. (For the record, dresses started at $6,000, which was too high for her, too.) I sure as hell didn't touch anything while I was there (for fear of setting off an alaram - as in, "Oh a commoner is touching something! Beware! Beware!"), let alone sign my freaking student email address on any papers. Yet this afternoon, I got an email helpfully alerting me to their free shipping offer*(*on orders of $175 or more, which I misread initially as $1750) and the Jimmy Choo spring collection. Oh irony, I love you so.
2. On the flip side, I am dreading a flight I am taking this weekend because it is on ATA. ATA is the Greyhound of airlines. As I have mentioned before, I have a mysterious digestive ailment which can cause me to have seriously foul (maloderous, in medical parlance) gas. I have been struck this week with particularly rank farts. So I was relieved that I was flying ATA instead of another airline since I figure only the paeons like me will be on the plane. Very sad state of affiars indeed.
A Gauntlet has been Thrown Down, and I Accept the Thong Challenge
I am quite lucky so far in that none of my friends have stopped speaking to me as a result of my blog, and in fact, have been very supportive and enthusiastic. Because I could totally understand if someone read it and realized that I am a judgmental bitch and decided to never talk to me again (although I fully realize that some people are friends with me precisely because I am a judgmental bitch with an agenda with which they happen to agree). So I am all the more pleased by the following exchange I had with a friend on email:
Friend: I have to admit to wearing thongs when working out :)
Me: And it doesn't bother you? I can't see how that is comfortable. But then again, you may have noticed that I have a lot of rigid preconceived notions. Maybe I will have to try it out myself and then I can write about it...
Friend: Actually, I find it more comfortable. Keeps me from getting wedgies! I think you do need to try out some of the things that you rant against. We will start with thongs at the gym and maybe even move onto a waxing. :) You can't rail against stuff you haven't tried and I am a firm believer that a little bit of wax (not totally bald, that is gross) used by both parties is a good thing.
While I disagree on two points (1. I rail very nicely against stuff I’ve never tried – that’s the beauty of being a slight hypocrite; and 2. I have tried waxing and it usually results in ingrown hairs and rashes, so I’m no more attractive than I was as a hairy ape), I agree that I should investigate the thong thing more fully. Hence I pledge that I will purchase a thong and a g-string (the latter because I find it hysterical) and test them out, with a full report to be issued at CUSS. I love these little experiments/undercover ops where I pretend to be a normal female and most likely fail miserably, which results in fine tragicomedy. Stay tuned.
Friend: I have to admit to wearing thongs when working out :)
Me: And it doesn't bother you? I can't see how that is comfortable. But then again, you may have noticed that I have a lot of rigid preconceived notions. Maybe I will have to try it out myself and then I can write about it...
Friend: Actually, I find it more comfortable. Keeps me from getting wedgies! I think you do need to try out some of the things that you rant against. We will start with thongs at the gym and maybe even move onto a waxing. :) You can't rail against stuff you haven't tried and I am a firm believer that a little bit of wax (not totally bald, that is gross) used by both parties is a good thing.
While I disagree on two points (1. I rail very nicely against stuff I’ve never tried – that’s the beauty of being a slight hypocrite; and 2. I have tried waxing and it usually results in ingrown hairs and rashes, so I’m no more attractive than I was as a hairy ape), I agree that I should investigate the thong thing more fully. Hence I pledge that I will purchase a thong and a g-string (the latter because I find it hysterical) and test them out, with a full report to be issued at CUSS. I love these little experiments/undercover ops where I pretend to be a normal female and most likely fail miserably, which results in fine tragicomedy. Stay tuned.
I'm Melting
I mentioned to someone that I do not understand why in the world women would wear pointy toed shoes that make them look as if they were the wicked witch and Dorothy just fell on them with her house. She informed me that women feel that it makes their feet look slimmer. OK then. You know, though, I’ve never seen drag queens wearing pointy toed shoes. So it is clear to me that you have to have a special kind of self-hatred to wear a pair of extremely narrow shows that pinch your feet as much as possible – so much so that you might actually come to believe that it makes sense to have parts of your foot removed so you can wear your monstrosities more comfortably – to punish yourself for having the nerve to be a woman. It’s actually very sad, and so I think I may have to stop mocking women who wear pointy toed shoes. Ha ha ha – nah, their adults and made their choices, so I might as well have some fun. Let’s start with this scary “boot:”

This is a Jimmy Choo boot that costs - I swear to God - $1,440. If I really hated myself, this would be a good investment. First, you might notice that it is gold lame. While I am of Russian Jewish heritage, I am Americanized enough to understand that it is wrong when white people wear gold lame. Second, I see that this boot was designed for a person with only one toe. Oddly enough, I have five, as do most women. If I wanted to punish myself, trying to jam all five toes into this boot would be very effective. I'd repent whatever sin I committed very quickly, probably before even walking a few steps. (But I'm a wuss that way.) The final problem I have with this boot is the way the front of the boot slopes into the top of the foot. I have feet made of flesh, not wood or metal. This would probably dig into my flesh.
If I saw someone walking down the street in these shoes, I would be tempted to mug her because I know that a. she has enough money to blow $1,440 on these boots; b. she is obviously blind as she cannot see how hideous they are; and c. she sure as fuck could not very effectively chase me. I would give all the money in her purse to a nonprofit organization that helps landmine victims. Because those are people who appreciate their limbs.

This is a Jimmy Choo boot that costs - I swear to God - $1,440. If I really hated myself, this would be a good investment. First, you might notice that it is gold lame. While I am of Russian Jewish heritage, I am Americanized enough to understand that it is wrong when white people wear gold lame. Second, I see that this boot was designed for a person with only one toe. Oddly enough, I have five, as do most women. If I wanted to punish myself, trying to jam all five toes into this boot would be very effective. I'd repent whatever sin I committed very quickly, probably before even walking a few steps. (But I'm a wuss that way.) The final problem I have with this boot is the way the front of the boot slopes into the top of the foot. I have feet made of flesh, not wood or metal. This would probably dig into my flesh.
If I saw someone walking down the street in these shoes, I would be tempted to mug her because I know that a. she has enough money to blow $1,440 on these boots; b. she is obviously blind as she cannot see how hideous they are; and c. she sure as fuck could not very effectively chase me. I would give all the money in her purse to a nonprofit organization that helps landmine victims. Because those are people who appreciate their limbs.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
A Cuntface Whore's Success = Sour Grapes for Me
Bah! So the stupid little cuntface Belle had to leave New York and go back home for a while. Good riddance, I say. However, while she was away she seems to have met her true Southern love (I don't care about that, except that it makes me sad to think about them reproducing and bringing more conservative Southern idiots into the world) and got a fucking book deal based on her blog!!! Now she's back and writing away in her little SoHo apartment and partying it up all night, the darling of the asshole rich people's nightlife circuit, her fucking retard acolytes fawning all over her return and praying that her book writing doesn't interfere with her sugary vomitous blog. Goddamn, has anyone read her blog? (Try it - belleinthebigapple.blogspot.com - and cry/seethe with anger.) I have. It is filled with flowery writing and sappy pronouncements about the future. Life is unfair in the worst ways sometimes. Seriously, I loathe this bitch. She's like the Elizabeth Wurtzel of the South, except not a plagarist.
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