South of No North

At what point are thongs officially considered suspenders? Because a recent visit to the local mall has led me to the conclusion that we are getting dangerously close to the point that the beloved low-rise-jeans-and-thong combo -- the very same combo that I have long maintained is the true reason God invented eyes -- devolves into comedy. And we can't have that.

Ladies, I love the way your thong creeps suggestively along your hips, rising and falling with each step, causing me to walk into walls, stammer like Rain Man, and try to conjure in my mind the beauty that lies just a bit further south. But once you're revealing more than four inches of thong, unless you're on the set of the latest L'il Wayne video, you might as well be wearing clown feet and riding an emu. Leave that look for the brave men and women of our nation's fire departments, and embrace the warm glow of suggestion. As always, I promise to mop up my drool.

Classes They Didn't Offer at My Community College

Not that I'd be taking this class, mind you. But to grab a chair and audit it from the back of the room... I'd be all about that.

Gone Drinkin'

sorry folks - this blog has been temporarily suspended due to the fact that Ken and myself are Red Sox fans, and it's the Motherfucking 2007 World Series.
See you in November!

Free Advice Friday: When Will My Girlfriend Turn Into Her Mother?

Dear Ken and Ariel: I've been dating a girl for three years now and think she's the one. Only problem: Her mother, my future mother-in-law, is a horror show; a good 400 pound, loud, obnoxious, malodorous. As bad as they come. What are the chances my girl's gonna look like that in, say, thirty years? Evan.

Ariel Says: First, let me say I am so flattered that you would deign to use a word like "malodorous" in a letter to the likes of us, we of the fourth grade education and obvious mental limitations. I had to look it up because I thought it was perhaps a type of mammal from the Mesozoic Era, like a prehistoric Shetland pony. Anyhoo, I have no idea on this one. Is it indeed innate or learned ugliness? In other words, if mom showered, laid off the Ding Dongs, and got a personal trainer, would that help? Any chance you can get a hold of mom's high school yearbook? What does the dad look like? If he's a woofer too, you may need to bolt. Despite what Extreme Makeover shows would have you believe, there's only so much the good doctor can do.

Ken Says: Ah, the old adage, “if you want to know what your girl will look like in thirty years, look at her mother.” Guys have been using that measure for years, but I’m not sure it’s all that reliable. I’ve seen plenty of knock-out women with ass-ugly mamas, and, conversely, a lot of MILFs cavorting about with unattractive offspring. But if your girl actually does devolve from Eva Longoria to Yoda over the next three decades, you can take comfort in this: the change will be so gradual, you really won’t even notice it. Also, consider how kind the years will be to you, buddy. Perhaps in thirty years, you may be lucky that anyone’s making a play for your johnson, let alone a woman who looks vaguely like your mother-in-law.

Have Inner Slut, Will Travel

There's a very good reason why "Girls Gone Wild" is usually taped in Cabo. When you're a chick on vacation, being a "good girl" and not engaging in lewd or lascivious behavior goes completely out the window. Why? Because we can actually get away with it. No strings, no history, no future, no one to judge, scold or get jealous. He's going to screw you and not call you again? Wahoo! Put me down for three! You're the third chick he's hooked up with tonight? Hell, this is the eighth guy I've done body shots on. And we just got off the plane 2 hours ago! While obviously not the most responsible way to behave, it certainly puts the whole ki-bosh on the "sole" biological imperative of women to find (and trap) a long term mate. Obviously our female ancestors had never heard of spring break.

What They Think of Me Speaks Volumes

So in the hopes of getting employees "healthy" and "engaged" and "clad in gym shorts," our company unveiled an in-house fitness center last year. While the thought of working out next to Clive from marketing didn't quite appeal to me, I realized it was free and probably the easiest way to keep on a workout schedule, so I succumbed.

After a couple months, I noticed one of the many hot chicks from accounting working out roughly around the same time I did. And said chick developed a pattern of going from one machine to the next without wiping down that telltale smudge of ass-sweat, which is in direct violation of all known gym etiquette.

Myself, well, I could care less. And actually found it a bit of a turn-on. But others didn't care for it. Like Mel, a coworker who, for some reason, felt insulted by the fact that this impossibly hot woman would dare leave an ass imprint on the recumbent bike seat. So he lodged a complaint with HR.

Problem is, when hot chick was called in by HR to discuss the matter, she inadvertently assumed the accusing party to be me, and said, according to my reliable source, "Are you kidding me? That dog's probably just upset because he wasn't able to lick it up without someone seeing him."

My reputation at the office: solid as ever, folks.

A Match Made In Heaven

It's that time of year again...where any given Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday you're likely to find tons of guys, their eyes and asses paying homage to the flat-screen HD NFL/MLB Ticket God. If you're a hetero female on the prowl, you think you've found Nirvana. But, you will have to be a hetero female who LOVES sports (and I know there are plenty of you out there.) Because, no one's leaving anytime soon, and no one's going to be paying attention to you (except during those retarded promos for Frank TV.)

Free Advice Fridays Presents: Will Date for Free Meal?

Here’s an age-old question: When a guy asks a woman out, who’s expected to pay?

Ariel Says: Hmm...do I detect an ever-so-slight scent of au de resentment, wafting gently between the lines? As in, “Are you kidding me, fucker? You asked ME out, you pony up the cash IMMEDIATELY when the check comes, you don't sit there fiddling with your queer Save Darfur rubber bracelet and looking at me expectantly!” So, generally, I'd say the rule of thumb is, whoever suggests the date coughs up the dough. That means if you invite him to "The Ice Capades Presents: Moby Dick", you pay. Now, if/when he does ask you out, it would be nice to at least attempt the gesture of reaching for your purse with a "can I contribute?" in dulcet tones. Paying the tip is also very charming. He'll probably dismiss you will a gallant wave of his hand as he proudly rips open his Velcro SpongeBob wallet. If he doesn't, take heed, my friend.

Ken Says:I’ll put this as simply as I possibly can: If you’re a guy and you’re holding out any hope that the female who you’ve asked out for the evening will place her hand anywhere even remotely close to your schlong, you’re paying. What kind of a guy asks a girl to pony up for dinner then complains that she won’t sit on his face? Assholes, that’s who. And some European students.

The End Is Near

People, if we have gone from this


To this


I am in great fear for the future of our planet.

An Ass That Demands Its Own Church

Understanding my unflagging allegiance to the female derriere, a number of kind readers forwarded me copies of the photo above. While on the surface it seems to represent an ass-lover's Mecca, I can't quite help but think there's something incredibly fake about that shot. Without the help of Photoshop, surgery or some kind of bizarre deal with the devil himself, I don't think anybody's ass looks like that.