We live in the pre-ripped jeans age of style. Apparently, one could head down to Macy’s and purchase a nice pair of skinny jeans with all the rips already there. This is a real convenience for the girl on the go. The thing is I don’t know if they are ripped in the factory of if your personal shopper just gets her scissors out to make a starter cut and then rips the shit out of those one hundred dollar blue jeans. All I can say is the gal who gets her jeans pre-ripped probably has breast implants as well. That’s probably not fair. I would say the person who get her jeans pre-ripped also has somebody else bedazzle them for her.
I just remembered something sort of off topic, but apparently Jennifer Love Hewett bedazzles her hoo-haw. It’s probably not very grown up to call it a hoo-ha, but then again pussy is a little vulgar and vagina a little, well, medical-y. So I guess the thing to call it is home base. I can see how baseball is used as a metaphor for sex. Baseball is the national past time and it’s played in the spring and summer when young people are the horniest. Football, on the other hand is played when it’s getting cooler and it’s sweater time. Baseball’s a game of steps. You usually don’t hit a home run (unless you have a large and powerful bat), but instead achieve small goals that eventually lead to home plate.
Come to think of it, sex is a metaphor for baseball. When you hit a single you make it to kissing with tongue. A double will land you to fondling breasts, a triple to hands under the skirt. A home run will get you all the way to v-j plate. I totally thought this up as I wrote it, but I may regret it later, but isn’t sex all about regretting it the next day? So I am going to post it and if I feel really embarrassed about the blog, I will take a morning after pill and replace the fruit of my intellect, I’m trying to keep a straight face, with some poetry by….um….me?
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