November 08, 2005

• Holy crap, I can think of few situations fraught with more risk than buying lingerie when you don't remember her size. Just shoot yourself in the head, it's less painful in the long run. I don't mean to be stereotypical, but... if a SO was wrong in either direction I'd be crushed. "Here's what I wish you were" vs. "You're a disgusting cow, honey, here's a tent". Or upstairs, "that's all you are, right?" vs. "this looked like it'd fit the hot salesgirl, omg she was stacked." Yay! So glad to be celibate. That said, the wall's... a little scary. Is that really hot, to you? S'kinda disembodied and weird sounding to me. Amusing, but not hot.
• actually, i posted this without even considering the possibility of this wall being remotely sexually appealing (i caught teh ghey from Sulu)... i just thought it was a clever design solution to a long-standing problem.
• oh crap.... Monkeyfilter: I caught teh ghey from Sulu sorry.
• ah, sorry. The "I heart the Dutch" and the title led me to assume. Which is bad. Understood.
• The Dutch are well known for their design solutions. Or at least I think they are, but don't feel like googling for proof...
• Now I'm never going to able to listen to my favorite Richard Thompson song without giggling like a schoolgirl.
• Is that it in the picture? The blue wall with bumps that don't remotely resemble breasts? How could that be helpful?
• oops
• 'Can I help you, sir?' 'Ah, no, I'm just, eh, browsing...' Forget bra size; you haven't experienced the true scorching looks from your SO until, while tagging along in some store, she asks you to bring her some item in the next size. AND you, carelessly, after walking a few paces, turn back and blare so everyone at the place can hear: 'Oh, you need a size XX or a XX...?' Ouch.
• I am so lucky that my wife would rather I spend money on gifts for her for things like tools or pop-up books or assorted geekery.
• true that. I don't usually buy people clothes to begin with, not even relatives and such. It's too "this is how I want you to look / this is who I want you to be." Bleh. The SO never got me anything, but I'd take books long before froufrou that's meant to benefit him in the first place. /sidetrack
• God help you if you use this wall and you still get it wrong. Perhaps it'd be better if they had a reach-around version. Just rummage through her underwear drawer to check the label when she's off in the shower, like everybody else does. So much easier. So much less potential for embarrassment / violence. Or better still, buy her something that involves a custom fitting. Chances are your lady friend isn't wearing the right size as it is.
• What about her? nsfw, though, i doubt anyone would realize what it is you were looking at. i sure didn't. holy crap that website is fascinating.
• Never buy anything unless you measure first. That's fun, right there. Also, asking a woman her size almost always works.
• Doesn't this logically require a wall of arses, too?
• And 100% behind the Capt.'s custom fitting bra idea. That and eyebrow waxing changed my life. I know, TMI. But it did.
• I think there's a wall of arses in Deborah's house. It's a load-bearing wall. eh? EH?
• Yeah but her plumbing's all missing nipples.
• Doesn't this logically require a wall of arses, too? You just named my imaginary future blues band.
• And then when you break up you can title your first solo album Wall of Doodoo.
• My wife thinks I'm an idiot if I even remotely begin to conceptualise buying her 'underthings'. She regards it in the same way a musk ox would react if you bought it a tuxedo. She simply thinks men have "no idea" and to be honest, I think she is correct. Instead, I pleasure her in ways no other man can do, she selects her own frillies, I cook dinner, and she brings me beer. Perfect relationship.
• And those do look like boobs, rocket88...? Most women aren't actually gigando-inflato-mondo-huge like they're "supposed" to be. They're mostly flat, and they do lie along the ribcage instead of floating globulously in midair. You're quite the lucky man if you think they all look like porn stars. :p (Mannequins, people, is it that hard? All it takes is a mannequin. I know this is some sort of artistic thing, but really.)
• Mmm...Boobies :D
• Maybe ol Wendy can make us a wall of lips too....you know, heh, to help us pick out g strings and things like crotchless panties
• I think there should be a wall of dink. No reason, really.
• Or a ranch of dink. Others ranchers would come up to you and ask "So...Slim...how many dink you running on your place these days?" and you'd say "Oh, about 1,500 head". BWA HA HA!
• They'd have to sculpt them super-strong, though. 'Cause slip once when you're sliding a table across the room or something, and CRACK! and the painful to even witness, blargh.
• Several years ago I went caving with some friends in southern Missouri. It was a nasty cave for beginners to get through, lots of tight squeezes, stuff to flay your skin -- and when you went deep enough, clay that was not to be believed. Bright orange, as sticky as epoxy. Anyway, we were going through a tunnel section known as the Colon Crawls, so named because it was full of this clay and had a very tight entrance that was dubbed the Sphincter. So after about ten minutes belly-crawling through this muck, we rounded a corner, and there before us was the single largest display of clay penises I have ever seen. Previous visitors had simply scooped up a handful, made a little statue, and then stuck it to the wall or ceiling. There were hundreds of them. Some were crude and basic, others lovingly sculpted in full detail. They went on for yards. It was breathtaking. It was like crawling through an inside-out porcupine. Finally, we made it out of the tunnel and into a large chamber where we could stop and rest our muscles and backs. We all groaned and flopped down in the clay, pulled off our helmets, and had a snack. I looked over at my friend Josh, who was leaning against the opposite wall. Dangling precariously above his head was a foot-long, veiny orange phallus, complete with balls. Michelangelo would have wept at its glory. The effect made Josh look like a pornographic Snork. Dizzy from the exertion, I immediately pointed and shouted "HEY, JOSH IS SITTING UNDER THE MISTLEPENIS! SOMEBODY KISS HIM!"
• Middleclasstool: I love you! That whole story could be a tagline. I laughed so hard I think my chair's wet.
• Wurwilf, if you think those look like boobs, well...I'm sorry. Those things are perfectly circular bumps on a wall, kind of like inverted soup bowls or satellite dishes. If real breasts (I've never seen a porn star in real life) looked anything remotely like that, I'd have to consider switching teams. This is a bad idea all around...basically another "men are dumb" stereotype. It's real easy to check a label in a drawer, or - heaven forbid - ask. And to counter the monkey trend, most of the women I've known have been very happy to receive a gift of lingerie from me.
• I say the man Monkeys should take the lady Monkeys to the gonch store buck naked and just try stuff on.
• I think the dressing rooms are so big in Victoria's Secret for a reason :) Seriously, I second the idea of looking in the underwear drawer (but look at a couple... most women have a couple of sizes around) or doing the custom fit thing. Women tend to wear the same size for years and rarely think about being re-fitted. Plus, custom fit stuff is sexy.
• I've attempted to try just that, moneyjane, but reactions to this suggestion ranged from 'you sick fuck' variation, 'in your dreams', to 'you can be sure police will get involved'. So, no dice. As for looking on the undies drawer... once caught in the act, and only some very fast talking prevented another 'you can be sure police will get involved' reaction. Whew.
• My friends got me lingerie for my bachelorette - and one was so large I actually fell right out of the wire brassiere (and my rib cage isn't very small at all). Fortunately, that was the only fitted one - the others were lovely and floaty, and were better for being loose.
• I tend to get around the intractable problem of buying underwear for a "special lady" by living the endlessly sad, lonely life of an ugly, bitter loser who stinks of vomit.
• I actually prefer Wall of Voodoo.
• Ugly, bitter loser who stinks of vomit seeks same for underwear drawer rummaging.
• If Mr. Koko (sorry pete) ever surprised me with a gift of any kind, let alone lingerie, I'd start searching the apartment for a broken seed pod.
• Ugly, bitter loser who stinks of vomit seeks same for underwear drawer rummaging. That would make a great sitcom premise. Sort of like Bosom Buddies, but you could call it: Panty Pals. And I think you'd have to cast Gerard Depardieu and Robert Downey Jr. Feed them nothing but beer for six to ten hours before every shoot, as well.
• Why do you all laugh at my infinite pain?
• I'm not laughing, I'm marketing your infinite pain. I have no soul.
• Oh right.
• Monkeyfilter: I'm marketing your infinite pain.
• Koko! As soon as I'm done laughing at Quidnunc I'm going to be really hurt! MonkeyFilter: Perhaps it'd be better if they had a reach-around version.
• Why do you all laugh at my infinite pain? Because it's just so damn funny! Also, I'm a little out of it; I just flew in from Paris, and boy, are my molotovs tired!
• and boy, are my molotovs tired! Ah, so that was you!
• Personally I'm down with the, "take her to the best store in town with a big budget and go wild" as tending to produce the best results. On the other hand, last time my wife wanted to buy me a fancy shirt she hid a tape measure by the bed, waited until I was asleep, and managed to measure me without waking me up, so it would be a surprise. (Admires Wurwilfs ability to work her narrative of victimhood into any apparently unrelated thread)
• Ah, so that was you! But of course. As you can see, I'm employing an ancient military tactic; "When In Doubt, Let Thine Tits Hang Out", obviously much admired tactically by the gentleman at lower left.
• They're getting ready to throw the plastic beads.
• Uh, he's getting ready ... cursed double vision ...
• They're getting ready to throw the plastic beads. Exactly! That's when we throw bullets at them.
• I thought Phil Spector invented the "wall of boobs" in the early 60s.
• Yeah...and look what happened to him.
• I heard some pervert was arrested rubbing himself up against the wall, while screaming, "Oh, God, nirvana!" Was that you, Quid? What's the big deal about this, anyway? REI has a climbing wall. Is there a difference?
• REI has a climbing wall. Is there a difference? Price is the difference.
• Oh FFS, I don't mean to. I just speak from experience, and it was the only experience I ever had. If I had jumped out of planes I'd be posting in jumping-out-of-planes threads. 'Sides, I've posted lots of times in non-social threads. So kindly stuff it.
• I heard some pervert was arrested rubbing himself up against the wall, while screaming, "Oh, God, nirvana!" Was that you, Quid? Yeah, apparently grunge is an arrestable offence now.
• *arrests Kurtley and Cuntney*
• Is this the famous "Nailing Wall" I've heard so much about? Y'know where there's a bunch of guys standing around bobbing back and forth? I thought it was, like, in Greece or something? /Umurhikin
• OK. Point for Pete.
• Excellent. 27 more and I can cash 'em in for that Quidnunc bobblehead.
• Wow, Pete must have really been hittin' the humor juice!