posted
Ok, so as a gag-gift I'm buying friend a G-string. It's a gag-gift because her G String on her violin broke and she just said that her g-string broke (I'm a 17 year old boy, what do you think i thought). Anyways, So I'm sending her one, but everybody is giving me a hard time about not wanting to buy it myself.
So here is my question men, Would you feel comfortable Buying G-string?
[ December 25, 2004, 03:19 PM: Message edited by: J T Stryker ]
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posted
Funny thing is when I was a kid that's what I thought a G-String was! Someone wearing a string off a violin or guitar. I wondered why anyone would want to do that.
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posted
Kama, are you saying that because he bought you a bra, you dumped him, and got a new man? *writes notes: Tell Kama's BF to buy her a bra; Meet Kama!*
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Hmm, I would have thought it had something to do with the G-spot and all. But, you learn something new everyday.
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Sure, I'd feel comfortable buying one. This coming from someone who once had to be dragged into a Victoria's Secret because she wanted to look at stuff . I'm better now .
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posted
I'd say we're safely past the point of thinking threads about women's undergarments are "shady". Just look what happened with the last one. . . .
quote:Hmm, I would have thought it had something to do with the G-spot and all.
Maybe so, but frankly, I could never figure out what that G was supposed to stand for, either.
<--Is going to feel like a real idiot if that turns out to be a common knowledge thing that everyone else already knows.
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Never felt embarassed buying anything, and don't really understand why anyone would. You walk in, you look around, you buy one. Where's the fear?
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The first time I bought condoms I was so happy I might need them that nervousness didn't enter into it.
The first time I bought pads was after I had already been working at a grocery store for a few months and had stocked them plenty of times. Kinda loses the mystique after that.
You can only be embarassed if you care what the people seeing you might think. When I was around 13 I made the conscious decision to get rid of as many of my fears as I could, one by one. Darkness, bugs, embarassment, whatever. Wasn't an easy thing, but I'm glad I did. I just wish I'd have had the foresight to get rid of my self-centeredness at the same time, would have saved me a world of trouble
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posted
Come to think of it, my condom answer applies here. J.T., when you go to buy a g-string don't go in the store with the attitude of "I am so embarassed I'm buying weird women's underwear, what will they think?"
Go in with the attitude "I've got someone to buy sexy underwear for! Ha!"
Either way, trust me, the people working the counter won't care. Whatever you think of yourself, to them you're a credit card slip.
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posted
The first time i bought condoms was when i'd just turned 16. Some friends and i put them on bananas and left them in odd places around a another friends front yard (like in the tail pipe of his car).
Posts: 1094 | Registered: Mar 2004
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They didn't buy a G-string, they bought a thong. Which, in my opinion, kinda ruins the joke, but
Anyway, with most thongs and g-strings there are room for pictures on the front, and thongs can have a small all-over print.
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More importantly, would you want to be the one doing the laundry?
And, because I wanted to know. . .
quote: A g-string, as the name implies, has a string in the back of the panty instead of a fabric panel. A thong has a little more fabric and usually comes to a "Y" at the waistband. Both serve the same purpose of cutting down on visible panty lines. Each style has its ardent fans--your best bet is to try each and decide which one feels more comfortable to you.
posted
What affect do you think it would have on doing the laundry? Most of them are just like any other underware, you throw it in the washer and dryer. Some lace or silk ones are hand-wash/hang to dry, but that's no big deal. They're small enough that it doesn't take any time at all.
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I learned from a lovely Wench that -- when it comes to thongs -- the smaller the better. Almost counterintuitive.
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ElJay, they're small enough that I would bet they'd get lost in the laundry all the time... I mean, we're always searching for the poor matchless sock, right? And that's got to be, what? Five times the size of a G-String?
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posted
You know, with normal under ware, you really don't have material right up your butt. And if you do, it's generally on the inside of the under ware, which is like a whole extra layer of protection. Sorry, but I don't want to be the one unloading the thong/g-strings into the washing machine. Bodily fluids creep the hell out of me to begin with and I already do laundry with disposable gloves and lots of hand washing. Like I'd need the extra stress of a g-string! (Yes, I know I'm crazy, leave me alone. )
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posted
If you'll forgive the TMI, I haven't worn anything larger than a thong in at least a decade, probably longer. And I have never lost one in the wash.
Kayla, while I'm not as bad as you appear to be about touching icky things, I do have my quirks. (See description of dealing with mouse traps .) And really, thongs and g-strings don't get any more icky than any other kind of underware.
But I suppose since most of this stuff is all in our heads, anyway, my telling you that won't help any.
Posts: 7954 | Registered: Mar 2004
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posted
Oh, man ElJay, how did I miss that thread? I suppose I just blocked it out because it had the word mouse in it.
The mere fact that you can actually deal with the mice is proof you are better than I am. I'd have to move.
This is why I'm thinking about applying for Extreme Home Make-Over. You see, when we bought the house, I knew we'd have to re-do the bathroom. I even knew that my husband wanted to work on the electric box in the carriage house. And, though I was talked into buying the house 4 days after surgery which caused a massive migraine, we aren't stupid and we did have the house inspected and even had the inspector tell us about some wiring clean-up splicing stuff that the owner had taken care of.
After we moved in and were doing something. . . can't even remember what, we needed to turn the power off for something, and were trying to figure out which circuit breaker we needed to turn off. Looking at the breaker box, there were lots of little breakers with nice labels and everything. Unfortunately, it was all a lie. There is a 220 amp breaker for the dryer, one for the stove and there is even a breaker that the only thing we can figure out that is actually on it is one outlet in one bedroom. The rest of the house, yes, the entire house, is on one breaker. Every TV, VCR, light, washing machine, refrigerator, microwave, disposal, dishwasher, computer, printer, cable box, playstation, clock, air conditioner, furnace and everything we own with a plug, is on one breaker.
So, taking it all in stride, my husband comes up with a plan to rewire the entire house. And as long as he's going to rip out every wall in the house (lathe and plaster) and replace it with drywall, and since he's remodeling the bathroom, he might as well move the stairs, and add another bedroom.
This is where I nearly lost my mind. First of all, he works. Full-time. And he etches glass on the side, so his time is limited. Secondly, there is no way in hell I could deal with ripped out walls for an extended period of time. I can't stand to put down a crossword puzzle till it's done, can you imagine having an entire house that is unfinished? Thirdly, Lord only knows what other surprises await us once we open up the walls. And open walls in and of themselves are so. . . exposed!
So, the logical thing would seem to be to hire a contractor to have it done more quickly. Unfortunately, that would mean having men in the house. I don't think so. I barely tolerate my husband and son in the house. But a bunch of strangers? And it's not like I can go anywhere else.
So, I can't live in this house the way it is, and I can't let strangers come in and fix it and I won't let my husband fix it. Such a dilemma.
I was trying to explain agoraphobia to someone recently so they'd have a better understanding of it and finally decided the best way for me to explain it was to ask them what they were the most phobic about. Like mice for you, it would seem. For some people, it's like spiders or something. Whatever freaks you out, makes you jump and gives you the creepy-crawlies and makes you sick to your stomach and weak in the knees. Let's go with mice. Imagine that every person you saw during the day was a 6 foot mouse. And you didn't have them trapped and didn't have gloves and a trash bag and had to make small talk with them. Ugh! People freak me out.
And, trust me, the irony of being a person who hates all social interaction and having a son who is autistic and desperately needs structured social interaction isn't lost on me. I feel like there isn't a worse mother in the world my son could have gotten stuck with and my poor husband has to deal with us both.
It's so bad that I'm actually seriously considering sending in an application to that show, even though I loath anyone knowing anything about me. My son's old school once published our unlisted phone number and I had it changed immediately and wouldn't give them the new one and there was one other incident that happened before I finally just pulled him out of that school altogether.
I'm a firm believer being able to pack everything you absolutely need into a car and being able to move on a moments notice. So actually agreeing to buy a house was a huge victory for my husband after 15 years of marriage. And the fact that I think about packing up and leaving on a daily basis is driving him a bit batty. But, we finally found a school district that is really good for my son and he's thriving here and the stability of owning a house is really good for him. It's just torture to me. And this town is so small that whenever I rake leaves, at least 15 people feel the need to stop and comment on it, whether to say that the yard looks "so nice when the leaves are raked up" or to tell me "it's a losing battle" or that "it's nice that someone is finally taking care of the property again." (We're right across the street from the Methodist church, who are a friendly bunch, and God love them, but I wish they'd ignore me.)
So, do you think we sound pathetic enough to make it on the show? Our house is over a hundred years old and I'd be thrilled to go to Kansas City for a week, stay in a hotel and order room service and come back to find they'd leveled the house and built a new one (which is what they usually do) and it had a really cool room that had doors and a bathroom and a big TV with video games and stuff so my son could have friends over without me acting like a long tailed cat in room full of rocking chairs. I always wanted to be the cool mom with the house that all the kids wanted to hang out and instead, I'm the weirdo lady who lives in the creepy house.
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