Hands Across My Labia

(WARNING: NSFW)

There’s a new movement afoot to get women to love their labias.

Why? Huh?

Because we women are supposed to feel like shit about our physical selves–even when we don’t–so some twink somewhere (probably a plastic surgeon) makes up a new neuroses for us gals to glom onto. Of course we do this since we women are also major people pleasers AND this society is allllll about promoting beauty over brains and brawn. What happens next? Our self-esteem takes a major hit, and we’re looking for the next beauty miracle to make us perfect instead of, oh I don’t know, maybe reading a good book that will make us a scosch smarter/wiser. Help us, Judy Blume!

Now, I was taken aback by this new love thyself no matter what proclamation because I had no idea that some women hate their labias.

Wait..clarification desperately needed here–90% of men don’t know what the LABIA is (no, it’s not the latest Italian sportscar, although most men ride it like it was –HEY O!), so I will do the honors of explaining to the menfolk just what AND where the labia is.

From FreeDictionary.com:

labia

[lā′bē·ə] sing. labium

Etymology: L, lip
1 the lips.
2 the fleshy liplike edges of an organ or tissue.
3 the folds of skin at the opening of the vagina. labial, adj.
Here’s the perfect graphic for show n’ tell: And to the dudes who read this blog–commit this image to memory–with particular attention paid to where the clitoris is. *AHEM*
(Courtesy of The Mayo Foundation)

(Courtesy of The Mayo Foundation)

Apparently, the hot trend these days–labiaplasty–is for women whose twats have had quite the workout birthing humans, riding horses, doing the splits during their Nadia Comaneci phase, and well, just by being a modern woman. That shit gets stretched out, see, and some women are uber-self conscious about their labias looking like elephant ears.

Huh?

Really?

This is where we get into trouble.

Ok, let’s walk through this one, mmkay? So, some woman, who has done her fair share of living (see above graf), suddenly feels like CRAP because she’s seen what the porn goddesses have and decide that them gals are the new high standard in pussy perfection.

(Side note: I’m sure most of this myth is perpetrated by men who never leave their parents’ basements.)

Yes, even though the only folks who will actually feast their peepers on her vajay, are her doc (hey, she/he has seen ’em all & they don’t care), her significant other, her lover, her mistress, and perhaps her waxologist–but she’s still quite self-conscious. Let’s be honest–any dude who is THAT LUCKY to get close to a labia–would be wise to shut his yap-yap about what it looks like or he’ll find that he is no longer welcome in that fleshy, magical, wonderful kingdom.

Apparently, and thanks to the world of social media, there are blogs, blogs and tumblrs & more tumblersand whatnot dedicated to celebrating the labia–no matter the size. Bravo to those broads who are all about putting puss pix out there for all the world to see. <golf clap>

This is what has me flummoxed: Women do the crux of the living and breathing in this society, and our bodies are the physical evidence. We’re the ones who keep this world from sliding deeper into the shitter. However, even though we are the ones made of sterner stuff, we’re still made to feel like shit if we don’t look absolutely fucking perfect all the live-long day.

To that nonsense I say “What the entire fuck??!”

In short, there is nothing wrong with you–you’re perfect.

I’m just a whore, a social media whore

I dabble with Tumblr from time to time. I don’t know why I do this exactly, but I’ve been told that if i want to remain competitive in the job market, I have to whore myself out to all things social media. 

Personally, I find it all to be a huge pig fuck with very little return, which is why I only fiddle-fuck with Tumblr, Google+ and what-not when I’m not doing much except waiting to hear from my probation officer, or from my sugar daddy. 

So, if you’re bored and have run out of things to melt with your lighter, check out my Tumblr: 

http://mccrabass.tumblr.com/

I promise it’ll be somewhat amusing from time to time. 

 

The sun never sets on McCrabass

I’m now a full-fledged attention whore and have a Tumblr. All the cool kids have one and since I can’t seem to think for myself anymore, I had to take the leap. I don’t really know what the fuck it is either — I was just told to get one. NOW.

Take a gander at it when you have a moment please.

http://mccrabass.tumblr.com/

I’m feeling my way through it.

Suggestions and booze are always welcome.

Things not-so-mundane

I’ll be taking a little trip for a few days to defend my title.

So, until then, stay in the shallow end of the pool, don’t pick your nose in public and enjoy these fine tales I’ve highlighted below.

First, these are ugly, and I love Uggs. I just don’t wear them out in public because I don’t want to look like a hippo with suede legs and club feet. I don’t care how skinny you are — they aren’t flattering which is why I don’t get why any woman would want to wear something so unflattering on the most important day of her life. Suede cankles under silk. You may kiss the bride.

Um, nope. (photo courtesy of Clark+Walker Studio)

 

 

After reading this, I want a zebra and a drink. (from USAToday)

Iowa man with zebra, parrot arrested for DUI in bar lot

Breathe it in, folks. What about that hed stands out the most to you? I get the parrot and the zebra pairing since those are two species who might live in the wild together. DUI, man and Iowa, yep, kind of a no-brainer. However, when you put all those items together, you have a big bowl of wrong. It’s fun though.

“So, this man with a zebra and parrot walks out of a bar —

No, it’s not the set-up for a joke, but an intoxicatingly true story out of Dubuque, Iowa, according to news reports from the Hawkeye State.

Jerald Reiter, 55, of Cascade, Iowa, was backing his truck out of the Dog House Lounge parking lot Sunday night when police stopped him. His passengers? A small zebra in the back seat and a macaw parrot on his shoulder, the Telegraph Heraldreports.

Officers said Reiter’s blood-alcohol level was .14 (the limit is .08), so he was charged with driving drunk (officially, operating while intoxicated). He admits he was behind the wheel but was going to let his other passenger — his human buddy — do the driving, according to the local Gazette.

Reiter thinks someone in the crowd of gawkers called police to complain about the “welfare” of his novel pets, which often go for rides.

He said his local watering hole often allows pets, but not Sunday night, because the owner told him food was being served. TV station KCRG.com got a different story: no animals are ever allowed inside. (Will the bar owner be in the dog house if the alcohol and health inspectors stop by?)

Reiter’s girlfriend, Vicki Teter, told the Gazette that their animals “are a big part of the family,” and that she understands people’s reactions to their exotic pets.

“It’s not everyday you see somebody that’s got a zebra or a parrot in the house, and who knows tomorrow what might be in our house,” she said.”

I got nothing to add, except for the video….

Pennsylvania police officer broke into neighbor’s house, did laundry, cops say

I bet the homeowner wouldn’t have pressed charges had the officer done his clothes too. From the AP.

“AVALON, Pa. — Dirty clothes have a Pittsburgh-area police officer in hot water.
coplights.jpgView full sizeThe Patriot-News
Rankin police Officer Jason Rocco is charged with trespassing and criminal mischief for allegedly breaking into a neighbor’s home to wash his clothes.

Rocco was arraigned Saturday and released on his own recognizance.

WPXI-TV reports the home’s owner noticed his electric bill was unusually high, given that he hadn’t lived in the house for months. When the owner visited, investigators say he found the dryer running with Rocco’s clothes inside.

Avalon police who questioned Rocco say he told investigators the home’s back door was already broken and he “just had to do some laundry.”

A phone listing for Rocco could not be located Wednesday. A preliminary hearing is scheduled for Thursday.”

I don’t blame him for not going to a laundromat. The last time I blessed one of those establishments with my presence, I caught some slight-in-stature man trying to steal my knickers.

When I asked him why, he said, “The goat outside told me to.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk about your boyfriend.”

“Cunt.”

 

I want one of these t-shirts in every fucking color of the rainbow, then I’d give one to every woman I know. I’d wear this rag every damn day too. I don’t care if crewnecks are unflattering, or if they’ll start to fray after being worn day in and day out. It’s message is spot-on.

This has to do with an incident on an American Airlines flight where a woman was removed because she was wearing a t-shirt like this one. According to the airlines, the message on the shirt was offensive so she was told she either had to cover up the shirt or change into something more appropriate, or not fly. (I.E. something with no swears or offensive imagery on it.)

Now, had I been wearing this shirt and was asked to remove it, I would’ve. Sure. Why not? But, I’m gonna add a wrinkle — why replace the shirt? Why not just go topless? Shit howdy, I would. What’s the big deal? Seeing a nice pair of boobs isn’t the worst thing spied on a flight these days. We’ve all seen worse — from people travelling in pajama bottoms, (“the slobification of America” — thank you Tim Gunn), to this sassy gent.

When was it okay for American Airlines to make political statements by dictating what a passenger wears on her t-shirt? Like I stated earlier, I’ve seen much worse on flights — demeaning tattoos, over-pierced bodies, heinous t-shirts that are demeaning to women and minorities and I’ve never seen a member of a flight crew bat an eye — even after a fellow passenger complained about a sexist t-shirt that barely skimmed this other passenger’s ample tum-tum. All the flight attendant could do was shrug her shoulders. Funny, there’s a clause in an airline’s contract of carriage that the airline may refuse transport or remove a passenger from a flight if the passenger is “clothed in a manner that would cause discomfort or offense to other passengers” among other things. Most airlines’ contracts of carriage include such clauses, but the language may be different. I’ve rarely seen or heard of this rule being enforced.

Finally, this is my new favorite Tumblr. It’s replaced this blog.

Indifferent cats in amateur porn

It’s got cats, it’s got porn. What more could you possibly want?

Cake baby

I just have to weigh in here. But first, I must preface this post with that fact I’ve written about such odd soon-to-be-parents & new parents behavior before.

This latest trend? I’m at a loss.

Well, not really.

From the NYT. God love ’em.

(The text has been edited for space.)

A Boy or Girl? Cut the Cake

“THE house was filled with balloons and confetti, the chips and artichoke spinach dip were ready, and the guests, about 25 of them, were decked out in team colors, ready to cheer. Minutes before the party kicked off, they eagerly cast votes on the outcome.

But this festive gathering, held recently at the Miami home of Carolina and Carl Marrelli, was not a Super Bowl celebration. The decorations were all in very un-N.F.L. pinks and powder blues, and the sides involved were “Team Boy” and “Team Girl.”

“Team Boy” and “Team Girl”? Oh, this has got put-me-out-of-my-misery-with-a-pointed-stick-that’s-been-dipped-in-a-raging-festering-herpes-sore written all over it.

Joe and Ashley Brickner found out they are expecting a daughter.

“This was a gender-reveal party, during which expectant parents share the moment they discover their baby’s sex, unveiling results of the ultrasound test among loved ones (often replaying the moment later on Facebook or other social media). It’s the rare surprise party that people can give for themselves.

Until recently a little-known practice, the concept is quickly becoming a pre-parenting custom, a dress rehearsal of sorts — or sometimes a replacement — for the baby shower. In a culture where many expectant parents feel obligated to tweet their pregnancy announcement, live-post their ride to the hospital via Instagram, and Skype the baby’s first smile, it’s the latest example of one of parenthood’s formerly private moments becoming a matter of public consumption.

In the last year alone, the number of gender-reveal party discussion threads on BabyCenter — one of the most popular Web sites for new parents, with 11 million visitors a month — has rocketed to 282, from 28, a spokeswoman for the site said.”

With the meteoric rise in the popularity of social media, people now feel that everyone who inhabits this rock and has Twitter, Facebook, Fuckbook, Tumblr, Google+ et al accounts, needs to be privy to every single thought (including the most mundane), movement, reaction, dirty image, achievement, puppy & kitty image, vidyas of babies giggling/wretching, song choice et cetera, et cetera, at the very moment these events happen — no matter what. What’s even more disturbing is there is an audience for these events — a very large one, in fact. Some folks are friends with the poster, but if you tweet your personal life and you don’t have your settings set to private, millions of fellow Twittererersss will be privy to that twitpic of little Milo crowning through a hastily done episiotomy. Yummo. Why is this happening? Is it ego run amok?

Are expecting parents the new media whores?

“On YouTube, the first video of such an event dates from 2008. It shows the expecting parents simply opening a sealed envelope containing the ultrasound results before friends and family.”

YouTube shoulda seen the future and outlawed the future. Fuckers.

“A handful followed in 2009 and 2010. But in the last six months, more than 1,800 gender-reveal videos were uploaded onto the site.

Parents typically arrange for the ultrasound technician to withhold the gender finding from them. The technician places the information Oscars-style in an envelope, which the couple might then deliver to a baker, who whips up a pink or blue cake, covering the telltale color with frosting. The couple discover the gender when they cut the cake amid shrieking in-laws and fluttering confetti.

“It gave us more time to cry, laugh, scream and just be free to celebrate with all of our hearts, rather than to be in some dark room with a total stranger,” said Ms. Marrelli, 34, who live-streamed her results (boy) and the cheering throng in her home to dozens of other friends and family members around the country.

I find it so hard to believe that anyone outside of the immediate family (and even this is a stretch) gives a fiddler’s fart about the sex of the baby. Just tell them where to send the gift and maybe they’ll stop by for the first time at Junior’s 10th birthday. And the real reason the in-laws are shrieking? Because they know that they’ll be asked to babysit all the god-damn time and won’t be able to offer any parenting advice because new parents these days know EVERYTHING.

Again — fuckers.

“It was a way to get everyone involved, and you experience this huge payoff after all the building anticipation,” said Brett Grayson, 28, a high school social-studies teacher in Irving, Tex., who can be seen getting misty-eyed in the video of the celebration he posted on YouTube. “I’m normally not emotional, but when I saw the pink cake, it was like a flash of me teaching her to drive and marrying her off.”

Let me paint a different, more realistic picture of what your darling daughter will turn out to be. First,  the over-programming you and your wife will inevitably do in your wee daughter’s first few years of life will turn her into a bitter, resentful 10-year old. By the time she’s 12 she will have stolen three cars; spent time on the high school lacrosse team’s stank-ass mattress they keep in the equipment closet for such situations, and plotting the demise of the entire honors program. How do I know this? It’s science.

“Creative decorating tips for the parties have popped up on design blogs, and handmade knickknacks for gender-reveal parties are sold on Etsy shops (one seller offers pink and blue question-mark-shaped lollipops, 12 for $15).

Ashley (0f course) Brickner, a fashion marketing teacher and expectant mother in Virginia Beach, found out about the concept a few months ago, when she ran across ideas for festive décor on Pinterest.

So she and her husband, Joe, held their own party a few weeks ago. Since they each come from large families who live nearby, it just seemed natural, they said, to make this private moment public, particularly in an age when the family is likely to get updates on the baby’s development on Facebook.

You know, folks, you there isn’t a law that says you must tell every sordid detail about bebeh’s development on the Facebook. You can keep it to yourself and maybe do something a titch more productive like bullying your friends into having an over-the-top baby shower for you and 100 of your nearest and dearest. Just a thought.

“They’re going to be very much a big part of the baby’s life, so we thought it was just a cool way to incorporate them,” said Ms. Brickner, 28, whose cake was pink.”

Shit howdy, they just want the cake, not the expectations that come along with noshing on it.

“In rare cases, the gender-reveal party turns into a comic misfire, like the video of the Woodall party last year in Kentucky, at which it became clear the baker had given them the wrong cake: it was white inside. (“Epic fail!” a male voice booms in the background.)”  I bet he sued everyone in that bakery and put contracts out on the future children of the owners, the landlord’s family, the suppliers, the people who drive the supplies to the bakery, the people who breathe the air around and inside the bakery — you get the idea.

At increasingly popular parties, a baby’s gender is revealed via pink- or blue-colored cake.

Carl and Carolina Marrelli live-streamed their party.

Toni White

A pink shoe in the cake signified a girl is due.

“Donna Vela, who owns Little Angel Announcements, an online stationery store, said she began getting requests for gender-reveal party invitations about a year ago and now gets several orders a day.

“I think it goes with today’s Facebook generation that shares everything with everybody,” Ms. Vela said.

Indeed, Brooke Flatt, 24, sent out invitations on Facebook to the gender-reveal party she gave in February at Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst in New Jersey, where she lives with her husband, Airman First Class Bryan Flatt, 26.

“It was an excuse to throw a party,” said Ms. Flatt, who streamed the event live on Ustream for relatives in Mississippi. “We had cocktail food and I gave out cards for people to guess the weight, hair color and eye color for me to put in a scrapbook.”

The cake, which turned out to have pink icing between the layers, was decorated on the outside with bumblebees and the message: “What will it bee?”

Buddy Valastro, the host of the “Cake Boss” television show on TLC and the owner of Carlo’s Bake Shop in Hoboken, N.J., says that he makes several gender-reveal cakes a month, which cost $100 to $1,000.

“Some people go crazy and want something totally elaborate,” he said, such as multitiered cakes with startlingly lifelike fondant babies on top. “I think it’s a cool way for people to find out what they’re having.”

But Greg Allen, 44, a filmmaker in New York who also writes a blog for new fathers called daddytypes.com, said he found the trend baffling.

“Creating drama around your baby’s gender seems so staged and fake,” said Mr. Allen, who found out the sexes of both his children the comparatively old-fashioned way: with his wife in a sonogram examination room. “The whole connection of cutting into the cake to find out, like it’s a stand-in for the uterus, is sort of sickening.”

Oh, I just fell in love with this man. But, now I want some uterus cake. What’s that? Oh right. Fucker.

Kimberly Wageman, 37, of Richland, Wash., avoided this association by having guests at her gender-reveal party bite into cupcakes, which had dollops of blue icing inside. Her baby boy, now 6 months, was her third child.

I’m sorry — she had a party for her third pregnancy?

“The first one, we found out the sex when we had the ultrasound, the second we waited until she was born and the third we had a gender reveal,” said Ms. Wageman, a stay-at-home mom. “I couldn’t say which was best because they were all such unique experiences.”

I hope that someday these folks will consider not over-sharing to be a ‘unique experience.’