Thursday, March 22, 2007

All Thongs big and small.

Alright, this is going to be another why-are-older-sisters-so-bloody-annoying-drop-dead-now bitch fest. Well, mostly. So if you happen to be an older sister, I hope to dear god(*insert favourite deity's name*) that you're a nice sister to your younger sibling(s), ie: don't be a nag, hypocrite, ratter or just find any possible means of getting on their nerves. Don't be some unholy terror lest they be cursing the daylights out of you somewhere on the wonderful world of cyberspace like yours truly is about to do. No offence is intended though if you happen to be an elder sister AND a real bitch to your younger sibling(s), all offence intended.

On a side note, I discovered the Older Sister's Blog sometime ago (she's really LOUSY at covering her tracks), so absolutely saccharine sweet, peppered with liberal doses of 'Hallelujah!", "Praise Jesus Christ.", "In him I'm a stronger woman and stuff like that." and other PC(politically correct) garbage like NO swearing on this blog, only good clean fun. Just short of "This is a holy sanctuary in cyberspace where good things and praises abound." Which really bored me after a couple of superficial, candy flossed entries. Don't get me wrong, Jesus Christ is a good man, just not my thing and having to listen to hellfire and brimstone sermons every sunday is more than enough without the need to subject myself to it in cyberspace. Not to mention this very spiritual woman can be a veritable demon at times. How demonic? Take her thongs.

And yes I mean Thongs, g-strings and other lacy bits that really look no sturdier than a curtain sash with translucency that leaves nothing at all to the imagination. You must be thinking what a sick young bro I am rummaging through his sister's Lingerie drawer. Sister complex? Far from it, her thongs are the LAST thing I ever want to see. But it's really hard to not see or avoid it when she washes them and leaves them hanging on the shower rail in a wet, drippy line of lace and chiffon and god knows what else goes into lacy thongs and translucent(really transparent) flowery bras. Which means I have to push them back every time I want to take a shower and risk the inevitable splatter of droplets from the washed (?) thongs cum lingerie.

And let's not even talk about the odour from stale, not properly aired (let alone sunned) lingerie. Because as most of you know, toilets are really bad places for drying stuff. Shower areas tend to be wet and unlike hotels which come (relatively) nicely ventilated, toilets usually consist of a small window and a very small amount of sunlight. So you can picture the sight and smell I have to face every other day. Dripping thongs and other apparel all strung out in a line with the lingering faint but discernable miasma of salted fish. Which really stinks in case you have no idea how salted fish smells like -- think smelly sneakers. A scene fresh out of a Calcutta slum. To make matters worse, her royal stinkness usually flies into a rage when she discovers her 'neatly positioned' smelly load of wet thongs is out of alignment or 'too closely bunched together' as she calls it after I come out from the shower.

"When you bathe, go put them back properly and space it out, otherwise it can't dry!"
"I do, but you should hang it downstairs and not in the bathroom where it can dry properly."
"I wash my clothes in the toilet! Just hang it back properly!"
With a logic as unswervingly idiotic and one tracked as that, how can the Light of Reason ever hope to prevail in that Fog of Stupidity? Really but the last straw is as usual her double standardness. So I wear thongs sometimes too, not because I enjoy it but cuz sometimes it helps put one in the mood, and it makes the Boyfriend really happy. Naturally, thongs have to be washed so I dump mine in my laundry basket. And the Older Sister spots it sometimes and launches into an automatic sermon replete with disapproving frown.
"You actually wear something like this ?" *Accusing finger and crinkled nose.*
"... Ya why."
"That's so GAY!!! Only HOMOS would wear something like that." Contempt in her voice, face twisting in disgust like a dog just went on her lap. Which I fervently hope happens to her one day. If a dog will ever bear to be picked up by her in the first place that is.
"..." So I AM gay. Of course I can't tell the family that, they and that crazy church will try to exorcise me till I see the 'error of my ways'. I'm so used to their bigotry now it doesn't matter, and boy you'll be surprised at some of the wacko ideas they hold. But at least, woman. I wash my thongs in a WASHING MACHINE and hang them out to dry DOWNSTAIRS and not in some stinky drippy line in the TOILET where I have to SHOWER.

But of course the rationality of that statement eludes one like her. And I wonder why she wears them in the first place, to feel sexy? For whom? She doesn't even have a boyfriend. I wish to all the gods that she had, so she'd spend less time at home = less stinky thongs and less nagging. Get married to some poor sod! Even better though like my cousin Jon agreed, ya hard to see a guy wanting someone like her. Stupid woman.

Speaking about thongs, we all know they tend to be a little uncomfortable, unless you really like having something wedged between your ass. And such people I guess are few and far between. Contrary to popular belief, gays do not all wear thongs or wear it on a regular basis for that matter. Liking the feeling of having a dick up your ass is very different from enduring a mini wedgie between your ass cheeks. And not to mention that having a dick up your ass is not something you'll like for hours on stretch. Plus if you have the misfortune of having the thong/ g-string twist into some variation due to normal movement/ going to the loo, etc it usually means sizable pain and discomfort that requires an ASAP movement to the nearest loo/restroom to rectify the errant thong.

So naturally taking it off, be it by your lover or yourself (preferably the former of course), comes as a pleasurable relief. So much so that I usually, when over at his place, prefer to borrow one of his briefs and return in that instead of the thong. Granted, the thong might not be very wearable by the end of it but then again even if it is I prefer not to. And erm a bad habit of mine is that I usually tend to shove it in my pocket, especially if I'm not carrying a bag. Which ladies and Gentlemen is a big mistake. Never put your thongs in places which are easily forgotten and have the potential to embarrass.

So it was last Saturday, that I drove out with dad for lunch at the AMK ave 4 market, the Mother staying at home to mark her 'never ending pile' of books and the Sister doing god knows what. I just put on my berms that I had worn to the Boyfriend's place on Friday as my dad was objecting to how my fire-red NJC PE shorts looked so short as to be obscene. Berms that I had shoved a thong into and clean forgotten about. I thought the bulge in the side pocket was a packet of tissue.

So when the drinks lady came with our Teh Si Peng Sui Dai (iced tea with evaporated milk and no sugar) and his standard drug Kopi, I dug into the pocket I had shoved the change from the ten bucks I'd gotten from ordering mixed rice to pay the lady. And a camo printed netted G-string fell out and landed right plop at the lady's feet. She noticed straight away cause her eyes widened in surprise and she frowned really hard and for a moment I was mortified, staring at that grey-black-white patched G-string lying beside the Auntie's slippers before I promptly recovered snatching it up and hastily shoving it back into the other pocket, my ears burning. And I hastily paid her while she looked knowingly at me and walked off.

Thankfully, my blind-bat dad didn't notice a thing. Except that something fell. Just not a Thong.
"Eh, what did you drop? Your tissue again is it?"
"Always tell you not to keep your dirty tissue in your pockets. You never listen."
And he continued eating his wanton mee. Thankfully, neither of the Twin Terrors were present, with their eagle eyes and bigoted acid tongues, I'd never hear the end of it.

So Boys and Girls, if you must wear thongs, remember don't be an idiot like me and shove your thongs into places where they'll be most likely to pop up and embarass you at a time you least expect it. And I pray you never ever have to face the ignominy of enduring stinky, drippy thongs in your bathroom by idiotic family members. If you are such a family member, I hope the rot sets in you-know-where. Retribution for all that odorous pain and damp you inflict on the hapless innocent.

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