7 Reasons Why Men Don’t Wear Lace

1. Cuz most straight men are pathetically homophobic and even fashion-conscious gay men don’t seem to favor lace. Thus, a scarcity of lace on the bods of the menfolk. A+B=C, get it?

2. Because blue and green and gray lace, for example, are hard to find. Those are manly colors, and manly men don’t want to forgo them for like-a-virgin white, nursemaid cream or pretty in pink. Duh. It’s a simple color diversity problem.

3. Because most men still don’t recognize what many women know to be true: it hurts to be beautiful. That’s right. Do you think women LIKE the feel of itchy lace on our tits and ass? Not really, but we do it because it’s pretty, goddammit. This is an aesthetics appreciation problem.

4. Lace is delicate. It rips easily. Many men enjoy how easily it rips from a female form, but wouldn’t stand for such flimsiness in their own choice of attire. Why? Because many men (oh boy, I sure am enjoying all these generalizations!) practically need to live in a brown canvas jump suit, or any other material that can handle profuse scratching, farting and not show grease stains.

5. Because Calvin Klein still won’t design lacey men’s underwear (I’m thinking steely gray, silk lace thong briefs- very sexy and simple). I’m not sure why. I’ve tried to persuade him, but goddammit, he won’t fucking listen. I just wanna see billboards of men in lace underwear. Is that too much to ask?

6. Because there’s no Victoria’s Secret for men. Really, now . . . it’s just pure discrimination. Hello! Ever heard of man-gerie!

7. Because Lacey is a girl’s name. Women don’t wear any fabrics called Bob or Stew or Herbert, so there ya go . . . it’s a nomenclature problem.

Picking Your Nose While Driving . . .

That's right, I saw you. I didn't want to see you, but I did, so now I have to sound off about this.

Here's a tip. If you're going to pick your nose and eat it while people may be watching, please have the courtesy not to display the fact that you obviously relish your little bout with rhinotillexomania (hey, there's a word for you- look it up and learn about yourself). I had an upset stomach this morning when I stopped at the intersection when I casually looked over at you in the car next to me and watched in paralyzed horror as you smiled after you popped a big messy one in your mouth. That almost sent me over the edge.

I know of the so-called health benefits touted by geeky, disgusting doctors about the supposed immune-boosting benefits of eating your mucus. Despite these claims, I still don't think it's necessary to snarf on your snot in public. Go ahead, pick till your heart's content, put it in a jar or hanky, even, for later enjoyment in the privacy of your home or some other place where innocent bystanders don't have to be subjected to your depravity. But please, please, please don't let me see a green goblin lurking at the corner of your mouth. Ever again.