Having an organized and stylish place to keep your weed that you can leave out in plain sight is an option any adult deserves.
I'm kind of a scholar on the topic of underbutt. I mean, I've been quoted. It is one of my favorite looks and it has been getting a ton of press lately -- summer shorts are getting teenier and teenier and Miley Cyrus and Rihanna have both been photographed revealing their butt creases.
But it's one thing to flash underbutt to the papparazzi, another to test the look out in real life. I volunteered to take it to the streets for Jane Pratt and document a day in the life of my underbutt.
(Note: Jane actually wanted me to do this look, but even I have my limits, even if my iconic boss does not.)
Still, I didn't want to skip on my bottom-skimming shorts. I needed some skin-tight non-stretch denim that would leave my lady lumps exposed and jigglin' two inches below my shorts hem. I went to our resident tease/hip girl, Annie and boy did that slut DELIVER. She loaned me five pairs of booty shorts that ranged from chill-cool-whispering-whore cheekage to OH-MY-GOD-IS-THAT-HER-COLON shorts.
I settled on these:
I immediately texted that selfie to Annie and she never responded and I'm still pretty upset about it.
Getting dressed when ass cheeks are your main accessory is hard because honestly you just can't stop staring in the mirror. I think I stood there for a a solid half-hour, bending up and down watching the crest of my ass appear and disappear. It is what I imagine loving yourself must feel like.
I met my weekend buddy who has to remain nameless because she is kind of famous and I don't want her to be implicated in any arrests that may result due to the nature of this very serious investigative reporting. I told her that she would have to take photographs of me from behind all day for this article and because I needed to make sure I still looked hot-ish like every three blocks or so.
She was not really impressed and I think she was expecting what Jane wanted, but I'm not going to do that because, again, I have some boundaries.
So we get to our super-cool Williamsburg four-hour-wait brunch spot and we get a table immediately because we are the only people awake in Williamsburg on a Saturday before 10 am. Or was it the ass?
Haha just kidding, there are no ass men in hipster Brooklyn. (If you know one though, get at me.)
This was mid-NYC heatwave and sitting at a table in the middle of summer with my pretty much bare ass sticking to the chair was straight up uncomfortable. On the pro side, walking through a brunch crowd with your BAH-dunk seeping out makes you kinda feel like a boss because most normies are not really emotionally available enough to see that much woman first thing in the AM.
We went to see a movie, but sitting for extended periods of time in these shorts is kindof a crapshoot. You see, when you get up there is a very good chance they will be higher up your ass than when you sat down, and you run the risk of your bits really becoming really really apparent. So note to the new kids: When standing up, check your bits.
Walking to the Bus Stop
So like, I waddle. I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I waddle like pretty violently. If you look at all of my shoes, the outside of all of my heels are worn down significantly more than the inside. This is why, I think, I did not get cat-called in my underbutt shorts. I can't really swagger like I normally do in heels, and I can't wear heels and underbutt shorts because then I would have to carry a tazer with me.
I don't know though, it could have been because honestly, what is there to call? Like you can have an entire conversation with my underside face-to-face. So why yell at me? You are getting a pretty free show as it is, so you probably should just keep your mouth shut and stare. I mean, god forbid I turn around and face you.
Oh yeah, on my walk I found this:
It is mine, and I just wanted to show it to you because it is my most prized possession right now.
Taking the Bus
I don't think this is a New York City thing exclusively, but oh my god, buses are so cold I can't even. I was freezing. My belly button was toasty as was the nape of my back, but my ass cheeks were frozen to the plastic seats after two stops. You have to take violent changes in temperature into account when you leave the house half-naked. I did not.
I actually thought I would never feel warmth again when I was on the B43. I had the flu when I got off the bus. And not because of all the bus germs I was rubbing my naked ass skin against, because I didn't even think about that until Emily brought it up the next day. I mean, I sit on toilet seats.
Anyway, I was pretty much home and nothing crazy had happened at all. I got literally no attention in these things -- or maybe it was just all happening very quietly behind me and I couldn't see what was going on?
Taking off the Shorts
Well, this was hard. By the time I got home, the heat and the walking had truly made the denim one with my lil' dumptruck. For a second I thought I was going to have to call Annie and have her come over and help me out of them, but then I remembered how mad I was at her for not texting back before, and I threw my phone across the room. Then I took a nap in my A/C filled room (I'm rich) and hoped that the cool air would cause my ass to shrink and the shorts to loosen and I could get out of them.
Then I woke up and vomited. True story. They were really tight and it was really hot that day and I didn't unbutton them before I fell asleep.
Eventually, I did manage to wriggle out of them on my bathroom floor and as I stared up at my only slightly moldy bathroom ceiling I felt like I had accomplished something. I have no idea what.
But the good news is that I got out of the shorts without destroying them, which means I can wear them again next weekend.
Give me more dares. I'll do anything that wont get me killed. Also, tweet at me.