It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 55

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws. Or people I work with. Or neighbors who are raising feral cats. Or the ghost of Liberace.


Today's topic: My New Pink Button
  
Sometimes, gentle reader, a vajacial is just not enough. 

Perhaps after your vagina has been ripped, tweezed, buffed, exfoliated, powdered, masqued, and had "Goodnight Moon" read to it, you are tucking it in for the night and you think, "Honey, you look a little pale.  Are you okay?"  And perhaps you are one of those people who might stare at their own vagina for a VERY VERY long time, like other people might watch a sleeping baby, or a movie, or three-day biopic.  And then perhaps, just perhaps, you are of the opinion that young vaginas are very pink vaginas, and maybe yours is on the pale side, and you develop a DYE SO YOU CAN ARTIFICIALLY COLOR YOUR LABIA.  Because NO ONE wants an old, pale pussy.  No one.

Get your things in order.  The Mayans were right. 

Yes, ladies, your prayers have been answered.  For only $29.95, you can dye your labia back to it's original jailbait shade of fuschia.

NEXT FRIDAY NIGHT
ME:  "Hey Gail, what are you doing tonight?"
GAIL:  "Not much - the kids are out with their dad."
ME:  "Mine are at the basketball game.  Hey!  I have a great idea!"
GAIL:  "What?!"
ME:  "Why don't you come over and we can dye our vaginas!"
GAIL:  "Awesome!  I'll bring the champagne and the rhinestones, let's tat those bitches up!"
ME:  "Don't forget the outline for the PTA fundraiser."
GAIL:  "Got it right here."

Apparently, the owner/founder/colorist for My New Pink Button was concerned that her kitten had started looking like an old bleached out feral alley cat.  Naturally, she went online to research her desired coochie color, and found THOUSANDS of people online who had the exact. same. problem.  Which makes me weep a little for the world.

She developed her product.  I will assume that some of the blends maybe didn't work out.  Whose labia burned with those mistakes?  How many vaginas suffered so you could have a perfectly pink pita pocket?  Just like when you were head cheerleader?

Let me take a moment to say that the founder of My New Pink Button is gorgeous, and probably smart, and found a product that apparently people want.  Her packaging is great (ba-dum-dum!), and I love the names of the different colors of product.  They also apparently help with cosmetics for post-op breast cancer patients, and perhaps this product makes people feel good, and improves their self-esteem, and for that I say bravo.  The company seems legit, but a little tongue in cheek (eeew, I know, right?), and I can appreciate some humor. 

But I have trouble getting past the words "labia dye". 

I have a question for the Pink Button people - why stop at pink?  What if I want to go a little farther on the color wheel?  Maybe I want a Purple People Eater.  Or Green Eggs and Ham.  Or maybe I want to be a slutty Smurfette.  Or perhaps I don't want to stop with my labia.  Maybe I want to be Rainbow Brite in my Hinterlands.  What if I want a turquoise uterus?  Then where do I turn, Pink Button people?  Where?  I see a huge gap in the market that needs to be filled. (These jokes just make themselves up.)

Move over Easy button.  There's a New Pink Button in town.

Because feminism was about choices.  Betty Friedan didn't make all those cake mixes so we could live with pale vaginas.  She wanted us to have choices.  She wanted our buttons to be able to be both Easy AND Pink.  Now we can finally have it all.  Yay, feminism!  Make mine the color of Watermelon Sherbet!  With sprinkles!

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  May your buttons be easy and your labias be as pink as they wanna be!

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 46

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws. Or people I work with. Because there are many things I don't need you people to know about me. SO STOP READING, CO-WORKERS. You know who you are.




Today's topic: Gleedophilia

This week, Whoreticulture Friday is all about being on top of today's hot and fresh headlines.  Who is hot and fresh this week?  Some of those nutty kids from Glee.  You may be thinking to yourself, "Julie, this is a far cry from cock rings," but to you I say, "Is it, gentle reader?  IS IT?"  Because according to next month's issue of GQ magazine, those Glee Girls are fresh from Berlin and the Reeperbahn District.

The Parent's Television Council is upset about the photos because they claim they are bordering on pedophilia, but I disagree.  No one looking at those photos is thinking about little girls, they are thinking about Catholic school girls playing dress-up in fetish clothing.  Completely different.

And must we ALWAYS assume that when a 24-year-old woman wants to be photographed in her panties and bra and knee socks and stillettos and favorite lollipop it is SEXUAL?  I can offer some non-sexual takes on these photos.  It is the Liberal Media Bias Legislating From The Bench as Career Politicians who Approved This Message.  That's where the misunderstandings happen.

"My blood sugar is low.  So.  Low. 

Which is what made me forget to

wear pants to school and simulate

fellatio with a blow pop."

"I am so angry with myself for

forgetting that spike heels will

ruin the gym floor!  I deserve to

be roundly punished!"

"This is totally my favorite shirt from

the Gap because it has spandex in it,

so it's really flexible, like me! 

Wanna see me put this fuschia

pump behind my head?

"Yay, reading!  We love books! 

Look, here's a book on Exploitation! 

I'm going to bend over in my short skirt

and high heels to read it!

"I did such a good job polishing this bench

that you can see my vagina in it! 

Hooray for Brazilians!"

Okay, this one actually pisses me off.
When are we going to stop objectifying men?
This poor, innocent young man is forced to palm
those supple buttocks in a way that says,
"Hey, I'm up for two chicks at once!"
when he is clearly uncomfortable about it.
And?  Do we *need* to see his forehead?
Get a hat, dude!

See?  It's all just media slant.  And as they say, Glee is not being marketed toward teens AT ALL.  And if my teen sees these photographs, which is not likely because thank goodness there isn't any kind of crazy space-age worldwide web that will bring up these pics every time she types "Glee" in Google, she won't think they are cool at all, because they are purposely set up to be as unsexy and uncool as possible.  I mean, how many teenage girls are eating Blow Pops?  That is SO fourth grade.  And knee socks?  Please. 

I just hope the boys DO see these pictures in GQ, because they send an important message: Even if really hot girls with smokin' bods are squirming all over you and forcing their buttocks in the palm of your hands, you should KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON and STICK TO YOUR VALUES.  If more boys would behave in this way, teen pregnancies would go way down.  So thank you, GQ.  Thank you for caring about the youth of America, and reminding us that no matter how strong your favorite female characters are on your favorite show, they are really just sluts deep down inside, trying to get a man.

*julie slow claps for GQ here*

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  Have a great weekend!

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 33

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.


Today's topic: Summer Hair Management.

I'm sort of a slacker mom.  Granted, we've been pretty busy so far this summer, but I took my kids to the pool for the first time last week, and their summer break is halfway over.  The kids have been to the pool - they've been in swimming lessons, been with friends, and went with our local park board.  But I, the Wife, had not stripped down for the community at the local pool until last week.  Preparing for my pool trip made me realize what a hairy woman I have become in my old age.

 Actual photo of me at pool, playing water guns with kids.

Every woman deals with this issue on some level.  Honestly, I don't shave my legs much between Thanksgiving and St. Patrick's Day.  Why bother?  Current Husband isn't going to turn me down because he doesn't have a girlfriend yet and I am his only option.  Besides, it keeps me warm.  But in the summer?  You don't want even one little unsightly hair poking out of anything.  Let me break it down for you from head to toe:

 Me at PTA event in May.

I think the flower in my hair is a nice touch.

Eyebrows

I am a total Freda Kahlo.  If I don't pluck my eyebrows every few hours, I will grow a Bridge to Terabithia between my eyes.  Now that I am over 40, some of those hairs are gray or white, and much harder for me to see with my reduced vision.  I always seem to notice those little buggers about 10 minutes before I'm ready to walk out the door.  Last night is a great example - CH and I attended a John Deere Classic Golf Tournament dinner with some friends.  Nice event.  I wore a dress.  But as we were leaving home, I noticed a few stray eyebrow hairs, and I had to pluck them.  HAD. TO. And of course, I got huge welts on my eyebrows.  I told people I was hit in the forehead by a stray golf ball on my way into the event.  Kenny Parry got me an ice pack.  Zach Johnson suggested cucumber slices from the salad.

 Kids!  Let's get some ice cream with Higgins!

Mustache

There is nothing hotter than a mother of three with a fluffy 'stache.  Again, over 40, darker hair, more prevalent.  What is that all about?  I didn't have a mustache in college!  I had very little unsightly hair before I was 25.  It's like God WANTS you to get pregnant before you're ready.  I get that bad boy waxed every few months, but I have to be sure not to schedule anything in the afternoon, because when the Tom Selleck is yanked off my face, I get a huge pink Hitler for a few hours afterward.  They even douse me with witch hazel or vodka or something, and yet, I sport the FemiNazi until dinner.

 It appears that Alec Baldwin and I 

share more than calling our 

children names on their voicemail...

Nipples

Oh, you heard me.  I said it.  Nipples.  And I know lots of women who get stray hairs around their nipples, so don't EVEN try to tell me this is shocking in any way.  Fortunately, my nipular hair level has not reached shaving level, because I never want to say to CH, "Hey, wanna get it on?  I just shaved my tits."  I'm a plucker.  A mother plucker.  So hot.  Speaking of hot...

I'll pluck yours, Rob, if you pluck mine...

Stomach

Yep, here too.  I've heard this called the Dirt Trail, but Urban Dictionary, the go-to resource for Whoreticulture Friday, says that is actually a disgusting fecal issue, so don't take my word for it.  I had a friend in high school who was plucking dark hairs from her navel to her dealio, and I thought, "Wow, that sucks".  Now I think of her as a pluck those stray bad boys, because she has a terrific job and probably gets hers professionally done while sipping a Mojito and reading "W".  Touche.

Bikini Line - really, you don't want an image here.

I am not brave enough to wax yet, so I am a shaver, despite warnings from my OB-GYN friend from high school who says to be careful with the razor because she has put stitches in a LABIA (cringe) from someone doing their own bushwhacking.  And let me tell you, it is hard to be thorough for swimsuit wearing.  I was very conscious about leg placement at the pool, because honestly, I am getting old and not as bendy as I used to be, and I was a little concerned about being surrounded by hairless teens in small bikinis.  Enough said.  As for Brazilians, let me just tell you that my pain tolerance level is quite low, and until they are giving epidurals with Brazilians, I will not carry a passport.  No travel to Brazil for me.

I look just like this, 

if you add three pregnancies, 

loads of spider veins, 

hairy German bloodlines,

and 15 boxes of girl scout cookies.

 

Legs

I always shave my legs in the summer, but I notice there are spots on my knees that I miss, which is weird.  I also occasionally notice longer dark strays on the back of my thighs a few inches above my knees, like there are a couple of hairs that seem to duck whenever I am shaving, and suddenly they are an inch long and showing off my German heritage.  I guess I'm married, so who gives a shit, but really, it's more about the principle.  I used to have great legs, it was my favorite feature, but then I had kids.  Some families pass down sterling silver or china.  Some families pass down stock or ownership in companies.  My family passes down the chin gobbler, Alzheimer's, and varicose veins.  Thanks, ancestors!  Now I have a map of Toledo on the backs of my legs, so really?  The hair can stay.

I get my pedicures done in Middle Earth with Frodo.

Toes

My big toes have hair on them too.  I also had five wisdom teeth, so it's like my people really haven't evolved that much from the apes.  I've been known to shave my big toes.  It's like my razor sees me coming and goes, "Oh Christ, really?"  I think I just need an all-over waxing.  Wax on, wax off.  Just like the Karate Kid.  But hairier.  And sadder.

I'm sorry to burst your bubble people, but I'm not too sexy for my shirt.  But I may be a little too hairy for it.  I know.  Current Husband is one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  Keep on waxing and have a great weekend!  St. Joseph story to come, he couldn't fit into Whoreticulture Friday, Sunday seems a little more appropriate.

 

Hey Mom, Could You Vagazzle Me?

Whoever said Disco sucks must know Jennifer Love Hewitt's vagina.

In January of this year, Jennifer appeared on the ‘Lopez Today’ show with George Lopez to give some dating tips and promote her new book, "The Day I Shot Cupid".  Go ahead.  Click the link and watch.  I'll wait.  One of her tips was to glue shiny things right on your privates. She also revealed that she was, at that very moment, sporting a vagina decorated with hot pink Swarovski crystals, which made George Lopez and his audience need to take a moment for visualization. “After a breakup, a friend of mine Swarovski-crystaled my precious lady,” she said. “It shined like a disco ball so I have a whole chapter in there on how women should vagazzle their vajayjays.”

Her precious lady.  Thank you, Jennifer Love Hewitt.

 I have crystals on my vagina and you don't.

At first, I was a little thrown by this.  It seems so easy to make fun.  But you have to feel for Jennifer Love Hewitt because she seems like such a nice girl, who just REALLY wants to be in love.  It is, after all, her middle name.  She's gone public a number of times with her desire to get married, and in the last People magazine she said she has an engagement ring picked out that she goes in to try on once in a while, and some wedding dresses on standby.  She seems nice and normal and doesn't appear to have a drug problem or an eating disorder or sleep with anyone from The Hills.  John Mayer purportedly wrote a song about her you might know, called, "Your Body Is a Wonderland".  

So why can't Jennifer find love?  Could it be that when she is getting hot and heavy with a beau and he goes below deck, there is a sparkling in her panties, like she is a human but her vagina is a vampire?  Could it be that when he sees the disco ball on her precious lady he does The Hustle right out of there?  Does he get Boogie Fever from complications from the cuts he might receive from her cut glass cave?  But I like J Love, and if she wants to vagazzle her vajayjay, that is her cross to bear.

Moving beyond Jennifer and her need to sparkle plenty, I wonder about the person who is applying the crystals.  I did a little research and found that you can book a Ladies Crystal Party, where you and three to six of your best friends can go in for a little blingy on your thingy.

Using Swarovski™ body art, choose a delicate design or create your own masterpiece working with one of our Crystal Art Artisan.

• Individual Crystal Body Art application.
• Qua Exfoliating Body Scrub with Crystal Body Art application.
• Ladies Crystal Body Art Parties (4 to 7).

60 min: from $130

I am thinking this is for a crystal butterfly on your shoulder, but if you ask for a mongoose on your muffin I'm betting they will happily do it for an extra fee.  I'm also making the assumption that you will be expected to have a Brazilian to get this service, unless they are going to just put some guiding lights down the sides of your runway strip, but it would take a very special Crystal Body Art Application Technician to agree to bling a full bush.

 I want a killer whale diving into mine!

Now that I know this service exists in the world, I need to know the particulars.  I'm becoming obsessed with Jennifer Love Hewitt's vagina.  I'm doing dishes and I think, "How do they apply her crystals?  Is she laying back, legs spread, drinking wine from a straw?  What is the name of her technician?  Does she call her by name?"  I'm folding towels and I think "How long do Jennifer Love Hewitt's vagina crystals stay on?  Do they start falling out of her clothes?  Does she scratch herself after peeing?"  I'm packing the kids' lunches and I think, "Does J Love's vagazzaling require special underwear?  Don't the crystals catch on most panties?"  I will be driving the kids to cello lessons and think "Is it like a pedicure, where they have to remove the old polish to put on the new?  How does she pick her design?  Does she do themes, like Abe Lincoln for President's Day, or Jesus for Easter?"   

Her vagina has become the siren call for all people with vaginas.  She is now setting the bar for caring for all of our Precious Ladies.  If your dealio is not encrusted with crystals, maybe you don't care so much.  Where is the love, ladies?  Where?

If you are vagazzaling your vajayjay, I want to hear about it.  Release me from my torment.  I need to know.

Because Proper Grooming Is Important

In an article that is sure to go viral, a few of my man-friends on Facebook have posted the following article and asked for input from the women:
Florida Driver Lacks Razor Sharp Focus 

As authorities nationwide warn motorists of the dangers of driving while texting, Florida Keys law enforcement officers add a new caution: Don't try to shave your privates, either.

Florida Highway Patrol troopers say a two-vehicle crash Tuesday at Mile Marker 21 on Cudjoe Key was caused by a 37-year-old woman driver who was shaving her bikini area while her ex-husband took the wheel from the passenger seat.

"She said she was meeting her boyfriend in Key West and wanted to be ready for the visit," Trooper Gary Dunick said. "If I wasn't there, I wouldn't have believed it. About 10 years ago I stopped a guy in the exact same spot ... who had three or four syringes sticking out of his arm. It was just surreal and I thought, 'Nothing will ever beat this.' Well, this takes it."

If that weren't enough, Megan Mariah Barnes was not supposed to be driving and her 1995 Ford Thunderbird was not supposed to be on the road.

The day before the wreck, Barnes was convicted in an Upper Keys court of DUI with a prior and driving with a suspended license, said Monroe County Assistant State Attorney Colleen Dunne. Barnes was ordered to impound her car, and her driver's license was revoked for five years, after which time she must have a Breathalyzer ignition interlock device on any vehicle she drives, Dunne said. Barnes also was sentenced to nine months' probation.

Barnes and Charles Judy were southbound in her Thunderbird at 11 a.m. when they slammed into the back of a 2006 Chevrolet pickup driven by David Schoff of Palm Bay. His passengers were a man and two women; the latter were treated for minor injuries at Lower Keys Medical Center, FHP spokesman Alex Annunziato said.

Schoff had slowed to about 5 mph to make a turn when the Thunderbird hit him, traveling about 45 mph, which was within the speed limit, Dunick said.  Barnes allegedly drove another half-mile, then switched seats with Judy, who allegedly claimed to be driving, Annunziato said.

Burns on Judy's chest from the passenger-side airbag deploying belied their story, Dunick said. The airbag in the steering wheel did not deploy, he said.  Troopers charged Barnes with driving with a revoked license, reckless driving, leaving the scene of a wreck with injuries and driving with no insurance. Judy was not charged.  Barnes faces a maximum of a year in jail if found guilty of violating her probation due to the wreck, Dunne said.

I understand the importance of a nicely trimmed hedge, as evidenced by this post:
The First Ever Whoreticulture Friday on...Bushwhackery!!! 

And I can also relate to feeling the need to multitask.  I may put on some lipstick while stopped at a stoplight.  I may take a drink of my Starbuck's skinny vanilla latte while driving.  But something I will NEVER, EVER do?  Hold my vagina hostage with a razorblade while doing 45 mph with my EX-HUSBAND at the wheel...from the PASSENGER SEAT. 

There are so many wrongs in this story that it very nearly makes a right.

I'm actually impressed that Miss Megan Mariah Barnes had the presence of mind to make the seat switch with her ex, because after this crash, I am guessing the boyfriend in Key West who was expecting some topiary is going to be tending to his own gardening for a while.
 
Let's recap:

1. Holds a blade to her netherparts...
2. While driving with a suspended license from a DUI...
3. With ex-husband driving the car...
4. (I mean 1995 Ford Thunderbird...)
5. While she preps her dealio for her Current Boyfriend (CB)...
6. Crashes the car into a truck...
7. And asks Ex-husband to take the rap.

Hmm.  This sounds oddly familiar.

Urban Dictionary, I give you the RIDE OR DIE DUMBASS EX.  Part of "But Wait There's More Monday", an extension of the March 5 Whoreticulture Friday.  Because some stories are too big for Friday alone.  As for my male friends on Facebook who want the women to spill the goods on their mobile bushwhacking?  I gave them this post:

"That's nothing. I've had a pap smear on I-80 in a construction zone driving an 18-wheeler. Get back to me when you have some real news."

 Ask and ye shall receive.  I am nothing if not a giver.  

It's Whoreticulture Friday!

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygeine mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture.

I'm taking a page from NPR's Science Friday - every other Friday will be Whoreticulture Friday, when I will report on the field of Whoreticulture. If you have any suggestions for topics in the study of whoreticultury, I welcome them.

Today's topic: Bushwhackery.

Watching television with my kids has become increasingly interesting. Not only are they getting older and better able to understand the commercials, the commercials are getting into our pants a lot more than they used to. I give you Viagra, Levitra, Mother Nature, and best of all, Schick and the topiary commercials.

IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU CLICK THE TITLE "It's Whoreticulture Friday!" OF THIS POST TO TAKE YOU TO THE SCHICK "MOW THE LAWN" VIDEO. THEN HIT THE BACK BUTTON TO COME BACK TO THE BLOG. If you haven't seen this commercial, it will change your life. It did mine.

Did you click it? Are you nearly wetting your pants? Because if you are, you should really be doing some Kegel exercises. More on that later.

Never feel untidy-
Just spruce up your aphrodite!

I have to say that the first time I saw this commercial was on YouTube, and I think it is the British version. The version I see on TV is quite a bit more tame (pun intended!), and yet, my 10-year-old son somehow knows what they are talking about. It brings me back to an e-mail conversation between my high school friends years ago regarding personal hedge trimming.

A bunch of us got together for a weekend, and one of them is an OB-GYN. I could spend every single day with her at the office. Not because I want to look at anyone's treasure trove in stirrups, but because I want to stand in the hall and talk to her about every single patient she sees.

ME: "So, Doc, what was her deal?"
HER: "The usual, pap and pat, no issues."
ME: "Was she tattooed? Piercings? Look like she likes it rough?"
HER: "No, none of that. But she was trimmed in the shape of Florida."
ME: "Excellent."

Whenever we get together, we try to ply our OB friend with wine and get her to tell us stories, but she rarely does, probably because she is a good doctor who doesn't dish. She will occasionally give us educational stories, like "Be careful with the type of thong you wear, I had to lance a boil last week." We don't want names or gossip, we just want to know what kind of wacky shit goes on in those rooms.

For instance, once, when I had to go to Student Death in college because my monthly deal was so heavy I thought I was bleeding to death, the woman doctor finished up and said "Looks like endometriosis - is there anything else you want me to look for?" and I couldn't help myself, I had to say, "Yes, I lost a watch recently." I thought it was hilarious, but the doctor rolled her eyes, snapped off her latex gloves, said "check out at the desk" and walked out. These are the stories I need to hear.

Anyway, after a few glasses of wine, I asked my OB friend how people maintain themselves - does she see a lot of Brazilians? Strips? Shapes? Hairy Growler? She said she has seen it all, and to be careful if you're a shaver, she has put in stitches when someone cut their labia with a razor while shaving. (Taking a moment to shudder.)

After the weekend, we e-mailed each other about this topic. What do you do? We started talking about the different things we do, and stories we'd heard from friends. (Such as the gal whose friend got her starfish waxed - think about that for a second - but only once. Or the woman who decided to go Brazilian, and as soon as they got the wax on, she sat up and tried to leave because she freaked out, and said she would've run down the streets of Chicago with no pants and a big patch of wax on her taco.)

So as we're talking, one friend who wasn't with us that weekend sent a panicky e-mail that said, "GIRLS! What is this!? Does everyone do some sort of trimming, because I never have! Are all of my high school boyfriends talking about my huge bush!?!" So we all e-mail her what we do to reassure her that yes, they are all talking about her.

In the middle of our e-mail frenzy, she sends out another e-mail with the subject "STOP" and reads, "Hello. Please stop e-mailing me about this. I will explain later." It turns out that the guys in IT sent her an e-mail reminding her about the No Personal E-mails Policy at her job. At the time, she was a VP of a large department at a national corporation. Shortly thereafter, her boss sent her an e-mail saying, "The IT department has informed me that you are sending and receiving a large number of personal e-mails, and that you should re-acquiant yourself with the personal e-mail policy."

Oh yeah. The IT department guys, likely all crowded around one computer in the dark IT room, now knew she was sporting a hairy growler, and had possibly enlightened her boss. However, they waited until she had received over 25 e-mails describing every possible way Aphrodite could be styled.

Well played, IT guys. Well played.

Happy Whoreticulture Friday, and have a great weekend!