Posts Tagged ‘sexy girls’

Here in the callipygian offices of The Curmudgeon, we are appreciative of the female form, all shapes and sizes, and not limited to only desiring one body type. There is much beauty to be seen, if you’d only look with an open mind.

Sumlee Anderson: You've got to admit, that looks mighty interesting!

There are some men however that have a predictilation toward a large posterior, which is fine with me, whatever makes your thermometer rise. But there is now another dangerous trend just now developing. The trend I speak of is Booty Pop Underwear. This is panties that make women appear to have a larger behind than they actually have. The purpose of said panties is arguably to attract men, just like the miracle bra before them.

This is blatant false advertising. Should you find yourselves in a romantic situation, the thing that attracted the man to you in the first place turns out to be an illusion. This can be compared to a man who stuffs his underwear with a pair of socks. The woman think he has a big deli dill pickle and he turns out to have nothing more than a little sweet gherkin. You would not be pleased at the hocus pocus, would you ladies? I think not, so why do you insist on doing the same to men (or maybe to make other women jealous.) I don’t even want to get started on breast enlargements, but at least they’re actually there, real or not. Your new big bottom won’t be, in the same way that your miracle bra’d chest isn’t really there.

Of course the bottom line (Ha! I said bottom) is I don’t really care. It’s kind of funny, both men’s desire for an extra-large bottom and the women that pretend to have them. It wasn’t all that long ago that a big bottom was an object of ridicule. I don’t mind them either. Sometime, I rather like them. There’s just more, you know, and more is a good thing.

I like big butts and I cannot lie,

A big butt can make me cry,

You can do push up and sit ups,

But please don’t loose that butt

Or something like that.

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Here in the mature offices of The Curmudgeon, we are all adults and childish, prudish attitudes are not tolerated.  That’s about the only thing that’s not tolerated.  Sometimes these posts lean to the adult, R rated, though they are actually rather tame.  Such is this one.  Adult oriented, I mean.  So if you are easily offended, you should stop reading right now, but I thank you very much for visiting.
It’s a tragic story, this, but is probably a behavior that many readers here engage in themselves.  A 30 year old nanny has died of a heart attack while enjoying a vibrator and viewing porn on her computer.  The story laid out when the nanny failed to show up for work.  Her employer became alarmed when she also failed to answer her phone, and traveled to her apartment, where a neighbor who had been given a key entered her apartment and found her in bed with a vibrator by her side and porn playing on the radio.  The official cause of death was heart  arrhythmia while pleasuring herself.  In short, death by vibrator.
The anti-porn people will have a field day with this one, using our erstwhile Mary Poppins for the political and religious agenda.  Leave her alone you vultures, you propagandist perpetrators.  Have a little respect for the lady and her healthy activity.  Poor dear probably never had a heart problem in her life.
Tragedy happens to good people too.
(This story was reported in The Sun UK and on The Frisky.  Special thanks to friend Paul Sagan, who tipped me off on this story.)

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An early proto type of the new "Sexy Sub."

Here in the secretive offices of The Crusty Curmudgeon, it is something like living in a spy thriller, so imagine our maniacal thrill when we learned the U.S. Navy was going to build submarines for hot chicks.  It’s just like a James Bond movie, and natch, the subs would belong to SPECTR.  But in this case they will belong to the Navy.  Whether or not they’re an arch villain depends on your point of view.  Not in my view.  I think the Navy is cool.  Especially now.

The Navy is now preparing a plan that will—for the first time ever—allow women to serve on submarines.  That’s right.  ABC News reported that an unnamed defense official (See?  An unnamed defense official) reported that Defense Secretary Robert Gates notified Congress of the plan.  So what is, exactly, the plan?  “Um,”  the Navy stuttered, “we’re going to set up separate living quarters for women.”  What?  Is that all?  That can’t be all.  What about the hot chicks?

I quickly dispatched my spies to find the true story.  What they found is exciting and frightening.  It’s a plan shocking in its boldness.  Horrible in its destructive capabilities.  I now publish here, for the first time ever, the Navy’s secret plan.  My reporting the plan may be against the law, but you know, freedom of the press, batten down the hatches, and so on and so forth.  I swear to you that this is true…it’s true that this is what my spies told me.

Here are the facts:  The navy is building subs for women.  They will be staffed only by hot chicks. The subs will be painted pink and phallic in appearance, and the interior will be opulent and luxurious.  Each sailorette will have private quarters, decorated in pink with fresh flowers everyday, grown right in the ships nuclear green house, and the beds will be elegantly adorned in silk sheets and down comforters with matching duvet covers, all purchased from the new supplier to the U.S Navy, The Comfy Bedroom, purveyors of fine bedding from famous designers like Pierre Cardin, Ralph Lauren, and Martha Stewart.

The uniform.

The uniforms of the sailorettes will be hot pink, extra short dresses with little sailor caps cocked coquettishly to the right.  Sailorettes caught cocking their caps to the left will be diciplined severely:  A bare-bottom spanking, but not too hard.  Room service is available.

Sailorettes may wish to take advantage of the sauna and the bubble bath hot tubs in the spa, where clothing is not allowed.  The kitchens will be staffed by top female chefs who will prepare 5-Star dishes of all nationalities, including a special diet menu with a selection of salads.

As for weaponry, that is where the subs get truly devastating.  Torpedo’s will be shaped like lipstick tubes with the red lipstick part being the nuclear warhead.  The ships will come equipped with a new, top secret underwater announcement device, allowing the submarines to actually speak to enemy subs.  Soldierettes are now being trained to say such phrases as, “Not tonight, Honey, I have a headache,” and are being encouraged to make fun of the size of the enemies wieners while laughing cruelly.  This will have a devastating effect on the hostile forces.

Calls to the Pentagon for a comment were quickly re-routed to the CIA, on whom this reporter quickly hung up.  I am currently lobbying to be the only reporter from a major news organization allowed to accompany the first Sexy Sub on its maidenhead voyage.

I promise to behave myself.

Adapted from naval-technologies.com by Reilly Creative.

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Cat Fight, Siberian Tigers

Here in the titillated but not aroused offices of The Curmudgeon, we enjoy seeing two women together in “that” way but not in a cat fight.  I don’t know why this appeals to so many men.  The cat fights, I mean, but I don’t know why the other thing turns men on either.  I read once that men’s desire to see to attractive females in “compromising positions” together is so universal, that it exists even in the primitive tribes of faraway lands.  So prevalent in fact, that it could be considered a harbinger of whether or not a man is straight or gay.  In other words, if you don’t like seeing two sexy gals get it on, you ain’t straight.  I’m just sayin’.

Paris Hilton

Paris Hilton

So it is with some amusement that I report the following “cat fight” story involving Paris Hilton, who wouldn’t turn me on under any circumstances, even if I was from a primitive tribe in a faraway land.  I read the story first at contactmusic.com, but it may have been initially reported by the AP, or Pop Eater, or Time, or the New England Journal of Medicine as far as I know, since the story is everywhere, because let’s face it, this is news.  Never mind that Iran just announced they are weaponizing their plutonium – this is news, damn it! Hold the press-on nails!

So the story – which I haven’t really followed, I swear – is that Paris went around with her ass in the air telling anyone who would listen that Doug Reinhardt was her “future husband,.”  This Reinhardt guy was at the Darkroom Bar with his brother and Kendahl Beal was there with her friend.  They sort of knew each other, so the group of them were catching up and watching the Laker’s Game.  They weren’t even really flirting (and so what if they were?).  It was just nice, quiet afternoon in a bar doing shots and watching basketball.  But it was not to be.

Kendhal Beal

Kendhal Beal

Paris has spies.  They called her and told her whatever it is these dumb asses tell one another, probably something about her man out with this b**** in public.  Oh, the nerve.  Nobody does that to Paris Hilton. According to the New York Post’s PageSix, she stormed into Los Angeles’ Darkroom bar on Tuesday night (Jun09) and attacked the beauty queen with – are you sitting down? – snacks.  Hey, I never said it was pretty.  Yep, snacks.  Oh, the humanity!  She was picking up ice and fruit and flinging it.  Police officially have called the event a “snack attack.”  No word on the survival of the peanuts and goldfish crackers.

Paris dumped him publicly through her publicist shortly after.  Now that’s class.  I want a publicist to do all my dirty work too.  I wonder if hers wipes her as well.  I know a couple of girls I’m kinda sweet on.  I’m gonna have my publicist call their publicist and see if they want to get together for some…uh….snacks.

Whoa, whoa, Paris!  Are you gonna eat that banana?

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Photo by mikebaird / flickr

Photo by mikebaird / flickr

Here in the oceanic eco-friendly but not all wet Curmudgeon offices – currently located in the Pacific Northwest with offices over-looking Puget Sound – we have seen our share of spectacular whale tails.  Both the beautiful Orca tail, rising above the water with a playful but dangerous slap back onto the water, but also the illusive land whale tail, that which belongs to human women.  Their tails involve a playful but dangerous slap too, but that’s another fish-out-of-water story.



For those of you who don’t know, we speak not of whale-sized women and their behinds, but rather when the back of a (hopefully) hawt young girl’s g-string or thong appears above the level of her low-rise jeans, much like the whale’s tail appearing above the water’s surface.  This look is said to have  been popularized by Christine Aguilera and Brittany Spears.  In fact, I could have easily included pictures of these two pop tarts, but there are, as they say, lots of whale tails in the sea.

Off the starboard bow!

Off the starboard bow!

I don’t know who first coined the term “whale tail,” but I wish it were me.  It’s clever and funny and, gosh darn it, that’s exactly what they look like.  I must confess that I like the look too.  The fashion.  The statement, which is something like, “wouldn’t you like to dive into this?”  Why…yes Ma’am.  Yes I would.  I kind of get the whole Prince Charles wants to be a tampon thing, too.  I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to find out.  I don’t know why we have certain bizarre fantasies.  I don’t mind looking for their deep-rooted, twisted reasons when it’s your crazy stuff we’re talking about, but when it’s mine…fugeddaboutit.

Moby Dick

Moby Dick

But back to whale tails.  We have this one young woman working here – Asfrid’s her name – who is like a Nordic goddess, all blond hair and creamy softness and steamier than an outdoor jacuzzi in a snow bank.  Asfrid has a whale tail almost every day and they make me want to be Jacques Cousteau.  In search of zee elusive whale tail. Give me a camera, boys…I’m going under. I think I’ll introduce the idea of casual Friday, only we’ll have whale tale Friday.  Or maybe not.  Some guy will complain and want to do plumber’s crack Friday, and that is the opposite of a whale tail.  Unless the girls want to do plumber’s crack Friday…okay, wait.  I’m getting confused.  So many options, so many tails.

No.  I guess I won’t mess with nature.  I reckon I’ll leave it to chance whether the whale tail appears or not, just like the Orca’s glorius, feisty tail.  Didn’t I say we were oceanic eco-friendly here at the Curmudgeon?

Save the Whale…Tail.

A double sighting

A double sighting

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Here in the expansive but not dilatent offices of The Curmudgeon, we have been most occupied with the notion of  “muffin tops.”  These are not the muffin tops that you eat (usually) or that they make Seinfield episodes about, but rather the human muffin tops displayed when someone wears a too-tight piece of clothing around their hips causing fatty tissue to “spill” over the top, like a muffin.  Use it in a sentence thusly:  “Wow!  Check out the muffin top on that chick!
Certainly men can have a muffin top too, but you and me, society and culture as a whole are only concerned with women.  We admire them.  We loathe them.  We study them.  We praise and criticize them.  We paste their pictures in the trashy gossip mags and scrutinize them, and that’s what you do, sister.   Men take all the flack, but women are the drive behind this physical examination of females.  I have said in the past that by studying women you will learn about men, and more about our culture than you ever considered.  So…let’s consider the muffin top.

The Heavy Bran Muffin or the Delicate Blueberry?

Obviously, heavier women are more easily “muffin topped,”  (Can I verb that?)  but any female can get one.  Unless, of course, you are one of these ultra-thin runway models who are more androgynous than womanly, if you ask me,.  How the fashion industry gets away with pushing this waif, half-starved, “scuse me mister, got a farthing so a girl can buy a bit of bread”  image on us is beyond my comprehension.  muffingood6

Notice too that I have avoided saying whether the muffin top is good or bad.  It is almost universally described as bad, as in “dreaded muffin top.”  I, however, think the muffin top could go either way.  Some women clearly should put some clothes on.  But others…well, lets just say I am like the trained dog on a walk with his master, never leaving my “heeled” position, who suddenly sees a female dog with the sun shining in her fur, who cannot move, but simply cocks his head as if to say, “Huh?”  Obviously, there are different degrees, and I have labored to show examples that are not too extreme.

Where the Muffin Top Came From

The term “muffin top” was coined by Kath and Kim, the Australian comediennes.  The condition of “muffin toppedness” began during the late 60’s to early 70’s with the introduction of low-rise and hip hugger pants.  They defied the true female form, which forced the skin and fat around her waist, back, and buttocks to spill out over the top.  Women are supposed to have a little extra there.  Add a crop top and you get the full effect.
Mercifully or not, depending on your outlook, the low-rise/hip huggers went the way of beehive hairdo, but as the wise old saying goes:  remember – history – condemned – repeat.   So low-rise pants came back, this time escorted by mid-riff tops.   It was during the mid to late 90’s, but there was actually a theory behind it this time.  The idea was to make the woman’s torso appear longer, and thereby thinner, than it actually was.  And it all came from trying to adapt men’s pants to women.

Whoops, The Muffin Top is Born

Men’s pants normally have lower waists and men have naturally longer torsos, narrower hips, and smaller pelvis’.  “Hey,” exclaimed the fashion industry, “let’s adapt men’s pants to women and then they’ll appear to have longer torsos too!”  And so muffin tops were born.  Fashion industry goes wrong…again.   The odd thing is, muffin tops are still prevalent today.  What I wonder is why women are still sporting the look, regardless of it’s social stigmatism?  Will they buy and wear anything as long as it’s popular or the fashion industry tells them to?  If this is true, why won’t they dress the way I tell them to?  “Here honey, put on the French Maid outfit.”  (Actually, that works for me every time, so if your gal won’t do that for you then you have a problem.)muffinundecided-1

Men, I think it is fair to say, will have varied opinions on the muffin top.  Some guys love it always, I’m sure, and they can probably be classified as “chubby chasers” or “fat freaks.”  Other men will always find the look awful, and can probably be described as…let me see…homosexual.   The majority of men will share my opinion however, with our individual proclivities filtering the good from the bad.  After all, you could probably squeeze Beyonce’,  Charlize Theron and Kate Winslet into a muffin top, and that’s just good, wholesome, tasty goodness.

Three muffins are better than one.  malingerer - flickr

Three muffins are better than one. malingerer - flickr

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