I don't know when it happened.
I don't know who decided it.
I don't know how it was communicated.
But apparently, the ladies elected to wear jeans without underpants and show ass cleavage to all strangers.
I was sitting with friends in a much-loved outdoor-drinking venue, talking about books and beer and heat, when a trio of girls who looked too young to drink and too stupid to speak sauntered to the table next to us.
And then I got mooned.
"She didn't mean it. She must have just forgotten," I told myself, "because sometimes you're in a hurry and you forget to wear underpants."
But there it was, every time I looked up from my T.S. Eliot or away from the conversation about Stuart England. (The asscrack made freakier by our nerdfest.) The low-riding jeans an inch too loose, giving a full and unambiguous and public view of the tan asscrack, which could have been much less shapely, which bizarrely showed no tanlines, which was at once embarrassing and exciting and stupid as hell.
"I'm out of touch," I told myself, still confused, but also thrilled.
Another friend showed up, and it was time to reckon with the situation. I pointed out the asscrack. I wasn't the only one who noticed.
As if on cue, the table in front of us became occupied. It was a man and a woman, normal looking, attractive, with no signal of exhibitionism or immodestly.
The woman was in jeans.
She wasn't wearing underwear.
And the table got an eyeful of asscrack.
I could barely believe it, because at heart I'm a nineteenth century guy, and I know there are all kinds of things that confuse and surprise me, starting with electoral politics but including reading choices and Entourage and The Killers and popular music as a whole and approximately 200 other things.
Still, in the space of 30 minutes, it was two blazing, undisguised, unambigous flashes of underwear-free ass. Too much to be an isolated incident, not yet enough to be a trend.
My tabled discussed this openly. The first girl apparently overheard us. She was trying to pull her T-shirt down to cover the asscrack, but the jeans were just too low and the T-shirt too short, making modesty impossible. After a couple of half-hearted efforts she gave up and the bar returned to its harvest moon.
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14 comments:
while it's nice to see c-notes get all excited, even in a perturbed manner, over the ladies and their backsides, i still have to share some news that may dampen his enthusiasm:
the ladies were in all likelihood wearing undies. panties. bum covers, if you will.
it's an easy thing to misunderstand.
with the continued downward progression of waistbands, makers of ladies' underwear have gotten savvy and followed suit. it's called low-rise. i have on a pair at this very moment.
the underwear, as the name printed on the waistband suggests, sits lower on the waist. and, yes, much like the pants that inspired its creation, it shows off some ass crack when properly worn.
why bother wearing such items when it so obviously fails to cover the flesh? well, jeans -- or denim trousers to crimenotes -- are scratchy. it's not like sitting on a cloud of charmin all day. as a femaile acquaintance who happened to be a staunch opponent of the ladies undergarments once informed me, it's fine to go commando, but not in jeans. that's just not humane.
thus, low-riding pants worn with low-rise undies = exposed bums, harvest moons, and interruptions of mid-afternoon drinking and high-brow book discussions, but fully-dressed ladies nonetheless. sorry, c.
Evil -- this was the subject of discussion. The question: were there thongs, and did they just dip very, very low? Even with my unworldy Victorian sensibilities, I've become used to seeing thongs. But there were no thongs visible, and what we were seeing were very full moons, not slivers. I'm not talking about subtle peeks, but significant and unavoidable ass cleavage. The consensus seemed to be that there was a lot of commando, and not thongs.
The only female in my group pointed out the possibility of some weird magic thongs that wouldn't be visible. And, needless to say, I don't know jack shit about underpants, short pants, low-riding jeans, pants in general, or pretty much anything made out of cloth, including but not limited to drapes, curtains, shirts, neckties, socks, cuffs, collars and linings. I was drunk when I saw the asses and I was drunk when I wrote the post; I haven't researched the issue and maybe I'm in the grip of Full Moon Fever. I'm happy to concede your point. But at some point it raises another question -- the utility of underwear that is more than halfway down your ass.
The utility is in the front, not the back. Word.
Doesn't that hurt, though?
We've learned a lot this morning. I'm sure that my next post will be super-serious.
yeah i dont know what is worse...people that moon you with a bare ass...or, girls who wear their thongs too high and their pants too low. that is disgusting in my book!
Diane, I could not agree more. There is nothing that curdles the blood more than the sight of errant gontchies (yes, I'm a Canookie). I must, however, agree with the premise that the sight of ass crack is no less distressing. This is particularly true if said ass crack is worn with "love handles", oozing menacingly out of the unduly low waistband of the garment in question.
I would also like to state, unequivocally, that there is nothing at all wrong with going commando in jeans...even lowrise ones. I do it. Yes, I do. I do not, however, bear forth my crackage and here is why. I stay alert. I settle myself into a chair and then, I conduct a quick reconnaissance mission, ensuring that the crack of my ass is, indeed, modestly invisible. It is also imperative that, prior to leaving the house in my lowrise jeans (worn commando) and navel-grazing t-shirt (not spandex, as that won't do...oh no, not at all), I take a good look at the rear view to ensure: a) maximum crack coverage and b) maximum exposure of ass dimples on either side of my lower vertebrae. This is how it is DONE, ladies. Crack, BAD. Dimples, GOOOOOD.
The ass crack or thong peep thing is very old news. Once upon a millenium, it used to be slightly titilating, but now I find it pretty nasty. Maybe I'm getting too old.
To flip things around...does anyone find "plumber's crack" (what you see when your plumber is working under the sink and his Dickies slip down a bit) titilating? I have never heard a woman say "Did you see that guy's ass cleavage? So hot."
It's about time somebody made fun of Entourage and The Killers on the Blogosphere. Finally!
Your originality and complete lack of pretension (SEE: "I looked up from my T.S. Eliot or away from the conversation about Stuart England") really buttress your argument about girls and their gross, ewwwy butts. It's, like, so eww right?
PS: I once performed "Cocktail Party" entirely in blackface.
Out here in southern california, the same alarming trend has swept through the male beachgoing community. you can't take 2 steps without coming across a dude whose boardshorts are riding so low, that crack abounds.
What's weirder is sometimes these shorts are actually tight at the waist band - as if the lad in question has actually jammed his shorts down hard as far as he can.
I think it looks lame. Like unicorns in leather jackets. Or vice versa.
I saw something on the Discovery Channel once that pointed out how much butts can look like bosoms. Something about triggering desire subconsciously -- regardless if you're coming or going.
Gristled, you are my new favorite commenter for two reasons:
1. The stunning "Human Animal" series (based on Desmond Morris' work, I think) on the Discovery Channel stuck with you _ my friends look at me as if I'm crazy when I bring it up.
2. Umlaut!. If I could re-do my blog moniker, I'd totally pick something with an umlaut. Something like "Bartolo Köln" or "Bürgermeister McCheese" or maybe even just "Flöp."
As for the actual topic at hand, I would like to point out that I attempted to explain that low-rise underwear was, in fact, rather common, but my comments were lost amid crackling of tittilation that filled the air.
This was pretty much the most distasteful thing I've ever written. When I saw that it got linked by Gawker I figured that all of the comments would be like Richard's. Thanks to everybody for playing nice and having a sense of humor, as I obviously am new to low-riding jeans.
And to all the pretty ladies who like to show their butts to me and my friends: yo.
Kurt, I hear ya. I once dated a guy who flashed more crack than I did (which is never). It was over before it began.
Forget about low-rise thongs, what about the tragedy that is oversized boxers?
It's just an ass.
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