I was thinking we could have a little chit-chat. Sound fun? Let's freshen our appletinis.
Listen, it's possible that we're distastefully focused on the crotchular regions of celebrities. Guilty as charged. Two weeks ago we had a little heart-to-heart with Adrian Grenier and his basket o' groin puppies about the perils of going commando in spandex and the many benefits of a proper athletic supporter. And while we're quite relieved you're not packing anything that appears deformed or tubular, we feel it's urgent to remind you that you're at a Make-a-Wish Charity Ball. Children are present. And unless it's one tot's dying wish to visit the Grand Canyon, your catwoman outfit is a wee bit inappropriate.
It's like this, Share. You're a fierce old broad. Together, we've weathered the string-bikini-and-cellulite calamity. You're righteous, and we suspect you're hilarious when you're plastered. But some details about you are best confined to a gal's gynecologist.
You look like (pick one):
- Miss Camel Toe, 1985.
- Your labia's training for the Tour de France.
- A wormhole has mysteriously appeared in your shame zone, into which light (and black spandex) are inextricably sucked.
- You and Adrian Grenier have formed a sex education mime troupe called "Show Me Yours, I'll Show You Mime"
- Your ladyhole is secretly planning a prison break.
- Diana Rigg in that lost episode of the Avengers, wherein Emma Peel buys an Andy Warhol wig and goes undercover as Carlsbad Cavern.
- Your skirt got caught in the limo door, and thinking quickly, you dipped your lower half in dark chocolate fondue.
- Bloody hell.
XOXOX
WAM
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