Car Talk

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My dedicated readers know that I have an ongoing struggle with my bras. So do my erratic readers, because I talk about it so often that even a casual perusal will reveal my bra issues.

Even people who only visit my site once, ever, have a good chance of discovering my bra problems. This is because the people who only visit my site once, ever, usually get here by googling for “nipple” or “36F” or “busty librarian.” Poor dears. They set out innocently trying to find some pornography and instead they get a website that talks chiefly of books and writing and yoga. And bras, obviously, but not in a salacious way.

For the record, I think I am right now at a 34 DDD-verging-on-F, but I do not know this for a fact. What I do know is that my 36F bras are too loose in the band and slightly roomy in the cup. And I suspect that I am destined to never again have a bra that fits.

Given the choice between “Never finding true love” or “Never finding a bra that fits,” I might well opt for the life of loneliness and heartache. Loneliness and heartache could have certain advantages, like knowing that no one would ever wrest me from my cats, and being able to affect a permanent air of stoic sorrow. Very dignified, that, and dramatic to boot. Just look at whatshername in Wuthering Heights.

Not having a bra that fits has no advantages whatsoever, unless “saggy boobs” counts as an advantage.

But while I talk frequently, i.e. obsessively, about bras, I rarely mention my undies. This is because I do not have any problems with undies. Or at least I did not have a problem with my undies until today.

For context, we first need to talk about outfits. Weather forecasts and practicality play some role in how I select my ensembles, though the most import factor is the Attractiveness Continuum, with “Ravishing” on one end and “Medusa” on the other. Today I was squarely on the Medusa end of things. If you saw me today, your internal reactions probably included “frumpy” or “dowdy” or “Doesn’t get laid much, does she?”

I’m afraid I looked like a librarian rather than, say, a supermodel. Now in point of fact I am a librarian rather than a supermodel, but I would like to emphasize that this is a matter of choice. There is no reason whatever that I could not be gracing the covers of magazines and strutting down runways. I simply prefer to dedicate myself to a life of service, is all.

The reason I looked like a librarian was because I wanted flat shoes. Since I was going to be working in the bookstore in the evening, a job that requires a lot of standing, I wanted to avoid shoes with heels. The only clean garments that could be worn in harmony with flat shoes were a pair of khakis, which were too light for the weather, and a long purple skirt.

We may infer from this that I really ought to hit the laundromat soon. I need to be prepared for hot dates or photo shoots, though since I’m not a supermodel I suppose that photo shoots don’t pose much of a threat.

At any rate, today I picked the long purple skirt, which is okay by itself, but then I needed socks to go with the long purple skirt, and the sad fact is that socks will never land a girl on the sexy end of the continuum. Hose will do it, or sensual bare feet, or possibly even socks that are worn in a funky fashion over hose, but plain old socks? Not sexy.

I matched the long purple skirt, the socks, the ill-fitting bra, and the brown flats with a pink top that looks okay but loses its shape under a blue sweater, but the blue sweater wasn’t negotiable because temperatures threatened to be chilly.

And then I picked the undies. Since the rest of the outfit was a disappointment, and with no hot dates planned for the evening, I saw no reason to bother with underwear that was cute or sexy or interestingly patterned.

That’s why I chose the “Think Snow!” snowperson pair. These undies are white, with “Think Snow!” written along the top, and a picture of a snowperson. I hesitate to say “snowman” because the creature displays no genitals, nor any other identifying sexual characteristics.

Repeatedly, throughout the course of the day, I discovered one more feature of the “Think Snow!” snowperson undies. They have lost their elasticity.

I discovered this in the library. I discovered this in the bookstore. I discovered this in the grocery store.

I further discovered that underwear sans elastic, when worn beneath a skirt, makes for a dangerous clothing choice. I spent a good part of the day trying to tug inconspicuously at my gravity-bound underwear (“Don’t mind me, just got an itch on my thigh!”) and praying, fervently, that the undies would not fall to the floor.

Surely, you are thinking to yourself, surely Jessica’s day could not get any more exciting! And yet…

While I was struggling up the 23 steps to my apartment with a purse, a bag of groceries, a coffee mug, another pair of groceries, and a renegade pair of “Think Snow!” snowperson undies, I stopped at my mailbox.

And there was my magazine of logic problems!

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!!!

And there was a letter from Toyota!

Once safely inside, with the Medusa garments swapped for jammies and the groceries stowed, I opened the letter from Toyota.

Inside was a title.

It is with great pleasure that I announce that I am now, officially, the owner of my Toyota.

Except I think I should probably delete that sentence because I don’t want to tempt the gods. I am terrified that I am going to total the car, now that it’s just been paid off.

This is a legitimate fear. For one thing, the gods wouldn’t be pleased to see me gloating about my freedom from monthly car payments. For another, I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to find a decent replacement.

See, it has recently come to my attention that car manufacturers are weaning themselves of standard transmissions. Apparently people prefer to drive automatics. (“It’s because they’re lazy,” said my source, who is also a dedicated stick shift driver. We few, we happy few.)

Now personally I find this an insult to lazy persons everywhere. While sloth is not my favorite sin, it definitely ranks up there. I am a lazy person. If I were energetic and driven, I would do laundry more often, instead of being forced to wear clothes that make me look like a librarian.

I am lazy, but I far prefer standard transmission. I like the control. It’s also more fun than driving automatic, but when it comes down to it, I like to be able to tell the car when to rev and when to chill. And though it is disgustingly flat here in Wilhelmsplatz, God willing I shall someday again live in mountains, where frankly it is ridiculous to drive an automatic transmission.

But as I figure it, car manufacturers are in such dire straights that they need to kowtow to my demands. When my Toyota dies, which with any luck will be in about sixty years, I will once again be a car consumer, at which point the car manufacturers will need to woo me with every trick in the book. I shall demand a standard transmission, a cup holder that does not spill cheesy beer soup, and some fuzzy dice, because I’ve never had fuzzy dice and, honestly, I think I deserve them. The car manufacturers will be desperate for my money, so they will listen to me. And just to be on the safe side I will wear an outfit on the sexy end of the Attractiveness Continuum. They will be helpless to resist.

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18 responses »

  1. The slightly older other Jessica

    I had a wonderful bra shopping experience at Macy’s this weekend where they carry the Lunaire bras – sizes C to DDD only. I have three new (and really cute) 34DDD bras that actually fit! And they didn’t cost me a huge amount of money, they were only $38 each, which is the least expensive bra I have bought for years – and it fits!

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  2. Good lord, isn’t it enough that we have the same name and age and profession? Do we have to have the same bra size, too?

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  3. Ahem, us automatic transmission drivers are not lazy. I drove stick for many years and when it came time for a new car I didn’t think twice. Automatic it was. It makes it easier to talk on the cell phone and drink coffee and adjust my iPod while driving.Regarding your other problems. You realize, with this new chapter in your clothing issues, that I now have to direct my gaze somewhere over the top of your head when I talk to you. I can’t let my gaze drift below the chin for fear that you will think I’m judging 34DDD vs 34F and looking at your feet might be misconstrued as checking for dainties that have succumbed to gravity.

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  4. Driving stick discourages me from using my cell phone or drinking coffee while driving, which makes me less likely to total my car, which means I won’t have to buy an automatic. See?People could, in theory, look at my eyes when they want to talk to me, but directing the gaze to the space above my head seems an improvement over addressing my nipples.

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  5. IANALY (acronym)

    I feel your pain in regards to manual transmission availability.We’ve stopped teaching people how to drive a stick; therefore people don’t want them. They view stick as a burden, a chore, and not any fun. For Bob the plumber and Jane his wife, they’re right. A car is merely an appliance, a toaster that creates a movement from point A to point B.Thankfully, most sporty cars will continue to be manual transmission because of this. Miatas, Minis, etc are affordable and stick. Camrys, not so much.Re: Underwear. Of course, if I wear underwear there is the concern with it interfering with the suspension of certain boy bits, which you do not have. Underwear to you is merely a piece of material. Structure, fit, function, and roominess are not terribly important as long as it stays on your ass. Something this useless is pointless, unless you’re wearing tight clothing in the heat and need the sweat absorption. Otherwise, go commando – you’ll learn to love it.-M (commando since 1984)

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  6. I do however have girl bits, which leak. Continuously. That is what girl bits do. Best to have a barrier there, yes?

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  7. IANALY (acronym)

    Does a thin piece of cotton actually do anything for that though?

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  8. Yes.

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  9. I don’t know what it says about me, but this is the most fascinating girl bits/boy bits conversation I’ve been privy (no pun intended, well, maybe a little bit) to all week.As someone who gave up trying to find bras that fit because, like the automatic/manual transmission problem, few bras are available without underwire nowadays, I feel your pain. I am also too cheap to go shopping for bras, so I’m going to keep wearing my old one and yanking up the straps when necessary, i.e., every two minutes. It’s my new workout routine.Congrats on the Toyota. Have you seen the British TV show Top Gear, when they try to destroy a Toyota? It’s hi-larious:

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  10. By the way, I-Am-Not-a-Lawyer-Yet, I cracked your anagram the instant I saw it. You’re going to have to try harder.

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  11. Citizen Reader — I’ll watch the video of the Toyota later. It gives me something to look forward to. As for this being the most fascinating conversation re: Boy Bits v. Girl Bits: Smackdown, I think perhaps you need to get out more. We’ve discussed nothing racy here today. The only things we’ve discovered are that boy bits dangle and that girl bits drip. Common knowledge, if you ask me.

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  12. Of course you did. It was intended to be obscure. Interesting thing on the dangly front – apparently my support-free lifestyle has possibly helped me avoid losing one of the said bits to a tumor, although I am looking forward to a nice scrotal surgery later this year. Citizen Reader: ask t3h lesbrarian about the shelf-design sports bra idea I had. She seemed dubious, and not interested in assisting with experiments. I still maintain that with modern material science we can overcome frontal gravity!Forgot to add – it’s mostly American brands, and foreign cars built in America, that are going to the auto-only. European cars are almost universally available with manual transmissions (MB excluded) as are true imports. To compare to the Corolla, small Honda, Mazda, Nissans, Hyundais, and Kias are still available with a stick, as are VWs (and BMWs and Audis and Fiats, etc etc).

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  13. It suddenly occurs to me, IANALY– I’ve actually seen your dangly bits! Remember that skinny dipping episode? Was dark, though, so maybe it doesn’t count. When my Corolla dies, if it turns out that the only way I can get another stick shift is to move to Europe or Asia– well, it will be a sacrifice, but I’ll do what I have to do.

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  14. I mean the cars that they ship here. You can buy a Jetta, Rabbit, Mazda3, Mazda6, Civic, Fit, etc. all with a stick.I believe there was at some time a mutual exchange of dangly/nondangly bit views enhanced with glowsticks and cranberry zima (the horror). The beach is the very reason I don’t wear underpants – I learned not to when going surfing before school, with no time to shower inbetween. Sand + salt water + underwear = icky all day. No nuthuggers (or even boxers) = better drying and enhanced comfort.Plus, from a humorous standpoint, some guys cannot run without tighty-whiteys on since they have never developed the muscle there. Running naked is like a repeated kick in the junk. Now, since running naked away from an attacker/lover/the cops is always in potentia, I am prepared whilst they, sadly, are not.OTOH, current situation is pretty uncomfortable.

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  15. My understanding of Judaism, which admittedly is pretty weak, is that the traditional men say a prayer every day in which they thank God that they aren’t women. I believe I shall start offering a daily prayer of thanks that my reproductive organs don’t dangle. It’s so much tidier this way. Unfortunately, even with the compact design of my anatomy, I will be able to achieve, at best, a brisk trot away from attackers/lovers/police. Even while wearing a bra I find it too uncomfortable to run. Let us hope that no attackers/lovers/police read this admission and use it to their advantage.

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  16. You could always hold your bewbs while you run. :roll:Alternatively, the flashing of large breasts will stun most attackerish people momentarily, allowing you a head start.Or you could get the machine-guns-in-the-jibbleys implants like in Austin Powers. You’re not planning on using them anytime soon for YouJuice, are you?On another note, there will be no skinny dipping for me this year. Too cold now, and it looks like I’ll be interning at an ex-nuke weapons lab (lotsa environmental law with the cleanup process) where I can’t imagine I’d like to end up with a third eye or a not-so-healthy glow.

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  17. I still see a flaw in your plan. The flashing of breasts wouldn’t stun lovers, who would already be inured to the sight, nor police office, who are not easily shocked.I don’t think my health insurance covers machine gun implants.It’s been a very long time since I’ve been swimming, with suit or without. I am upset about this but I don’t know a good way to fix it.As for radiation: don’t be a coward. Did a world of good for Peter Parker.

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  18. babe, I hate to tell you this, but with your h00ters would stun anyone that isn’t gay, and many who were. Huge boobs are just awesome, in the original sense of the word.

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