If You've Got Time to Put on Your Lacey Red Thong...

You've got time to put on real pants and shoes!

No, I'm not talking about the lovely Ms. Alyssa Milano, pictured here with her red thong whale tail showing to illustrate the term and so I don't have obvious porn as the picture on my somewhat family friendly site.

I'm talking about the absolute ghetto child we (Sarah and I) saw yesterday morning as we went to the grocery store. I understand that Saturday mornings can be tough, especially if Friday night was a monster, but this was too much.

This lass caught our eyes because instead of wearing actual shoes, she had on slippers, and not even like hilarious old man sleepers that could conceivable pass as shoes. These where the stylish version that she obviously paid way too much for and wants to get as much use out of as possible.

Good for a chuckle and a headshake, but fair enough. We've all been the hungover mess that desperately needs a Booster Juice (as this treat was enjoying), but here's the kicker: superstar drops something, crouches down to pick it up and out pops a lacey red whale tail.

EPIC FAIL!

Two things: (1) they're either the same lacey red numbers you wore out to skank it up the night before and are therefore a biohazard at this point, or (2) you went to the trouble of putting on your little red numbers but couldn't do better than slippers, sweatpants slit up the back of the legs and a brown, fur-trimmed parka to finish the wardrobe?

I know I look far from ready for the runway when I'm riffling out to grab six or eight things at the store or stopping for coffee after dropping Sarah off in the early morning, but this was too much.

Somewhere, her mother thinks she's raised a charming, well-put-together young lady, when in reality, her offspring is out schlepping it through the strip mall, sucking back a Booster Juice looking ghetto fantastic with her lacey red whale tail.

So help me if I have daughters... this shit ain't happening in my house.

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She Wouldn't Be Alone Now

I remember when this really was an accurate representation.

Now, at least 50% of that graduating class would have more than their legs dangling for all to see and it's amazing -slash - ridiculous to me.

Let me clarify my use of the word amazing. I don't mean amazing in a "hell yeah, look at all these sluts! I love sluts!" kind of way. More of a "where in the fuck did all these sluts come from?" fashion.

When I was growing up, my elementary school had exactly one slut. Her name was Tamara. Back then, the definition of slut meant she let you touch her boobs and slide your hand inside her Levis if you were lucky. (Note: I didn't even try to be lucky back then...)

High school wasn't much different either and not just because I was sitting far, far away from the cool kids. There were ninja sluts - girls who only operated as sluts in the shadows, appearing "normal" on the outside - but the number of overt skanks was far less numerous than it is today.

You can't drive down the street without potentially running over at least four or five skanks every per block!

Seriously... where did they all come from?

Did some law get passed that made it illegal to not have your tits hanging out at every possible moment and the only pants females under the age of 25 are allowed to wear are either (1) black stretchy pants or (B) jeans that are just a little small so your underwear and/or ass hangs out for all to see every single time you bend down to get something?

Who's going to buy the cow when they get the milk for free 397 times a day?

And for all those people who are now going to bitch about my making sweeping generalizations and dressing a certain way doesn't mean anything, you like to look nice, blah blah blah blah blah, I say this:

If it looks like a slut, walks like a slut and is surrounded by several other slut-like creatures, chances are she's going to be sucking dick way earlier than her parents would like too...

While it certainly doesn't just stay in the land of the ladies - there are males sluts too; I was once one of them - there are a couple key distinctions that need to be made for all the "this is such a double standard" believers out there:

1) Yes, it's a double standard. Sluts versus Studs. Been that way for a while. Deal with it already.

2) D'you know what happens to guys walking around showing off more skin than is covered up? They get mercilessly ridiculed by every other man on the face of the Earth until they put on more clothes. Why do you think guys who wear Speedos tend to hang out with other guys who wear Speedos? They're the only idiots who think they look good...

3) Conversely, a girl walking around with more flesh than fabric is not only the target of catty comments from skanks and non-skanks alike, but she also draws the attention of Pervy Perverson, the 46-year-old guy who can't look her in the eyes when she's interacting with him at work. Or worse...

And don't even get me started on the Internet. Everyone with a webcam and a heartbeat has some skanked up picture(s) of themselves and the number of "adult dating services" or "chatrooms" combine to outnumber the remaining websites in existence.

Someone needs to do a study on this and figure out where all these sluts came from.

Or at least get them to cover up every once in a while.

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Dear God, Please Don't Let Me Have Daughters

Moving to a small town only reaffirmed for me that in no way will I be capable of dealing with a teenage daughter in the future.

I mean, sure, she could turn out perfect and I would do everything in my powers to teach her positive values and how to appreciate herself, but I'm pretty sure the parents of the skanky little 17-year-old Puck Bunnies I work with would tell you they've tried their best too.

For those who have never lived in a town centered around hockey, a Puck Bunny is a girl who lives to be with a hockey player, even if they are merely a 16-year-old kid playing Junior B. hockey in a ghost town like Kimberley.

To put this in perspective, I spent some of my formative years in Chatham, Ontario, a smallish city where hockey is everything. The Micmacs - now back to being the Maroons - were gods amongst mortals. D'you know how many of them amounted to much of anything on the ice? About three over the five years I lived in Chatham.

That's the same level of hockey the Kimberley Dynamiters play here in town and these little tramps I work with are all over them like they're the next Sidney Crosby.

While I've been forced to come to grips with the whole "16-year-olds showing up to work with their tits hanging out for all to see in stretchy pants" thing, hearing about the previous night's exploits makes me want to puke.

All I can think about is that one day, this could be my kid and I would go ballistic if she was out doing half the things these girls are doing on a weekend by weekend basis. I'm not saying you have to be a Puritan or anything like that, but have some self-respect.

It wasn't like this in my time.

When I was their age - you know, when they were 3 or 4 - there was one slut to every eight or ten regular girls and everyone wanted the regular girls.

Now, that ratio is flipped and the number of wannabe sluts vastly outnumbers the regular girls. What makes it worse is that it seems like with each passing year, the age for skankdom kicking in keeps getting lower and lower and lower and lower.

And do you know what the worst part of all of this is? The dirty old bastards that I work with who stand around soaking it all in, feeding into the systems, re-enforcing that dressing like sluts, going out and getting bombed every weekend and working your way through the third line of the local Junior B team is perfectly acceptable behaviour for a bunch of 17-year-old girls.

So I've taken to ridiculing the fuck out of the Puck Bunnies and throwing out High Fives to the normal ones...

It's okay to not be a skank!

This has been a public service announcement from ESKimo Enterprises.

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