It's amazing what a long day of running errands, doing lunch and trying to find a Starbucks with an empty seat can make you forget. So it wasn't until late this afternoon, when I engaged in a battle of wits over BlackBerry Messenger (BBM) with one of my favorite people that I remembered one of the more interesting things I saw today while watching my one of my favorite morning shows, The Doctor's, on the elliptical machine at the gym (can I be anymore suburban housewife?)
The BBM conversation with this:
K: UnPlain I need the Rosetta Stone to decipher the language you and my fiancee use when you talk to each other.
UnPlain: Get with it K. You're Double Oh C (OOC = Out of Control)
K: Whatevs UnPlain - did I get that right? Your husband, T and I are going to come up with our own code involving burps, grunts, nosepicks and farts.
And as so many of my thoughts, conversations and diatribes begin, I responded, "Speaking of farts..."
And so, speaking of farts, while watching The Doctors, which is incidentally one of the worst, most repetitive insults of intelligence to even the most simple of simpletons TV, the subject of flatulence was raised. Immediately my ears perked up at one of my favorite topics and I slowed my roll on the elliptical and paid attention. What followed next was a tight shot of Dr. Jim holding up a pair of fire engine red man panties and applying a 3" by 3" black square to the "business area" of the "manties" (man panties). As such, Subtle Butt, when applied correctly will prevent the odor end of your best post fiber-heavy meal work from escaping past the confines of your pants.
The Doctor's then went on to explain the chemical reactions that occur and the science behind how Subtle Butt works, but I was too transfixed with the thought that I may never have to see that I-can't-believe-I-share-a-bed-with-you look from my husband or be forced to sheepishly leave the grocery store before checking out again. Just as I was wishing I had invented this genius product, it hit me that I, like most of the women I know, prefer to wear butt-floss under my skin-tight jeans and tiny patches of fabric that I pass off for dresses. And unless you're a hippopotamus or home-bound due to a genetic weight problem, odds are your thong doesn't measure 3 inches across. And if either of these are the case a little flatulence is probably the least of your issues.
But if you favor grannies or you're a man then odds are you can sleep tight with the knowledge that thanks to Subtle Butt your SBDs can now remain between you and your pants.