Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

09 January 2013

The First Great Underwear Battle of 2013

It happened again.

I woke up at 3 a.m. and suddenly felt like I was being strangled by my underwear.

And by "strangled" I don't mean "something wrapped around my neck choking the life out of me."  What I actually mean is "something climbing up my ass and choking the life out of my girly bits."

It's a strange phenomenon, why this happens.  I can spend an entire day in my underwear (which I do...  there is no commando going on in my pants, fyi) and I'm fine.  No wedgies,  no creepers, no picking my seat when I stand up.  All is good with my girl parts, everything's fine, everything's exactly where it's supposed to be.  

(Sorry... there will be no gratuitous vajay shot here to illustrate my point.)

(Did you know that in England the word "fanny" means "vaj"?  I found that out in the most random way this summer.  My sister-in-law, Taryn, a full-blown Brit, was visiting.  At some point during the visit I told someone to get their fanny into the house, or some such thing.  And THAT is when I was informed that "fanny" is another word for the frontal region, not the backal region, in the good old U.K.  So now I can't say "fanny" without feeling just a little bit dirty.  Thanks, Taryn.  And no, that didn't have anything to do, really, with this blog.  It just popped into my head when I wrote "vajay."  I can never overlook a good opportunity to educate.   And now?  You are all just a little bit smarter.  Unless you're from the U.K. and already knew that.  You're welcome.)

(I'm also pretty sure I just killed spell-check.  Without any warning, all my squiggly red lines disappeared.  Huh.)

And now, back to my Epic Underwear War.

So as I said, I can spend an entire day without even thinking about my underpants.  They're down there, doing their job (which is maintaining a layer of protection between my pants and my hoo-hah) and I'm up here, doing what *I* do (which is very, very important stuff, y'all).  We're each minding our own business, keeping things going in our prospective areas.  

And then?

I go to bed.  All is well inside my jammie bottoms.  

Eventually, I drift off to sleep.

Usually, I stay asleep (except for the 15 times a night I get up to pee, which doesn't really count).

But every once in a while, I will wake up with the uncomfortable feeling that something is wrong.

Last night was one of those nights.

I had (mysteriously... seriously, this never happens) fallen asleep fairly quickly after I went to bed.  Maisy was under the covers pressed against me, snoring, the room was the perfect temperature, Dan was breathing deeply but not necessarily rattling the walls with his sonorous nighttime chorus... All systems were GO for an easy night's sleep.

And then?

I woke up.

I laid there for a moment, wondering why I felt vaguely uneasy.  

And then... I knew.

Well, shit.

I readjusted and tried to go back to sleep.

It didn't work.

I got out of bed, rearranged my underclothing, got back into bed, and tried to go back to sleep.


I tried to ignore it.


Because this?  Is hard to ignore.

I flopped over onto my other side.

I kicked my feet frantically until I was out of breath.

Dan, rolling over and coming out of his stupor long enough to be annoyed:  "What's wrong??  What are you doing?"



(Apparently my imminent Death By Underwear is of no concern to him.  Bastard.)

I slid my hips up to see if that would dislodge the wedgie.

It didn't.

I did a little bump and grind while lying on my side.

Nope nope.

I yanked. 

I pulled.

I stretched.

I did a combination yankpullstretch with a little kick-bumpandgrindhipslide...

Me, screaming at my underwear:  "GET OUT OF MY ASS!!"

My underwear:  "Make me!"

(Seriously, you guys... that totally happened.)

I feel your pain, Dubya.  *fist bump*

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, "Why the hell didn't you just take them off??"

I know, right?

I'll tell you why...

Because it was 3 in the freaking morning and I didn't think of it.

Until 4.  I thought of it at 4 in the freaking morning.

I rolled out of bed, dropped trou, and climbed back into bed.

Sadly, by that time I was wide awake and pissed off.

But the wedgie?

I killed that motherfucker.



  1. Oh man. That last picture is ALMOST as magical as a picture of a young girl resting casually upon a telescope. Almost.

    I can't sleep without underwear. It feels . . . wrong. My SIL doesn't wear them. At all. Ever. I just can't understand that.

    But hooray for being the great wedgie slayer!! Them bitches had it coming.

    1. There is nothing more magical (or natural) as a young girl resting casually on a telescope. Nothing.

      I can't sleep without drawwwws either. Hate it. And going without during the day under your clothes???


      Great minds, mama.

  2. I have this problem with some of my yoga pants. I could wear them all day without incident-- they're doing what they're supposed to be doing; covering the legs and moving with me... Yoga pants are designed for this, after all... And then I wake up in the middle of the night with my face stuck in one leg and the other leg of my yoga pants wrapped tightly around my upper thigh, trying to cut off blood circulation of that artery. I have no idea why, other than my pants may be trying to kill me.

    1. And here I thought yoga pants were made strictly for those days (weeks) when I'm too lazy for real pants.


      I had no idea they actually served a utilitarian purpose....

  3. WTF is happening in pic 4? That looks painful.

    1. Vesta... that is what is known in the world of boys, who find that stuff funny, as an "Atomic Wedgie"... when the underwear is actually pulled OVER the head.

      I hate that I actually know that...

  4. The picture where the kid has his underwear wedgied up over his head made me snort my miserable failure of a Starbucks latte. Thanks for that.

    I can't say that I've ever had a wedgie at bedtime. Then again, I usually wear fitted shorts which do a pretty good job of keeping everything in place. If I try to wear pajama pants, they get twisted around my legs when I turn over and I end up kicking my husband.

    1. I need to invent wedgie-free drawwwws. For real.

      The ones I have are supposeddd to be wedgie free (no-rise briefs) but they obviously fail, in that retard.

      I'ma sue Hanes.

      Misty? Get on it, wouldja?

    2. Filing suit right away. We're gonna be bajilliontyaires!! ;)

  5. I usually take my second shower of the day right before bed so I sleep commando. Mostly because I'm not about to do laundry 3 times a week just to keep up with a two-pair-a-day underpants habit. I'm lazy like that.

    1. I just can't sleep commando. I just can't. If I did, that would be the night the house caught fire and I had to shimmy down the drain pipe flashing my bizzness to the entire town, plus the entire emergency response crew, and I'd be like that poor, poor person who wound up on the opening of ABC news every.single.night for YEARS because during some hurricane or other he wound up buck-ass nekkid straddling a tree, and night after night after night had to re-live his rescue, ass bare and blowing in the breeze, for all the world to see.

    2. I'd be all, "GET MY ASS OFF YOUR OPENING CREDITS, MOTHERFUCKERS!" But apparently, he didn't have the energy to do so.

  6. And THIS is why I own about a million pairs of underwear. That, and every time I take a trip, I forget and have to buy new ones. I let the laundry build up for a couple of weeks and Boyfriend said, "How many pairs of underwear do you OWN?"

    One for day, one for after working out, one for night. WHAT?

    1. I'm a big fan of underwear changes, too. If I change my clothes, I change my draws.

      When I do laundry, I have 5 pairs of hubby's underpants, 15 pairs of mine...

  7. You wear jammies AND underwear to bed? Good lord, why don't you just wrap your fanny in duct tape? That thing has to breathe sometime.

  8. Once I didn't wear undies for a whole week. It was on a dare from my friend who swears by commando. It honestly wasn't bad. But I switched back but the end of the week. I just don't own enough pants to live that kind of lifestyle... And I hate laundry.



  9. Yeah the first time a friend's mother told me to get my fanny somewhere I almost had a meltdown (I was raised by foreigners; I never knew "fanny" meant your arse).

    HOW can you wear knickers to bed?? Nighttime is commando time. Your ladybits need some time to breathe.

    ...if you're anything like me though, only do this in pajama pants, never nighties. For some reason whenever I try to sleep in a big tshirt or a nightie, I wake up in the morning with the entire thing up round my ears. Probably I toss and turn too much, though I have not ruled out an incubus.


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