Anyway, this is about Coke at Costco, not a show that “celebrates the beauty and sensuality of women”.  (That post comes later).

Coke is back at Costco, which is old news (always behind the times, I’d written about this little spat here and here).  The Coke products are more expensive than equivalent Pepsi products, but not by much.  So who won the battle?  Who knows, who cares.  It was a stupid fight to begin with (though I had to side with Coke). What I found noteworthy is the presence of Mexican Coca-Cola.

"Coke de Mexico" - it's like I'm back in California!

See?

Viva la raza, baby - it's the real thing!

I struck me as odd to find mexican Coke (not to be confused with mexican coke) in Costo.  Sure, there’s a decent sized hispanic population around here (Baltimore suburbs) but this is Maryland.  I’d be less surprised if I found Coke for sale in mason jars.

The magical Internet came to my rescue.  Apparently this is the Coke to drink because it’s sweetened with sugar and not high fructose corn syrup.  Double bonus – it comes in glass bottles.  You know it’s good if the New York Times wrote about it.

I was excited that Pepsi came out with their “throwback” formulation, also with real sugar…and I don’t like Pepsi (I gave it up after ODing on it in high school…same reason I don’t drink Budweiser, well, that and I’ve developed taste). 

Real sugary Coke in glass…well, smack my ass and call me Sally.  I’m buying me some of this love in a bottle.

I’ll have to keep it at work so my wife doesn’t find out…I’ve put on a couple (ahem) pounds over the last few months and she’s nagging me about it.  She’d probably be happier if I started using coke instead…until she saw my credit card statement. 

Wait, do drug dealers even take credit cards?

Crap, I haven’t had cash since my kids started buying school lunches.  I guess mexican Coca-Cola it is then.

I know that dealer takes credit cards…

They sell women’s thong underwear.

I love football, don’t get me wrong, but really?  Are women actually wearing these?  I don’t know that I’d want my wife wearing one…the last thing I want on my mind as I’m diving for the end zone is Ben Roethilsberger. 

Back off, guys. The Cleveland Browns logo is the universal symbol for "not scoring".

 Having trouble getting your man’s attention on Sunday?  Maybe a different logo would bring a change of luck.

"A horseshoe, right side up? I'd better take a shower tonight!"

Yes, nothing says “come hither” like NFL embroidery.  Still, Reebok did try to fem things up a bit in the product description,  “A satin ribbon adds a soft, feminine touch.”

"For the last time, I don't care what you smell, Dolphins are not fish!"

Satin ribbon, brought to you by the same folks who came up with “flowers between the bra cups”.

Flowers...when wearing a bra just isn't feminine enough.

On the other hand, it sure does dress up this Oaktown thong.  Raider Nation, be proud.

"Put on your glasses, dear, I did not forget to shave!"

There does seem to be a limit to tackiness (well, except with me).  Even NASCAR doesn’t sell women’s underwear (count your blessings, Internet).  A search for “thong” at MLB’s shop shows they have a different take than the NFL.

Let's see you fit your legs through those holes.

The NHL shop carries a limited line of women’s thongs as evidenced by this beauty:

I always thought the name "Red Wings" was better suited for a feminine hygiene product, but then I'm a Penguins fan.

If you want to sell lingerie, don’t listen to the sports marketing brainiacs.  They may be able to turn pedestrian items into icons of loyalty but what could they possibly know about selling fine washables?

This would be much cooler (albeit heavier) with 10 yards of chain inside.

No, if you want to sell lingerie, Knicker Picker knows how to do it.

I think this just may be the reason the Internet was invented.  Really.  If the lingerie came with working remote control arrows (don’t be shy, go ahead and click them) I swear I would buy every item on their site.  Twice. 

And not because the arrows would let me live out my Stepfordian fantasies, not at all.  I’m fascinated by business and marketing and I think this is a brilliant way to sell lingerie.  Can’t you see the brilliance?  Maybe you’re not looking close enough. Click the “full-screen” button and fill your screen with brilliance.  Don Draper couldn’t have done it better himself.  Why not show how your product works?  Right?  That’s why amazon.com allows random mouth-breathers from the web to upload video product reviews.  Because it sells.  Throw some breasteses into the mix and…umm…

Hey look, more pictures!  In just 50 years look how far technology has taken us.

She won the Cy Young award that year since no one was able to get past first base with her. That bra is sturdy, plus she's wearing a lampshade!

I think the Arabic reads, "I dreamed I waged jihad"...she looks kind of pissed off though she's rockin' those Hammer pants.

The Stepford dreams of an earlier generation. Disturbing.

Screw the chopsticks, I'm using my hands.

You can tell they're for men because they lack both ribbons and flowers.

I've watched my wife do this (like every chance I get) so even I know you're supposed to assemble it with the hooks in the front *then* turn it around. Duh.

So the point of all this was…did I have a point?  Oh yeah, what’s up with NFL thongs?  Just be glad I didn’t make a Packers-cheesehead joke.  Merry Christmas.

Because I know you’ll go looking, you can find more Maidenform ads here.

The source of my son's curiosity. Mine too, for that matter.

The other night we were all hanging out watching West Side Story on TV(because when you’re a Jet,  you’re a Jet all the way…we’re cool like that).  Really not the most appropriate movie for a six-year old but you know how it is.  You’re so careful with the first child, playing classical music in the car, making your own baby food, and by the time the last one rolls around all the standards have gone out the window…you’re letting him stay up and watch Broadway gang musicals past his bedtime.

It’s the point in the movie right after the rumble in which a couple of guys were stabbed to death (sorry if this is a spoiler, but the movie’s been out for nearly 50 years…have you been that busy?  I won’t tell you who got knifed, just the same).  The scene features Maria (Natalie Wood) and Anita (Rita Moreno).  Cole, my young quarter-swallower, asks, “What happens if you get stabbed in the boob?”

Rare is the occasion I’ve got no response – this was one of those times.  Louise picked up pretty quickly what was on his mind.

“They don’t pop, if that’s what you’re thinking”, replies my wife dryly.

That was indeed what he was thinking.

“Oh”, he says, and pauses to adjust his world view to this new bit of information.  “What are they made of?”

Since we were on a subject near and dear to my heart I found my voice.  “They’re like two blobs of fat”.  (If I can ruin things for my daughter I owe the same to my son)  “Sort of like having a butt on your chest…except your butt’s made of muscle.”

And thus ended that discussion…whenever “butt” enters the conversation with my kids, civility takes a powder.

Boob.  It’s curious that he used that word.  We’re really good about using proper names for body parts…penis, vagina, ulnar nerve (“if I hear you call it ‘funny bone’ one more time mister, you’re grounded!”)  I guess “boobs” is our word of choice for “breasts”, not by any conscious decision though.

My kids should count their blessings.  Back in my day, when I was a wee (ahem) lad we referred to the penis as a “rinky”.

I know!  I’m just as surprised as you that it didn’t catch on.  “Dude, why the fuck did you put your cigarette out in my beer?  Sometimes you’re such a rinky!”

I’m sure the Richards of the world would rather have it that way.