Dear Christy,My best friend is getting a matching tattoo with her boyfriend (something to do with their nine years together). They started dating in eighth grade and just graduated college together. Even though I love them both, I think it's a bad idea in case they break up. What do you think?
Have eighth-graders hit puberty? I guess. With all this hormone-soaked chicken we ingest, schoolgirls get their periods by age 9.
So if puberty has hit its prime at that age, there's one thing hasn't: the libido. It's just beginning to sprout, like that Chia Pet in the pants. And just as marijuana hinders teenagers' brain development, shackling oneself to a junior-high love stunts sexuality.
And now at 22(ish), even if they are still going strong, they still shouldn't get matching tattoos. (Unless it's Jake Jabs flying on Dealin' Doug's back.) Theirs will cement a junior high recess memory into a tacky permanent tramp stamp.
Alas, it sounds like they'll decide to ink like twinsies. (Although they should ink like ménage à trois-ies with me and get "Christy" on their ass in a heart.)
If they do, advise them to choose a similar concept with their own unique spin — like different versions of a pants-wearing octopus. This way, they'll have twin ideas to remember one another by, but if they split, they'll merely have an octopus with pants on and not initials carved into turtle doves French kissing.
Or you can just not care because it's art on a foreign body that you'll have reign to ridicule until the final laser-treatment appointment.
In other parts of the world, nudity is used freely in adverts, culture and every day life. Why do Americans treat it like such a scandalous thing?
—Lone London fan
Lone fan? Well spread the word in foggy London town, pal. Let's put the Fantz in the Brit's pants, dammit. (It smells like bad teeth in here...)
Ahem. Thanks for asking, term of endearment, but I'm no culture expert. I have a degree in journalism, not Dr. Ruth-ology. Maybe you should ask Pope Franny or Dr. Phil. But they'll probably swathe you in chastity vestments and Oprah's back hair (respectively).
I don't know, man. Maybe because we take the simple human form, stuff it in the exploit cannon and shoot it like wads of DNA all over the camera lens. Instead of using nudity tastefully, we rub it raw until it bleeds.
Keep your pecker up and flip on your telly. While you watch Model X seductively hug a bottle of scotch, nude, in a 30-second advert,* we'll watch Model Y mouth-hug Porn Star Z's genitals for three to five minutes.
*Keep your slang on that side of the Atlantic, you limey wanker. Hug!
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