A man’s character is best defined by what side he’s on in the ass versus titties debate. Sorry, leg men, but you contrarian hipsters aren’t welcome here. It’s a battle between two heavyweights. This is Coke versus Pepsi, and leg men are RC Cola.
You might be thinking, “Are there really any losers when butts and boobs are on the line?” Of course there are. This is America. Leave that “Can’t we all get along?” crap to Chris Brown’s therapist. If spending hours watching Pardon The Interruption has taught me anything (it hasn’t), it’s that there’s ONE correct answer to every single question in life, and anyone who disagrees with you is an antipatriotic dick weasel who’s unable to pop a boner.
So which is it, boobs or butts? The answer’s simple, really. It’s asses. It’s always been asses. And it will always be asses. 2 + 2 = 4. The sun is hot. I’d chop my own dick off to be the shower head in Miley’s “Wrecking Ball” video and die of a fatal hybrid of Hepatitis C and asbestos poisoning shortly thereafter. Butts > Boobs. These are basic facts of life, people. Here’s the evidence:
Thongs > Bras
Enough of this guessing game Houdini bullshit, Victoria’s Secret. You know what Miracle Bras are? Fraud. You should all be thrown in jail. Miracle Bras are like gluing pubes to your face to trick everyone into thinking you can grow a better beard than Chaz Bono. Sick of this crap, man. We don’t let juicers into the Hall Of Fame for a reason. Think of the children. Performance Enhancement Breasts amount to cheating, and you girls are no better than A-Rod. Still have smaller tits than him, too (probably).
Thongs on the other hand? There’s nowhere to hide. Just some quality buttcheek on gravity action, letting nature do its work. Every guy remembers exactly where he was when he saw his first thong. It’s like your own personal JFK assassination moment. “Yeah man, I was in 8th Grade Geometry. Skies were clear that day. Suddenly, there was a great commotion. People who’ve never seen such things running around in a panic, relaying to one another that the thong was going back and to the left.” Your first run-in with the lace is a make-or-break, life-defining moment. Your first time bumbling your way through attempting to unhook a bra before she finally goes, “Oh, don’t worry, I guess I can get it,” is just deflating.
Plus, Sisqo’s “Thong Song” easily puts one in the win column for butts. No one’s singing, “Letttt meeee see some pad pad pad pad pad.”
Mom Butt > Saggy Twins
With all due respect to my guy StuffFratPeopleLike, he couldn’t pick out a quality butt from an ashtray. What kind of monster hates high-waisted mom shorts? People with a serious Oedipus Complex, that’s who. You really gonna talk about my granny’s badunkadunk, SFPL? You sick fuck.
I won’t go as far as saying a woman’s ass gets finer with age. Doesn’t have to, though. Not with how mom jeans make a tush look the same exact way for decades. If fossil fuels had half the sustainability of mom butt, we’d have been energy independent decades ago. There’s a ton of women in their 40s and 50s who are still turning heads in waistlines that pop out of their turtlenecks. Compare that to Pam Anderson, whom five years from now won’t be able to walk down the street without getting silicon stains all over her stilettos.
Yoga Pants > Tight Sweaters
Or, as they’re colloquially known, the reason you give a shit about volleyball. All I’m saying is for all this “vintage” crap, there’s a reason that modern cheerleader uniforms look the way they do.
Twerking > Milkshake In The Yard
Sticking to the basics just works so much better. It FEELS better. Ass-to-crotch, moving in tiny figure eight shapes, butchering any over-the-shoulder makeout attempts while still trying to sip from your mixed drink, and all the while every single white person is awkwardly counting in their heads, “1,2,3,4 – 1,2,3,4.” So passionate.
Bongos > Slap The Bags
You know damn well that if you had to choose between a swat on the ass or playing with the ol’ stress balls, you’d pick the former 11 out of 10 times. Face it, America has had a hot-for-punishment fetish since George Feeny’s mustache hit the airwaves.
Stacy Keibler > Kate Upton
FIGHT ME, INTERNET. One’s 33, a wrestler-turned-Dancing With The Stars contestant who just landed George “my old-aged hairline makes you feel like dogshit” Clooney. The other just became legal to drink and is already more washed up than the magazine industry that made her famous. What happened, Kate? The milk’s gone bad. Book it, people: The Upton Playboy spread’s coming by the end of 2014.