As a guy interested in words, I was pleased to stumble across this website the other day. I will without shame admit that I have certainly used “That begs the question” wrongly in the past. I'm sure most people use it wrong if they have any occasion to use it at all, but having been set upon a new path of righteousness, I will endeavor to do better in the future.
I was probably even more pleased to stumble across the merchandise link, where one can, if one is so inclined, purchase a BTQ coffee mug or t-shirt, or even, gulp, intimate apparel. Oh yes, you can buy for yourself or your honey a Begs The Question thong!
I don't have any specific desire to get remarried (though to be clear I should state that I'm not opposed to the concept either), but I have to say that were I to get a woman's pants off— in my experience one achieves this utilizing the “pants-off button”—and she had underwear bearing some rather obscure grammatical idiom on it I might have to immediately jet to Vegas with that filly and make an honest woman of her. Well, maybe “immediately” is a bit ambitious, given her current lack of pants, but it certainly would set me a-thinkin’. It’s not every day that you run across a woman who has such intellectual prowess that she feels compelled to ensheathe her personal regions thusly who (and this is the key) is also willing to show you her underwear. Clearly, she’s someone to be reckoned with.
The possible downside to all of this would be that, having succeeded in pants removal, you’re now engaged in a pantsless erudite discussion of some grammatical idiom. Personally, I think that discussion is better had while we fold laundry at some later date, but that’s just me. Now that I think about it, underwear that says, “Hey, let’s have an erudite discussion” may not entirely coincide with my short-term ambitions at all. Long-term, though, terrific.
Since we’re on the topic of laundry, let me tell you that I recently ran out of liquid fabric softener. As I live alone, I don’t create all that much laundry, so I don’t go through a bottle of fabric softener all that quickly. My last one must have made it a year or more. This means, then, that selecting a fabric softener is a big decision, because once bought, you’re stuck with it for a good long while. Plus, since it's been so long since you've bought some, all of the formulations, scents, and packages have changed, so even if you wanted to just buy what you bought last time, good luck finding it.
Because of the monumental nature of this decision, I decided to go against my usual inclination and give a little care to my selection. Ordinarily, I’d just grab whatever, something mid-range in price, and be fine with that. I should really have stuck with that, because once I hit the laundry aisle at the store, I knew I was in trouble. Why do we need 47 different types of fabric softener? There are probably half a dozen or so brands, each with various formulations and scents, and a decision that should be of no consequence at all now becomes a research project. For a number of minutes I stood there huffing various bottles, getting odd looks from passersby, trying to determine whether I wanted lavender verbena or boysenberry poinsettia or some other wonderful fragrance combination. Having over-assaulted my proboscis, after a spell I just picked the one in the blue bottle (blue for a boy, I guess), and called it a day. It’s “fresh rain shower dew on home-cooked flapjacks” scent or something.
Having used it a couple of times I can report that it’s fine, even on your most delicate underthings. Feel free to drop by sometime. We can discuss grammar while the spin cycle runs.