And halfway through the day there will be a wardrobe malfunction

Nothing ill to say about the New York City Marathon?

Or about the east side?

Or about shoppers in Herald Square?

Well, then, what about women who wear ruffled polka-dotted off-the-shoulder creations and look as though they've stepped right out of a pirate romance?

Arrrr. (I figure our modern-day pirate has no need to say "Matey," because that's totally been overdone.

How about setting Miss Pirate Ass-Muncher in a corporate setting, on the thirty-first floor, in a place where some people are implicitly expected to wear suits (well, expected to, but most times should be just grateful that people show up wearing any clothes at all, especially given our resident pirate slut)?

I have this black satin and lace bustier I wore once to a fetish party (well, it was a dance to celebrate homosexuality, but what happened was everyone dropped major acid and got drunk and acted like it was carnevale or beerfest in the Adironbacks) in college. It was relatively tame for the event, as there was always Sock Boy, and girls who sauntered around wearing pasties or simply going around topless, just with the application of paint on their nipples and aureolae.

But so the bustier. Maybe I will wear this to work. Maybe I will wear it to my next weekly meeting.