NO PANTS SUBWAY RIDE: When You Don't Wear Pants, You Don't Need Tinder

To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength

You know, it takes alot of confidence to strut around with ya junk and ya trunk out walking around a city with some of the most hot to trot lads and lasses in all the lands. Where do they find the time I always wonder as the breeze from their slickly coiffed pony tail whips by my face, the faint glow of their perfectly coordinated neon outfit leaving acid like trails in my eyes.

Even when I do put down the bloody mary's and go to the gym IF I can find a sports bra, non thigh high socks AND a hair tie that didn't come off a banana, I consider it a feat akin to stealing fire from the gods.

Perhaps these uber manicured people don't have four jobs and an elderly dog that walks about as fast as a sea turtle defiantly crawling up a sand dune to lay it's eggs. It is also possible that they don't have a gaggle of oscar worthy actresses as bff's having Fukashima style life meltdowns every other day....

..Because somehow, everyone is buff and on their 12th day of a cleanse that consists of a combination of sheer determination, a murder forgiving level of insanity and cold pressed, gluten free, sugar free, kosher, vegan rabbit pellets. OR they're all on enough adderall to power all the vibrators of all the housewives in the mid west... I DON'T KNOW how people do it.

What was my point again? OH YES. No pants Subway ride. Put on every year by the wonderful mischief makers at Improv Everywhere Now, I like my tuchus, it's warm and friendly and easy to talk too... BUT I am NOT an instagram girl with a instant Miami toe, and practiced selfie pout, who likes to be naked in public. I get really nervous, anytime I have to put out or get it high school style, I'm all talk. I don't like being anything close to in my under roos around strangers. 
It also does not help that I've gained a soaking wet pre schooler in weight this year and yet despite that I live in a hamster cage sized apartment with less closet space than John Malcovich's head, I still have a LARGE section of clothes in my closet I refer to lovingly as "the way we were...." or "yeah right," for short.

I can't decide whether it's my cheap Jewey Lewis and the News mentality of never throwing anything out that doesn't have mice actively living inside of it OR my Ozymandias like insistence that once day I'll have Bridget Jones Moment where I throw all my sins in a garbage bin and obsessively go to soul cycle classes whatever the hell that is, and finally fit into my club gear from 09'. Sadly, I've finally come to the conclusion that unless I actually amputate a leg or ALL my ribs disappear magically, this is not going to happen.

So I guess I wanted to do this event because I thought it would be good practice for me to walk out with my cock out in New York Fucking City and....It was just wonderful. So what is the point? I walked around pretty much naked and black guys said i had that "Coco." This is apparently a good thing. Hurray!

Until Valentines day you can put my name into 's discount box and they'll give you 50% off anything in their online store, ship it to you for free and there will be a Zoe approved gift bag containing a vibrator, a special gift for him AND a mystery adult DVD yes yes i know they still make those!!