The company whose advertising is most obsessed with the male pelvic girdle is Abercrombie & Fitch. They love it.
My disgust with this senior guy at work is starting to wear on me. I have no interaction with him - I'm fairly certain he doesn't know I exist - but my hate for him is fueled by a dozen blast furnaces. I saw him twice today and after that the only thing I did was write a long diatribe about nothing in particular and went home really early. I want to be on the parent company's board of directors and have him fired. I think I'd probably be satisfied by that, but I could see myself also wanting to be sure he wound up destitute and unemployable, so making public some rumors of odd sexual practices would probably follow.
I am doing absurdly well in my college football pool. Here's my trick: I have absolutely no interest in the games, except for the ones Washington is in.