It got done.
Properly this time.
By a professional.
Thank God.
It's lovely.
And not nearly as painful as I had imagined.
OR, as painful as I made it when I attempted to do a professionals work myself, in my bathroom, with no mirror, while hunched over and sitting on the toilet.
You're welcome for the visual. (I should actually be apologizing...)
Okay, so I didn't do it.
Well, not completely...
I started, really, I did.
I wasn't fully prepared to flay myself out on a chaise lounge in some overpriced salon, so I bought a home Brazilian kit.
96.8% of it is still in the container in my purse.
Sweet Mother Fuck.
It hurt.
A lot.
I read all the instructions, prepared the "non-waxy, creamy" textured Satan GOO according to microwave directions.
Next, I spread it on as per said instructions, but since I'm a vagina waxing virgin, I started with a loonie sized drop of the horrible green sludge.
Notsofuckingmuch.
It was a "non-strip" kit, which meant you slather the shit on, wait a moment for it to cool, cock your leg up on the sink, pull up a small corner, brace yourself, bite down on a leather strap, and pull.
Long, sad story short, I look a wee bit like a cheetah downtown.
Schick it is.
Hey Kids,
I'm moving!
Not only am I moving out of my little crack shack, I'm moving into a real live house!!
My internet will be away until the 7th, and I know you're all thinking; "It's not like the bitch is posting anything lately anyway, I don't know why she thinks we care." but, I do.
Think you care that is.
Really.
Don't you?
I promise, I'll be back.
I literally open my Blogger every single day with the intention of posting something witty and clever, but I just can't do it.
My poor mind is frazzled and on overload.
Please forgive my asshole-yness.
I totally saw Mother Fuckin' Cookie Ears at the mall the other night..
I damn near shit my pants.
Her flowing Brillo Pad hair was tucked ever so gently behind them, which only served to accentuate the sheer size of her mammoth hearing vessels.
Seriously, I can't shake her.
Perhaps that small hole I noticed in my neck last year around this time was actually a GPS unit Cookies had installed to keep track of me.
All I hear as I type this are the lyrics to Somebody's Watching Me, by Rockwell...
Creepy.
To Brazil.
I'm going to need the ladies on this one..
Men, I'm sure you're going to comment as well..
So, girls, how do you feel about Brazilian waxing?
I'm on the fence..
Oh, how I've missed you..
Seriously, I thought about you every day.
Still do.
I don't know how I could treat you this way.
I'm a much better person than that.
I've slacked and that's just plain unacceptable.
I've got so many hilarious stories from the new store, I don't even know where to start..
I'm going to have to compile a short story book and send it to you all.
Would you read it?
I went to the pharmacy a few minutes ago to pick up a few amenities.
I get to the counter and the young gentleman who served me rings up my purchases and then tells me my total.
I hand over my money and my points card and he says:
"Thank you ma'am."
I snort a little and say:
"Ma'am!?"
(Completely kidding of course..)
He says:
"It's the polite thing to say!"
"Of course", I say.
He says; "Well, if you were in your twenties, I would have said Miss."
...
I am in my twenties.
For three more years.
Three FULL years.
DAMMIT!!
The following is my first guest post from none other that Captain Smack...
I'm sure you will be entertained!
-------
(In tonight's episode, The part of The Boob Lady will be played by Captain Smack.)
I never thought I'd be saying this, but I just don't get the kids today. Have you seen the new crop of kids? What is it with these idiots? They can't seem to do anything right. They can't drive worth a crap, they don't know the difference between a credit card and a debit card, they can't hold down a job. They have no sense of civic responsibility, they never show up at the polls on election day... they haven't bothered to learn to read or write or do math. Hell, most of the one's I've met don't even know how to walk or talk. No, they just lay around all day, drooling on themselves and making funny noises.
And, frankly, they smell weird.
These people contribute almost nothing to society, and yet they expect their “Mommies” to take care of them. It's truly pathetic. And the worst part is that that's exactly what these mommies do! They coddle them and fawn all over them, feed them, dress them, and tuck them into bed. They even bathe them, for crying out loud. And talk about attention whores – oh my GOD! These kids are almost as bad as Paris Hilton! They need almost CONSTANT attention. They always seem to want something.... if it's not attention they're after, then it's food. If it's not food, then it's a beverage. Sometimes they even want you to change their clothes because they have literally crapped themselves. Their “gimme gimme gimme” attitude never ends. And when they don't get what they want right away? They start crying. Next thing you know, here comes Mommy to sooth and pamper them until they're pacified. Personally, I find the whole thing a little sickening.
Look - I'm not trying to be insensitive here, ok? It's not that I have anything against this segment of society, but I say it's time to cut the little monsters off. No more free lunches. No more free rides. No more patting them on the back, I don't care how bad they have to burp. It's for their own good. If you keeping taking care of them and indulging their every whim, what chance do they have of making it in the real world?
But do I blame the kids themselves? No. The blame rests upon the shoulders of all these soft, bleeding heart parents, who think that it's their duty to “nurture” these kids, to “take care of” them, to “provide them with food, shelter, and clothing”.
Seriously, you should hear some of the excuses these enabler's use. They say things like: “But they're only children” or “They will starve if I don't feed them”. Another little pearl of wisdom I hear a lot: “But you have to learn to crawl before you can walk”. Oh, and let's not forget my favorite excuse: “But their prefrontal lobes have not yet fully developed, thereby making analytical and linguistic functioning virtually impossible”. Oh, cry me a river. It's almost as if these parents – especially the females, let's be honest – are somehow programmed to believe all this nonsense. It's almost like it's some type of built-in "biological drive" or something.
Well, I've had enough. I say it's time to cut the umbilical cord. I say it's time to ween them from their mother's teet. I say it's time for these kids to stop crying, straighten up, and start walking on their own two feet.
They're not getting any younger, you know.
Big Orange had a great idea.
He suggested that I have a guest blogger while I get back into the swing of things...
If you would like to guest blog, please, leave me a comment or drop me a line.. I would love to hear from you!!
I really am alive this time.
I've been going through some stuff and needed a breather.
I tapped the well dry.
Hopefully you still love me.
I miss you.
x
I'm alive!
Before you send out search parties, or a mob, I thought I'd make an appearance.
I'm sorry I've kept you waiting so long...
I'm a terrible person..
I know that.
I promise you though, that I will be back in full form soon.
I have seen great benefit come of my hiatus, I'm feeling refreshed, and ready to knock your socks off.
Don't break up with me yet.
x
Overheard while waiting in line to pay for my fill-up at the Gas Station convenience store:
Cashier: "Sir, did you have any gas with that?"
Man Carrying Rolaids: "No, just the rolaids."
*Blush*
Me: *Snicker.*
Guess who I saw today?
Mother fuckin' cookie ears!!!
I swear, she was trotting around the mall in a pair or high heel sneakers. Yeah, you know the ones.
Her earrings were BIGGER than ever!
I almost shat myself.
THEN... I went North in the city to the drug store, and lo and behold, in strolls cookie ears.
Sumbitch.
I can't shake her.
So, I've switched jobs.
I'm working for a top athletic retailer now.
Quite the shift from my previous employer.
So far, I'm loving it.
I went from slinging bras and panties to schlepping sneakers and insoles.
Who knew?
I'll have plenty of hilarious stories to tell soon, I've got a few under my belt already, I'm just waiting for the right time to spring them on you.
Thanks for sticking around, it means a lot.
Plus, feel free to call me whatever you like; The Boob Lady, The Foot Lady, I'll leave the title of the blog as is for now, until I find a name that suits it perfectly.
Hey Kids,
I'm alive..
I'm terribly sorry that I'm not commenting or blogging right now.
I started a new job and I've been working for what seems the last 203981203987 days.
I promise, I won't let you down.
I'll be back.
With a vengeance.
You'll see.
Stick with me.
x
