And we're puttin' it on wax / It's the new style...

My hilarious friend told me a hilarious story about going for her first bikini wax.  It was for Valentine's Day, and she'd been dumped on two previous VDs, so she wanted to make sure her new boyfriend knew how much he meant to her.  (Obviously, this is not my story!  I have yet to meet a guy who's worth scalping my bunny for.  And it's not like I'm some freakishly hairy Polack.  Kidding!  Love you!)  The next part gets gross; if you're a male, you probably want to stop reading now.

My friend (NOT ME) is sitting at work and realizes she just got her period.  But she's in an important meeting that she cannot leave.  She has to sit there for two hours, leaking.  Luckily, she had a sweater to tie around her waist to hide her pants.  She leaves work to go get waxed.  She's super mortified/nervous because not only does she have to get naked for a stranger, but she had to take her tampon out because she didn't want the waxer to know she had her period. 

So she starts sweating.  Down there.  Profusely.  She's so sweaty that the waxer tries to use powder, but it's no match for her oh my god am I getting my period all over the table as my legs are splayed out infront of this total stranger who is applying hot wax to my vagina perspiration.  The wax won't stick!  Waxer has to keep reapplying, but to no avail.  The whole thing took like three hours (not really), and then her boyfriend hurt himself surfing, so he didn't even get to appreciate her well-coiffed crotch.  But she didn't get dumped.  That's something?

The Low-Hanging Fruit

I decided I should maybe start taking more pictures of stuff for my blog.  This was the only thing I saw this week that made me get out my camera.  As you can see, I really shouldn't be getting my camera out anymore.  Taking pictures is for people who don't have photographic memories.  (Don't get all excited, it only helps me with spelling and dwelling on the past.) 

I am sorry if I seem like a total perv lately.  It should only get worse because I haven't even kissed anyone since December of 2009.   And no, I didn't eat the strawberry.

And since we're I'm getting pervy, here's what happens when you fall asleep at your friend's house and there are a bunch of jokesters around.  (I need to start designing extra-long chaise lounges before the rigormortis becomes permanent.)

Out of the Loop

Behold the new Sonicare toothbrush that runs on batteries and costs about $25.  You will giggle the first time you use it, but then you will be a true convert.  Apparently, there is an adjustment period, because I am having major drool issues and also sprayed my hair, neck, and even my feet with toothpaste this morning.  Stupid mouthbreathing while brushing my teeth! 

As for my shoes, ran in them again on Monday.  Still like them.  No squeaking this time.  They are springy when you walk, but not as much when you run.  This is probably obvious to most people, but not to me.  Also, DO NOT run on an uneven surface with these shoes.  Trail running would be an exercise in ankle rolling.  As long as you avoid potholes in the road, you'll be fine.  On Monday, as I was looking to the heavens, praying to Jah for a crossbreeze, I hit a bump in the road and almost went down.  So just pay attention and you should be fine.  Also, the springy sensation will make you run around more, when you should probably just walk.  An example of this would be if you are trying to re-install a hot water heater and you decide to run across your uneven lawn in the dark.  But hey, if your butt looks rounder and higher, it is worth it!

Okay, and I also need to know if the following is weird:  Once a week I splurge on an $8 sandwich for lunch outside of my classroom.  (Yeah, I know that part is weird.)  I sip Diet Dr. Pepper and read trashy magazines.  It is heaven.  Anyway, I'm reading the tramp manual that is Cosmo, and there is some article about 99 things you can do to a guy in bed.  And one of the suggestions--and this isn't a direct quote, but it's probably pretty close--was to wear a belt during doggie style so that your guy can pull on the belt for leverage.  Double You Tee Eff???  Isn't that a bit much, even for Cosmo?  What girl would come up with that tip?  Am I the only person who isn't doing this?  Is this a common practice these days?  Comment, please.

I do not like it THAT rough!

Took today off and had an MRI done on my neck.  It was sucky for many reasons.  It's like lying in a coffin, and even if you don't get claustrophobic, you can't help yourself when your neck is strapped into this giant donut from hell machine.  You cannot move, and this leads to your face itching like crazy.  And the best part is when you only have five minutes left, and they tell you that under no circumstance are you to swallow for the next five minutes.  Which makes your mouth instantly fill up with saliva. 

Also had a massage today with the Russian.  I think she chokes me on purpose.  I'm serious.  And she kneads my shoulder blades so hard that the entire massage table rocks to and fro and I get a little seasick.  But I am addicted to her massages--they're the best.  They are worth the thumb print bruises on my neck that look like hickeys.  And I love how every other massage therapist plays Enya and she plays really bad Soviet rock.  And when she likes the song she turns it way up and then the pain really begins in earnest. 

Work has been really bad this week.  The kids are being ridiculous.  I hardly ever write referrals and I wrote two yesterday.  So I figured a spicy tuna roll and a Chimay for Happy Hour were necessary after work yesterday.  But I'm not really comfortable going to bars alone.  At four o'clock in the afternoon.  But there were a buttload of people there.  Watched some Olympic hockey and texted so as to not look/feel like a loser.  Some guys were sitting next to me but weren't flirting with me.  I read the paper.  Texted my super outgoing BFF for moral support.  Then a tall hot guy sat down with the guys next to me!  Ordered another beer.   Cursed my shyness.   Reminded myself that my fun friend and I singlehandedly were responsible for almost getting a large portion of the Philadelphia Flyers organization thrown in the clink. 

And then curling came on.  This sport is so odd, so mesmerizing, that I think everyone in the bar started talking to the stranger next to them as soon as they recovered from the shock that this is an Olympic sport.  This guy is an Olympic athlete.  And he may want to get that thing on his mouth checked.

Source: Getty Images

So I am talking to the obnoxious friend who is super hilar.  He's from Boston so we spend 20 minutes cutting each other down. He is trying really hard, until I get up to run to the restroom and he notices I'm a good 8" taller than he is.  He loses interest.  Tall cute guy is wearing a tie.  I don't usually go for guys in ties, but maybe that is why I end up with bums?  "Ties in 2010" is this year's motto.  Maybe.  Neither guy can figure out why I'm smart and still a teacher.  I do not have an answer for this.  I decide I should leave.  They convince me to stay.  I say I have to go for an MRI in the morning and they want to hear about my accident.  Just so happens that their friends that show up ten minutes later are both attorneys.  So now I have a lawyer.  Who says that drinking alone at a bar in the daytime is unproductive?

Real Quick-Like

Update on the running shoes:  I wore them yesterday and ran a few miles.  Since I haven't gone yogging in the past month, it was especially torturous.  The shoes squeaked with every step, but that muffled the sound of my wheezing, which I see as a plus.  They were definitely cushy, but not springy.  And herein lies the problem.  I love running b/c it's such a battle with yourself to not stop after each step.  Springy shoes make it a little easier to keep going.  Shoes that are making it difficult by throwing off your balance a teeny bit are not the best thing motivation-wise.  I am sore today, and I usually don't get sore until two days after running, so maybe that means that they really, really work and I am totally effed tomorrow.

Pigtales

Just finished taking a shower at my neighbor's (not that one) house because my hot water heater is still broken.  I loved his shower because it only contained a bar of Irish Spring and a nail brush.  Nothing else.  So manly and cute.  And he tried to decorate his bathroom all by himself and he painted the walls a color that can only be described as vomitous and added a tile pattern to his shower to match the walls.  But his spartan approach to toiletries became annoying when I was looking for some lotion to put on after the shower.  While his shower is cute, guys like this are also annoying because then you can never borrow any of their stuff because you'll smell like a sailor or something.


I'm hanging out on his couch, watching him play video games, and there's a knock on the door and who should walk in but the ex.  I rolled my eyes, gave him a dirty look and left immediately.  So now my neighbor has to deal with explaining to him why I was wearing pj's and looked like I'd just gotten out of his shower. 

In other neighbor news, I thought I'd fill you in on the guy who knocked on my door and drunkenly demanded my number.  Some of you may remember one of my amazing fb updates about almost running over my neighbor one night because he was standing in the driveway in head-to-toe camo holding a crossbow.  (He later informed me it was just a bow.  Eff off, Squanto, I'll call it what I want.)  So it turns out that he is friends with one of my friends and they were over at his place for dinner and would I like to come over?  I was hungry so I went.  He was nice and even invited me to go hog hunting with him this past weekend.

Uhm, weekends (okay, Saturdays since I'm too tired to go out on Friday) are meant for cocktails three ways.  1. Some form of Ketel One in the form of a cocktail.  2.  Cute cocktail dresses.  3.  Girls hanging out always leads to sex stories, so it's tales, but you get my drift.  I will not freeze my ass off in the woods trying to kill something on a perfectly good Saturday night, but thanks for the offer.  Then it dawned on me that I should ask what we were having for dinner.  So yeah, what looked like fish was actually the wild pig he had killed the night I almost killed him.  Awesome.  I love when things come full circle.  So I had to eat it.  (I am not the biggest meat fan.)  And to make it that much more revolting, there was this huge, coarse black hair on it.  It was the poor pig's.  I threw up later.  Fer realz.

So while lying out today I had some epiphanies.  My first one is that VIP/Bottle Service is a bad idea.  Not that I'm always hanging out in the VIP room, but I really love anything that involves velvet ropes and exclusion.  The problem is that once you have the table, you don't have to stand in line to get drinks, and since there's a bottle right infront of you, and you weren't raised to waste other people's money, you need to drink up.  And then you're so comfortable sitting down you don't dance.  And then you're wasted.  Then sometimes you realize you're wasted and stop drinking, but since there is a full can of Red Bull right infront of you, you decide to drink the entire can even though it is already two in the morning.  And here's a pic of me having deep thoughts while hanging out with all my friends last night.  Gay bars are bad for the self esteem but good for never having to wait in line to use the ladies room.

Okay, I have to go to bed.  Will try to finish this tomorrow...

Why I'm an Idiot and Other News

There is no other news.  I am an idiot.  Here's why:

1.  I really enjoy deleting guys' numbers from my list of contacts.  It gives me an incredible sense of satisfaction and power.  It keeps me from making poor decisions late at night.  Usually.

I thought I had deleted Arrogant Guy's number after he hadn't called me within a week.  And with the computer guy's home and work numbers, my neighbor's number (more about that later), and the constant string of new numbers from my ex who is incapable of handling the responsibility of having a real phone, there were a bunch of unsaved, unfamiliar numbers popping up on my phone.  So the text that I got which had some lyric from a stupid song, and some stupid setiment written underneath said stupid lyric, must be from AG since I'm irresistible.  So when I wrote back some nerdy retorts (why can't I learn my lesson and BE NICE to guys?), it took me all of two replies to realize that now I was texting my ex.  Bad.  Very bad.  Because now he won't leave me alone even though I texted him that I thought he was a different guy.  The ex called me last night to see if he could crash on my couch because, through no fault of his own, he is currently homeless.  If I had just checked my contacts, and seen that I hadn't deleted AG's number, this could have all been avoided.

(from expatbrazil wordpress)

2.  Went out in Wilton Manors last night.  Now for those of you not in the no-no, this is like the east coast version of The Castro.  So I'm surrounded by gay men and no one is paying attention to me.  I get drunk.  I get bored.  I pick up my phone.  Decide to text my professor who lives in WM and say "Hey, I know you probably hate me but I'm down in WM.  Would like to see you now that I'm free from that awful school."  I figured he would have my number saved under "Super Needy Unhinged Thesis Student Don't Answer Under Any Circumstances."  I waited to hear back.  Got a text this morning from him asking "who is this??"  I suddenly realized that if he hadn't saved my number, I might look like a former student who was in love with him and finally wanted to let him know now that I'd graduated and it wouldn't be awkward.  Super fun!

More later.  The sun is shining for the first time in months; I'm headed to the beach.