Close Fucking Call
I took the opportunity today to have my buzzard plucked, seeing as how Veteran's Day was being observed and I had the entire day off. And, well, seeing as how TOMORROW is the actual Veteran's Day, and I'll be saluting my wonderful veteran, I figured now was a good time to get my wax on. It's the least I can do to show my appreciation for his effort at protecting our country, ya know?
I cruised on up to the salon, eagerly texting him to announce that Operation: Vagina Freedom was about to commence, and strutted my freshly showered self into the lobby. All was right with the world as my 'beautician', Jane, escorted me back into the top secret world of bush waxing, and had me grab a seat as she prepped her room for the return of my cho-cha. Well, as I rounded the corner to plop my ass onto a piece of couch, there stood the mother of two of my high school friends, and immediately, my heart plummeted to the bottoms of my old school Nike's.
Immediately, I turned the tables and struck up a conversation about having the day off and loving my government job and the weather and her plans for the day and the Vikings and gas prices and Thanksgiving and Britney Spears and country music and anything else under the sun that would prevent her from asking me WHY EXACTLY I WAS AT THE SPA. I guess I could have stuttered and spat and stumbled and said that I was just getting my eyebrows waxed, but seriously, who goes to the spa for that and only that? My pulse raced and my palms sweat during our entire two minute conversation, and I'm pretty sure the heavens opened and I heard angels break into chorus when she said she needed to use the bathroom. Phew! SAVED!
Don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of having a hairless wookie, but I'd prefer to broadcast that fact to strangers on the internet as opposed to people I'll continue to see until one or both of us expire. Well, now, that's not true. I DO talk about it in person with my friends and confidants, but I don't think a woman who has known me since elementary school needs to have a visual of what's going on with my genitalia. Ish. If word got out in my hometown, they'd probably think I'd joined a sex offender cult, and that I was earning extra cash by shooting porno movies. That's just how folks roll over in that neck of the woods.
I made it out of the spa a little lighter and without having to utter the word "Brazilian" to anyone other than Crazy Jane, and for that I am thankful. My piss flaps have their game face on again, and tomorrow they're going to salute the shorts of one very randy soldier. Happy Veteran's Day, all.
I cruised on up to the salon, eagerly texting him to announce that Operation: Vagina Freedom was about to commence, and strutted my freshly showered self into the lobby. All was right with the world as my 'beautician', Jane, escorted me back into the top secret world of bush waxing, and had me grab a seat as she prepped her room for the return of my cho-cha. Well, as I rounded the corner to plop my ass onto a piece of couch, there stood the mother of two of my high school friends, and immediately, my heart plummeted to the bottoms of my old school Nike's.
Immediately, I turned the tables and struck up a conversation about having the day off and loving my government job and the weather and her plans for the day and the Vikings and gas prices and Thanksgiving and Britney Spears and country music and anything else under the sun that would prevent her from asking me WHY EXACTLY I WAS AT THE SPA. I guess I could have stuttered and spat and stumbled and said that I was just getting my eyebrows waxed, but seriously, who goes to the spa for that and only that? My pulse raced and my palms sweat during our entire two minute conversation, and I'm pretty sure the heavens opened and I heard angels break into chorus when she said she needed to use the bathroom. Phew! SAVED!
Don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of having a hairless wookie, but I'd prefer to broadcast that fact to strangers on the internet as opposed to people I'll continue to see until one or both of us expire. Well, now, that's not true. I DO talk about it in person with my friends and confidants, but I don't think a woman who has known me since elementary school needs to have a visual of what's going on with my genitalia. Ish. If word got out in my hometown, they'd probably think I'd joined a sex offender cult, and that I was earning extra cash by shooting porno movies. That's just how folks roll over in that neck of the woods.
I made it out of the spa a little lighter and without having to utter the word "Brazilian" to anyone other than Crazy Jane, and for that I am thankful. My piss flaps have their game face on again, and tomorrow they're going to salute the shorts of one very randy soldier. Happy Veteran's Day, all.
posted by Snap at 3:39 PM
6 Comments:
You are the Queen of Euphemisms. My vocabulary is enriched with your every post. Thank you.
You crack me up. Seriously--you NEVER cease to amaze me. You porn star, you.
Piss flaps!
You and my husband are siblings, I know it!
Did it hurt ae bad this time?
I NEED to know who you ran into!! You must email me!!
omg, you are hilarious!! first, of all, all I can say is "rookie!" if no one does it, no one (least of all an older lady) is going to expect it.
just you wait. your toes are going to curl!! hee hee.
happy veterans day, indeed!
I love my brazilian - so does my hubby. I am embarrassed to advertise it too though!
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