In spite of all this, person hygiene remains a hot pursuit of mine. Which is why I was shaving this morning.
Underarms. Legs. THERE.
And when I shave there, it’s not a blade situation <oh hell no>. It’s a grab-one-of-those-$9.99-wand-shaver-thingies-at-the-Walgreens and keep my bits and pieces safe from BLADES situation.
Safe ladyscaping — you, too, can practice this.
First, I’d like to talk about what comes up in the Google search when I type in “wand shaver.” This is also why I hate cookies.
So there I am, standing in front of the mirror this morning after my in-shower ladyscaping, continuing the ritual using a safe appliance.
Little on the left.
To the top and down.
Over to the right.
Which is precisely when some fucknut decided to send me a text message this morning.
It scared the everloving shit out of me and before I knew it, I’d colored outside the lines. Or, shaved.
My nether regions were clipped, alright. Right into an inadvertent Hitler moustache.
I might have used the word “motherfucker” right about then. I do feel, even in retrospect, that it was the best choice.
I mean, hipsters have ruined moustaches for everyone. Not even Tom Selleck could have a fighting chance and look at Geraldo Rivera — he still looks like a douche with his. Now you can’t unsee that. You’re welcome.
Did I ever mention that there was a time in my life where a moustache ride sponsored by Bert Reynolds would have been in my Top Five Things to Do on My Summer Vacation? Granted, I was underage at the time. What a hot sandwich. Today, he’s more like a day-old panini and after the roller coaster incidents in the news as of late, I ain’t gettin’ on that ride any time soon. Ill-maintained-as-fuck.
But I digress.
And so this is how I came to look like a hipster in a place that no one should look like a hipster. And frankly, no one should look like a pre-pubescent girl down there, either. Groomed, trimmed, nary a disco bush in sight.
So now, it’s not really a landing strip. It’s more like a runway at a small municipal airport that’s in serious need of repaving.
The best part? I looked at my phone when I was done swearing to see who in all mortal hell had texted me at 7:20-ish AM on a Tuesday.
Verizon Wireless — “Your bill is ready for viewing.”
I’m going to pay it late, purely on principle. It’s also why I’m tagging this post with my “bullshit” tag.