Gospel Song

I'm gonna go to hell for laughing at this baby, but this is funny. (My aunt says this is why some people should just usher.) All I want to know is: where is this child's mama? Did his daddy send this in to AFV?

For My Lady Blogger Buddies

Okay - and the guys too. Anyone who wants to laugh. No post today, so enjoy this. It was given to me yesterday when I went to lunch with my office family. I'm surprised we weren't kicked out of the place. I'm not sure who wrote it, but YOU WILL LAUGH. (It's a little long...)

CAUTION: Be prepared to laugh out loud!

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.

(YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my "honey pot" and stretching down to the inside of my ass cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. OH NO! What have I done???!!! Another deep breath and RRIIP! P!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. WHAT?! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, my "man magnet". Which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. My

LIFE FLASHES BEFORE ME!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Kooter? Sealed shut! Ass?? Sealed shut! Both sealed tighter than

Fort Knox!!!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to Shit! My head may, quite frankly, just pop off!"

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!

I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.

Now, the only thing worse than having your ass and nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter -

"So girlfriend, my ass and "kitty" are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"

There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking your ass and crotch?" She must be reveling in humor and wantsme to repeat it for her enjoyment.

She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.

While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your "man hole" girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!

By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on my cooch, and

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.

It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.

"IT WORKS!! It works!!"

I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!! Looking like an Osama Bin Laden gotee!

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color.....

Now that's funny ........ Notttttttttt.

Send this on to other ladies who need a good laugh!

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and I could say, "I used everything that you gave me"~Erma Bombeck

Bad Girl Karma

God is gonna get me, 'cause everybody know: He don't like ugly, and this afternoon, I was SUCH a bad girl. (A HAPPY bad girl, but still...)

Here's what happened:

I was out in the parking lot taking a personal phone call - one of those you don't want people in the office listening in on. Rates right up there with making an appointment with your GYN or a private psychic (and I'm kidding - I don't mess with that kind of stuff - the psychic, I mean). So, there's a doctor's office right next to ours & there's this one chick who's always coming and going. I think she's the wife or girlfriend to the doc. Drives a smoking little BMW, wears hot pants that James Brown would dig, and works a walk to and from the car like she's on a fashion ramp in Milan. She is a pretty lady, I'll give her that. Blonde, tall, leggy, but extremely thin (I'm talking thin like Nicole Richie on a hunger strike), and sort of, um... preserved-looking - you know, like, she's had everything bonded, capped, plated, inflated - all that "Doctor 90210" kind of stuff. But, still, pretty - or maybe I should say she's striking. One of those people you will notice.

So, I'm out there in this hell-hot sun, trying to have my conversation and spray sunscreen on at the same time (yeah - I usually carry my sunscreen around with me) & Pretty Chick comes strutting out of the office next door. She does her walk (one that men probably visualize as happening in slow-mo & set to porno music) over to that hot-looking car of hers, opens the door, and - just when she's about to do the whole smooth duck-and-slide-into-the-seat move, the heel on her shoe must have twisted or something. I don't know. All I saw from where I stood (watching, of course) was that she was there one minute - all 5 foot maybe 9 inches tall - and the next... bloop. It's like she just disappeared.

(Maybe I told you all before about a friend of ours who slid under a car on some Alaska winter ice... Maybe not. Anyway, I had a flashback of that when Pretty Chick slid out of my sight the way she did. It was like a David Blaine moment.)

Of course, I paused talking on the phone to try to see what had happened. For a minute, nothing. Then, I see ol' girl pulling herself up on the side of the car. Hair all jacked up, one side of her outfit dusty... And she's red-faced embarrassed. I realized what had happened. She'd made that one too-cute move that sometimes goes all wrong on ya & busted her foxy ass right there in the parking lot.

Now.

Maybe because I just needed a good laugh, or maybe 'cause I really am kind of a bitch sometimes - I don't know what the reason is, but I just FELL OUT laughing. Like to broke something in my side I was so tickled. I'm talking head back, mouth open and LOUD, country-fied laughing. The kind of laughing you usually try to hold in reserve for when you're just around people you're real comfortable with. Whoo!

Then, maybe cause I just needed that laugh so bad, I couldn't stop. Every time I tried to get that mess under some kind of control, it hit me fresh again. I couldn't even catch my breath to talk long enough to explain to my conversation partner what the deal was. (The person on the other end of the phone doesn't know me REAL well, but by the time I got through, I had HER laughing. She didn't even know what was so funny. All I managed to tell her was, "I'll have to call you later.")

Now. Pretty Chick can hear me laughing. People TWO BLOCKS away could probably hear me laughing. But. I. Can't. Help. It.

When P.C. finishes dusting herself off, she shoots me a glare hotter than the AZ sun & then bops her butt on into her ride. That should've made me feel a little bit ashamed of myself, but it just set me off again. While she was giving me a look and trying to play like she hadn't just toasted her ass on that hot ground, I was thinking she might ought to just concentrate on not hurting herself again.

So, oh yeah - if there's such a thing as karma, or if Karma has a cousin called Payback - I'm in for some trouble. But it was worth it.

How sad is that? It took someone else's clumsy misfortune to lift my blues completely away. I'm telling you: I'm STILL laughing as I type this. Pretty Chick is going to hate me for a long time, but she's given me a gift. For at least the next ten years, every time I need a chuckle, all I'm going to have to do is remember her little moment in the sun. (Of course, I won't be trying to run into her in the parking lot. She's almost anorexic, but I bet she could step on me without lifting her leg too high.)

Y'all better pray for me 'cause I have a bill coming for this one. Either I'm going to fall, slide, or trip. Something. Life just does not give away the laugh I got today without a collection notice.

Peace
--Free