Showing posts with label frenemies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frenemies. Show all posts

Friday, July 2, 2010

Of Waxes and Wankers

I got my monthly bikini wax yesterday. Oh yes, I get it done every month and oh yes, it hurts. But that little bit of quick pain is nothing, NOTHING compared to the agonizing itch of a shaved kitty growing out. No thanks. Right around the three week mark, I start craaaving my wax. There is nothing quite like the compact, aerodynamic smoothness of a perfect bikini wax. (Note I did not say Brazilian-- I don't look like a toddler, thankyouverymuch.)

My aesthetician is awesome. I love her because she's super hippy-dippy and you can totally tell. She has the stoner lilt in her voice and wears the signature flowy hippy threads, and I can SO see her with dreads as a younger woman. She's super fast with the wax, a perfectionist about my symmetry and we chat the whole time so not only is the appointment always fun for me, it rarely goes past twenty minutes no matter what I'm having done. And yesterday, she regaled me with one of the funniest stories I have ever heard.

I had asked her if men ever came in to get their bits waxed, and how that worked. I was just curious. I'd caught Husband manscaping that morning and teased him about how I was going to get my stuff yanked that day and maybe he should think about that. Not that I would EVER ask him or even want him to do it, I just like to see him squirm sometimes, like people do to their spouses! His reaction was so funny that I remembered it while in my appointment, so I asked her. I will tell you her answer in her own words:

"Oh yeahh, I have some guys who come in to see me fairly regularly. I'm the only one here who'll wax men; the other girls are too squeamish because the skin actually comes off quite a bit. Cause you know, the ball skin is so stretchy? You have to stretch it out and hold it really super tight or else it's so delicate it'll come off with the hair. Yeah, had that happen a time or two. Now I just do their regular bikini lines down through the taint area and their little bumholes and encourage them to shave their balls if they want that. OMG Gini! One of my regular guys, he's a cancer doctor, and he likes his shit aaaaallll the way off. Insists that I wax his junk. Okay fine. Well he was in last week and okay, this is kind of a common reaction to the warm wax and you know, my huge rack because I AM seven months preg and my tits? are super bouncy and YUM. (Insert laughter here. Actually, wherever you laughed throughout all this is where I laughed because this is why I love my aesthetician.) But anyway, this doctor was toootally getting a boner and I just ignored it and kept chatting because, you know, it happens. What does NOT happen though, is what he did NEXT. He started strokin it, right in front of me! And I was like 'whoa, hey, hey man! Not cool!' And he just goes 'wha? Oh, sorry,' like he didn't even know what he was doing! Whatever! I totally know he was fondling his woody to see if I'd be fine with it! Like he thought I was soo preg and soo hormonal and horny and seeing him get fresh was gonna make me lose control and jump him or something! And theeeennnnn, the bastard didn't even tip me more than usual. He always tips $20. I mean, if he was really sorry, which he wasn't, wouldn't he at least be like, 'dude, I tried to beat off in front of you, sorry, here's $40 or $50?' because YEAH. I still only got $20. "

By this point she was pretty much done with my wax and I hadn't even felt it because I was cracking up and interjecting my opinion the whole time. So we moved on to eyebrows and she talked some more:

"Some of our massage therapists have gotten propositioned before. And you know, this is a nice place, a nice salon, it's not like we're a massage parlor or anything. But the guys totally don't relax, they get boners and wait for the girls to notice and then they're like 'hey baby, want a nice tip?' One of the girls told me she was offered $500 to 'just graze it.' Like with her arm. You know, it's probably a good thing I'm not one of the massage therapists because, I dunno. If we're at like the week before Christmas or something....I just might graze it. $500! What would I get for like, touching the tip or 'accidentally' sticking my finger up his ass? It would be like, a prostate massage. Yeah."

One of the best appointments I've ever had. My face seriously ached from laughing by the time we started up the stairs to the receptionist. And then!!! I reached the top step and turned the corner, and who should I see waiting for her in an armchair but the Office Loony! For transparency's sake, I should note that while we were friends, Office Loony actually did refer me to this aesthetician I love so much. But I know she's not a regular client because when she started working in my department, I asked my aesthetician if this gal ever came in and she said only like once or twice a year, which confirmed my suspicion. Office Loony only comes to see her when she's met a guy who will actually fuck her, so I was surprised to see her since she usually scares guys off pretty much within hours of her deciding she likes him. So I saw her as she looked up from her magazine and our eyes locked-- and since the laughs had already been flowing from me so easily, and since I know Office Loony's history of coming to the aesthetician, and since we see each other frequently at work and I know she hates it when I so cheerfully smile at her, AND since I knew that SHE knew she would be lying on the same bed in the same room, breathing the same air and being waxed by the same hands, ALL of which TOTALLY pissed her off, you will of course understand and forgive that I simply couldn't stop a sharp, staccato "HA!" from absconding from my wide and grinning mouth.

And I walked past her, belatedly answering a question posed by my lovely and pregnant friend, paid, and left. Still laughing.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Purse Bitch

Okay. So I have this dilemma and prease help me. I promise the end of this post has a point. I have a Blackberry and it's whatever. I refuse to pay for internet service because it's like $30 and what tard is going to pay that to have internet on their phone? (read: all my tard friends I LOVE JOO) I clog my head with the internet all day long as it is, I don't need to be available while I'm in the john too. AT&T doesn't require us to buy internet for this smartphone because we got bought it before the data plan was required to be purchased along with. Anyways. A couple years ago, I lost the super special Blackberry sheath that came along with it. My cousin Bev keeps telling me to call it a "sleeve" like any other normal person, but I like "sheath," it makes me think of condoms. 

So this awesome sheath protected the phone and had some crazy magnet magic in it that automatically "slept" the phone while it was in there to conserve battery power-- and, most importantly to this gal who really likes drinky drinks with a clutch under her arm, I discovered that it also prevented my purse from roller-balling through my address book and calling random people. Yes, I am aware I have a lock feature on the phone. I use it all the time. You hold down the Mute button and it locks-- I use that all the time but it's wimpy and somehow whilst moving around in my purse any given weekend night, the lock gets turned off and then all hell breaks loose. My purses will purse-dial, purse-text and leave drunk purse-messages and sometimes it's funny. Normally I wouldn't care that much. But it is a PROBLEM and this is why: Purse doesn't like to call random people. She prefers to call one person.

More often than not, stupid ass Purse decides it would be hilarious, HILARIOUS!! to purse-dial one of my Spanish classmates (now former classmate given that I've independently graduated from the shackles of corporate schooling albeit while shackling myself to corporate America but I DIGRESS), a classmate who happens to be a very good-looking 42-year-old corporate lawyer. With a hot name. WITH A FAMILY. Of all the 200+ contacts I have in my phone, Purse thinks it's the fucking BEST to scroll down to his letter and give the guy's balls a jingle. It's happened like a million fucking times. Lucky for me she only calls his office since I have that set as the primary number. But really, if Purse can scroll to his name, she'll figure out how to scroll to the secondary number. So I changed his name to just the last name, then just his initials and then HCL (Hot Corporate Lawyer...to whom we will now refer as HCL, assuming I ever mention him again) to see if that stopped the madness, but bitch ass Purse was on to me and somehow figured it out. How does this happen in a fucking purse??? It's just getting jostled under my arm, maybe by my ass if the bar table is all wet and I tuck it behind me on the chair-- that's ALL. It's not like I'm playing catch with the purse and she decides to get revenge. I'm not losing her in the bar or dropping her on the gross ass floor. I don't spill shit on her. I take care of my things and she is just an UNGRATEFUL frenemy bitch! Purse doesn't purse-dial anyone so much as she purse-dials him because she knows he is the absolute worst person I could ever pick for a purse-dial, pocket-dial, or drunk dial. (Note: I have never drunk-dialed anyone. Wee!) Purse hasn't yet figured out how to purse-dial his cell phone instead of his office phone, so he has miraculously only received one purse-dial out of literally a dozen attempts by Purse (which was actually a pocket-dial). But really, it's just a matter of time. Purse is gonna figure it out and when she does, HCL's wife is going to crucify me and murdelize him. 

So this brings me to my dilemma. I told you there was a point and the point is that I'm looking online for a new sheath so I can contain this plague of frequent Purse-herpes and they are a whopping $29.99 on the Blackberry site. Uh, fuck you. I got mine for free with my phone, I want another for near-free. So I looked on eBay and I found the same damn thing for prices ranging from $0.99 to $3.95. I really want to buy one of those but I'm paranoid-- they're not from Blackberry dealers, what does that mean? Is there going to be some crazy software in the magical sheath that downloads all my friends' info and sends them spam? Will there be mystery charges on our bills? Obvi I don’t even get online with this phone much less access anything password-protected, I just call and text, but I still don't want anything creepy downloaded on it. Is that even possible to do with a chip thingy in a sheath?

I thought perhaps I could change the lock feature to another button that might be harder for Purse to unlock, but I did and then look what happened when all I did was go to the symphony. By the way, I'm sparing you most of this text convo since it's awesomely cat. OOH, NEW CATEGORY!


Me: DUH, vicious snub! Bitch was a bitchy bitch to me!
Ellie: Just checkin yer brain. Husband want to be nice?
Me: He always does but I am a grudgemaster. Good thing she didn't approach.
Me
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Ellie: PURSE-DIALING!!!!
Me
Me:
Me:
Me:
Me:
Ellie: Tell purse bitch I'm goin to bed so knock it off!!
Me:
Me
Me: GOD DAMN PURSE!!!
  


So as you can see.....nipping this in the bud is of the utmost importance.