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Stardate 2067

What do the Starship Enterprise, and toliet paper have in common?

They both circle around Uranus looking for Kling-ons.


A woman’s tale of hair removal:

The girls (ok, all one of them other than me) should like this….who knows, maybe guys can identify, too? This was sent to me today.

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy,
painless removal - the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the
EpilStop, and now . . . The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home
from work, fixed dinner for my son. I then had the thought that would
ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use
that wax in my medicine cabinet. I set up my boy with a video and head
to the site of my demise, um, I mean bathroom.

It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot
wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press
it on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the frantically rising crescendo
of string instruments in the background. No muss, no fuss. How hard can
this be? I mean, I’m not the girly-est of girls but I’m mechanically
inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works.

You’d think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing
each other, stuck together. I’m supposed to rub it in my hand to warm
and soften the wax (I’m guessing). I go one better: I pull out the hair
dryer and heat it to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how
that phrase will come back to haunt me.)

I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull.
OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but it wasn’t bad. I can
do this!

Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am Sheera, fighter of all
wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire! With my next wax
strip, I move north.

I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the
same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my
bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into
the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.) I
inhale deeply. I brace myself. RRRIIIIPPP!!!!

I’m blind! Blind from the pain!

Vision returning.

Oh crap. I’ve managed to pull off only half an inch of the strip.
Another deep breath and RIIIP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed.

OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy - my
wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the
glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic
gold medalist. But there’s no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone?
Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the
toilet. I see hair - the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am
touching wax. I realize I have just begun living my own personal version
of “The Tar Baby.”

I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my
body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next
big mistake up until this point, you’ll remember, I’ve had my foot on the
toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the
floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut.
ss? Sealed shut. I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to
figure out what I should do next.

Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I’ll run the hottest water I can
stand and get in - the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away,
right? Wrong.

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than is used to
sterilize surgical equipment, and I sit. Now the only thing worse than
having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and
then glued to the bottom of a tub in scalding hot water. Which, by the
way, does not melt the cold wax.

So now I’m stuck to the tub.

I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty
ischool so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off
skin. It’s never good, to start a conversation with “So my ass and
hoochie are stuck to the tub.” She doesn’t have a trick. She does her
best to suppress laughter.

She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass - “Are we talking
cheek or hole, here?” she asks. She isn’t even trying to hide the
giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me
to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover
story for where the wax actually is. “You know that if we were working
the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack
sealed shut we’d just put them on hold then record the conversation for
everyone we know. You’re going to end up on a radio show or the
internet if you tell them the truth.”

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to
scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the
girly goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super
hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned
to other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving grace that is
the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and
start screaming “It’s working! It’s working!” I get hearty
congratulations from C and we hang up.

I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, the
hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb
by that point anyway. And then I put the box of wax back in my medicine
cabinet.

Never know, I may want to try it again.


Risen

A guy, his Wife and his Mother-in-Law go for a trip to the Holy Land. The Mother-In-Law dies over there.

The Undertaker says: You can have her shipped home for $5000 or have her buried here in the Holy Land for only $150.

The guy replies: We’ll send her home.

The Undertaker then asks why.

The man replies: 2000 years ago a guy died and they buried him here, and 3 days later he rose from the dead. I just can’t take that chance.



I couldnt find George….

where did he go????


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