Wednesday, February 4, 2009

This weekend is what blogs are made of

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!"
Was the sound that came out of my mouth during vag waxing session No. 2 Friday afternoon. Now I know why Steve Carell screamed out "Kelly Clarkson!" during his waxing scene in the 40-Year-Old Virgin. You never know what words/sounds your mouth will form while de-animal pelting.
It had been just long enough for me to forget how FUCKING BAD some of those yanks hurt, but I have enough experience now for it to feel like it took a good seven hours less than it did the first time. However, there is still not enough experience for me to know all of the little things that could go wrong - vag waxing side effects if you will.
Such as the effect this procedure will have on your boyfriend. How he will want to climb up on rooftops and shout "SHE GOT HER COOCHIE WAXED!" or share this EXACT phrase with a chef that he knows while you're enjoying dinner together at a nice restaurant. It's clear that I'm pretty open about...well...everything, so it takes a lot to make me blush. This was one of those times...or it could have just been the quart of red wine...
Or, take for instance this time when my simple act of hopping off the table after my waxing session to grab my pants was met with hysterical laughter from Kate. Confused, I glanced her way to see what was so funny.
Kate (breathless and teary-eyed): "Your butt cheeks are stuck together! BAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!"
I mean, I know things are a little...sticky...er...um...tacky?...uh, not 100 percent free flowing down there afterwards, but I didn't know it was noticeable enough for somebody across the room to see that something was not quite right. I also didn't realize that I have apparently become so comfortable in this situation that I subconsciously moon people. Kate described the sight in her own words:
"It was like your ass cheeks were straining to come apart, but couldn't because they were waxed shut! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"
This then prompted the waxer, Beth Anne, to burst into laughter and ask me if I needed some more oil. Yes, oil, to lube up my waxed shut asshole. Delightful.

******

Saturday everybody and their dogs in Northeast Kansas were frolicking and basking in the tropical rays of a 60 degree day in January at the dog park and in the midst of all of their smiling, laughing and sniffing each other's butts, Andy decided to entertain the crowd with a little slapstick routine.
Since Kansas City temperatures have mirrored those in Antarctica the past couple of weeks, the lake at the park was still frozen solid allowing all the dogs, including my own, to think it was great fun to try to make me have a heart attack by sliding out on the ice to chase balls and sticks thrown by less neurotic dog owners. I'm all, 'fuck, they're going to crash through the ice any second! Then I'm going to have to go save them, then I'll fall through the ice and the person that tries to save me will fall in and we'll all fall in one by one to our deaths in the icy abyss of the Shawnee Mission Dog Park Lake!'
Yeah, nobody fell in, at least when I was there, but I was relieved when Andy decided to run back up onto land. And run he did...head on into a wire fence. He must have been practicing for weeks when I was at work because he made it look so realistic. His head bounced off the fence while his little hind end catapulted into the air. He had everybody on that side of the park cracking up. What a comedian (read: Complete tard ass, who is undeniably MY dog) that little guy is.

Unbeknownst to me, a sense of humor is a quality dogs find important in a mate as well. And, here I thought it was all about Eau de Asshole. Andy's stunt attracted the attention of a German Shorthaired Pointer three times his size with obscenely large testicles. I'm like, 'seriously? Put some pants on that dog. Nobody wants to see that shit.'
And, when I say "attracted the attention of" I mean Big Balls did the incessant "walk hump" behind Andy as he scurried around the park. Andy's no homophobe (please, I taught him right), but he just really likes to be a "top," so when big balled bullies try to force him to be a "bottom," he gets feisty. Andy bit the humper and successfully escaped maybe three times, but about the fourth time the crap ass became immune to Andy biting the shit out of his face and he wouldn't stop. While I'm all for dogs working it out themselves, an audience had started to form and poor little Andy was on the verge of becoming the victim of a gang bang, so I decided to save him from certain butt rapage. Except humper didn't seem to care when I picked Andy up and he continued right on with his thrusting...with me now thrown into the mix.
As I'm trying to keep a hold on a wiggling, fangs out Andy in my arms, fend off a large, aggressively humping dog standing on his hind legs, not step on all the other dogs at my feet, not fall off the rock wall I'm on the edge of all while yelling, "Get the FUCK off me!" and "Jesus Chriiiiiiiiiiist!" The Worst Dog Ever's owner FINALLY came over to gain control of his rapist.
And, as he walked away with Big Balls in tow, he muttered the quietest, most unapologetic "sorry" ever, which forced my inner snotty, nose-in-the-air bitch to come out and respond with, "Perhaps you should think of neutering!" (After telling my dad the story, he said I should have added, after a brief pause, 'and your dog too!' Damn, if only my inner bitch were more witty.)
Do we need to host classes on dog park etiquette? I understand that dogs will be dogs, which includes humping, but if your dog repeatedly ass rapes my dog, then jizzes on my leg, perhaps it's a sign he's not compatible with off-leash dog parks. And, in the words of Kate: "If your dog is a big dangly-balled humper, you should keep him on a leash."
On a side note: If you give me this reason for not neutering your dog: "I'm going to stud him out," I will punch you in the mouth. No you're not. Stop telling yourself that because you're never actually going to do it. I know men that don't neuter their dogs (especially hunting dogs because it's always men) want to live vicariously through them by making them man hos, but that's pathetic and will only hurt you in your real life. I'd be more attracted to you if you played "Dungeons and Dragons" in your mom's basement rather than hunted with your huge testicled Labrador or whatever it may be. There are far too many unwanted mutts in shelters (which are better anyway) and far too many breeders and "studs" out there already. You don't need to be cool and join the club. Your dog can still hunt ball-less, I promise.
Plus, even if you did pimp out your dog it would backfire on you because, lets face it, your dog sucks. He's a big dangly-balled humper and nobody likes him. Shit, you don't even like him, so what makes you think it's a good idea to allow him to reproduce? His offspring are most likely going to suck too.
So, in conclusion, ADOPT a dog or, if you must drop several hundreds of unnecessary dollars on a crappy hunting dog or a bullshit foo-foo dog for that matter, at least neuter/spay them if only to ensure that I will be less of a raging bitch to you. Thank you.

I never really quite understood why it was such an insult to call a man a dog. Now I know...first hand...and it's so true.

2 comments:

Kate said...

Damnit, I'm funny! So is your sticky butt, by the way - I totally got a good laugh out of that visual image yet again :)

thatsilverlining said...

Your posts almost always make me laugh out loud. And I like laughing, so that rocks.

We didn't fix Keenan at first in hopes of creating a cute little boxer family, but after we got a second boxer...we thought better of it. Since Keenan has been fixed, I have been asked 4 times if he can be a "stud". I have decided that I should collect a stud fee from retards who can't tell that my dog doesn't have balls and let him hump away. Good luck, dumbass!

 

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