You are Summer Wheatley and you hate cake.
Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
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Monday, October 17, 2005
I hate cakes
You are Summer Wheatley and you hate cake.
Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
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Friday, October 14, 2005
THAT'S IT?!?
Today was the day...the day I left behind the gentle teachings of my small town upbringing. Today I finally joined the ranks of my big-city sisters and got a bikini wax.
For the longest time the reasoning excluded me...why would anyone in their right mind take hot, steaming wax smear it on their pubic region (a region that is home to billions and billions of nerve endings) take some cotton and put that on the hot wax to attach itself and then, literally, RIP the hairs out?! Why?!? Had no one ever heard of a razor and its effectivness when used correctly with shaving cream? This idea made no sense to me. Waxing your eyebrows is one thing...teensy tiny area, but your bikini line? That special area that makes you wonderful? You are supposed to treat it with respect, treat it nicely and in turn it will treat you very, very well.
I suppose you're wondering how a girl with such a defined opinion of bikini waxing gets talked into putting herself through that torture. Well, I'll tell you. I didn't want my roommate to think I was a chicken. We had talked about it. We had discussed it like it was no big deal. When she finally made me pin down a time to go, when she finally made me phone and make an appointment, there was no way I could let her know that I was scared. That I was afraid that it would hurt too much, or that I wasn't entirely comfortable with showing my poonany to some random stranger holding a popsicle stick covered in hot wax!
I was fretting until it was time to go. My stomach was in knots, I felt a little dizzy and I really, really didn't want to walk into that torture den. I didn't care how nice the lighting was or how great it smelled! They weren't going to fool me into a false sense of security! They walk you down a small hallway. They put you in a very small room with paper on the tables. PAPER on the tables!! I had a horrible flash back to my doctors office...I immediately looked for stirrups and the duck lips. You take off your clothes, lie down and blindly trust the woman you met not even 5 minutes ago with your most treasured, sensitive area. As she hovered over me brandishing that dreaded popsicle stick, she tried to make conversation to get me to relax. RELAX?!?! No way was I going to relax!! I was in that horrible situation because of my stupid pride. Once again, felled by pride. As I felt that hot wax being applied to the innocent skin I had nothing left to do but squeeze my eyes closed tight and pray and beg for sanctuary. She asked if I wanted her to countdown…I told her ‘no thanks’, but really I was screaming at her inside, asking her how stupid could she be? Just do it!
She pulled it. She pulled out all of those little tiny hairs that I have been dutifully letting grow. Everything I have been told, everyone who has told me of the excruciating pain, every warning...You all lie! The worst damn part was the anticipation!! I was terrified, I almost let my roommate know what a wimp I am...all because of you spreaders of hateful bikini waxing propaganda! Here is the lesson of my tale: It stings, but it doesn't hurt. If you can get your eyebrows waxed, you can get your bikini line waxed. You're poonany will forgive you and you’ll feel an amazing sense of confidence afterwards…every guy loves me, I’m awesome, Go Me!!
For the longest time the reasoning excluded me...why would anyone in their right mind take hot, steaming wax smear it on their pubic region (a region that is home to billions and billions of nerve endings) take some cotton and put that on the hot wax to attach itself and then, literally, RIP the hairs out?! Why?!? Had no one ever heard of a razor and its effectivness when used correctly with shaving cream? This idea made no sense to me. Waxing your eyebrows is one thing...teensy tiny area, but your bikini line? That special area that makes you wonderful? You are supposed to treat it with respect, treat it nicely and in turn it will treat you very, very well.
I suppose you're wondering how a girl with such a defined opinion of bikini waxing gets talked into putting herself through that torture. Well, I'll tell you. I didn't want my roommate to think I was a chicken. We had talked about it. We had discussed it like it was no big deal. When she finally made me pin down a time to go, when she finally made me phone and make an appointment, there was no way I could let her know that I was scared. That I was afraid that it would hurt too much, or that I wasn't entirely comfortable with showing my poonany to some random stranger holding a popsicle stick covered in hot wax!
I was fretting until it was time to go. My stomach was in knots, I felt a little dizzy and I really, really didn't want to walk into that torture den. I didn't care how nice the lighting was or how great it smelled! They weren't going to fool me into a false sense of security! They walk you down a small hallway. They put you in a very small room with paper on the tables. PAPER on the tables!! I had a horrible flash back to my doctors office...I immediately looked for stirrups and the duck lips. You take off your clothes, lie down and blindly trust the woman you met not even 5 minutes ago with your most treasured, sensitive area. As she hovered over me brandishing that dreaded popsicle stick, she tried to make conversation to get me to relax. RELAX?!?! No way was I going to relax!! I was in that horrible situation because of my stupid pride. Once again, felled by pride. As I felt that hot wax being applied to the innocent skin I had nothing left to do but squeeze my eyes closed tight and pray and beg for sanctuary. She asked if I wanted her to countdown…I told her ‘no thanks’, but really I was screaming at her inside, asking her how stupid could she be? Just do it!
She pulled it. She pulled out all of those little tiny hairs that I have been dutifully letting grow. Everything I have been told, everyone who has told me of the excruciating pain, every warning...You all lie! The worst damn part was the anticipation!! I was terrified, I almost let my roommate know what a wimp I am...all because of you spreaders of hateful bikini waxing propaganda! Here is the lesson of my tale: It stings, but it doesn't hurt. If you can get your eyebrows waxed, you can get your bikini line waxed. You're poonany will forgive you and you’ll feel an amazing sense of confidence afterwards…every guy loves me, I’m awesome, Go Me!!
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Boys Suck!
I would just like to put all my anger out into the universe right now and remind everyone that BOYS SUCK! They all suck so bad! And they all are horrible, but the really really horrible ones are the ones that act like they are your best friends, but then out of nowhere you find out that they really can't be your best friends because they have lied!! Best friends don't lie!! But apparently Boy Best Friends do lie, so to this I say BOYS SUCK! You all are horrible! God...this is why I refuse to get into a relationship!
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