The other night my friend Sassy Pants called me and before I could greet her with "What up super douche?" she cried, "Go get your cell phone!" I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. Had she finally snapped, murdered her husband and e-mailed me a picture of his head in an over-sized Ziploc (why is that always my first guess--"Hey, guess what I did?" "Murdered your husband!" "Uh, no, I started Weight Watchers.....")?
I found my phone and luckily it had about two minutes of battery left. I saw a text waiting for me, tapped around on the phone until I got it open, and saw what appeared to be a photo of a hairy swamp monster. Upon closer inspection, I exclaimed, "Is that your vagina?!"
"No, it's my thighs..." Sassy Pants whimpered.
"And some of your vagina. What is all over you?" I asked.
"It's wax. I was trying to wax my cooter and now I can't get it off......."
I was transfixed by the picture and the massive amount of goo coating her thighs and vag. "Why is there so much?"
"I used all of it. "
"Why would you do that?!"
"I don't know! Because that's the kind of thing I do." more whimpering.
"Now that you mention it, that's the kind of thing I would do, too. You're just going to have to rip it off. It's like a band aid."
"I can't. Ooh! Ouch!"
"Well, you have to get it off. You can't wear wax panties for the rest of your life."
"I might can. But I'll have to pee in the shower because it shoots out in three directions."
"Oh, no. Your sphincter is blocked."
"So is my bunhole! It went all the way to the back!"
"You got your bohawk involved! What is wrong with you!"
"I was trying to clean up down there. Don't you?"
"Yes, with mild soap and water." I explained.
"What about the hair that grows out past your cooter lines?"
"Sometimes I shave that, other times I think of it as my hair shorts."
"Ow! Oh! Oooh!"
"Yank it!!" I cried because listening to her was killing me.
"I can't do it!"
"O.K., call Sassy Husband in there and have him yank it for you."
"I already showed him and when I asked, 'what am I gonna do abut this' he said, 'All you can do is exercise.' He thought I was talking about my gut waterfall! He didn't even notice the wax!"
"How could he miss it? It's like you're wearing a skirt made of green wax? Asshole."
"Well, I guess you could sit in a hot bath and try to melt it off." I suggested.
"Alright. If I can't get it off at least I won't have to wear underwear since I'll have my wax panties.'
"Now, that's looking on the bright side."
The moral of this story is: if thy torture thy self read thy instructions.