Stuck

So remember that one time when you had a really shit day at work and you were all super stressed out about what to do about that one thing that was a really big deal and so then when you got home you took a Xanax and had a glass of wine and then you started feeling all mellow?

Then remember how you thought it would be a good idea to try and give yourself a "smokey eye" make over using that how to card you got from Sephora that said it was so easy? But maybe because your mom didn't teach you how to do make up or maybe because the "smokey eye" is only achievable by skinny jean wearing fifteen year old boys or maybe because you have to sacrifice baby penguins to the eye liner gods, but WHATEVER it totally didn't work and you just looked like you got punched in the face by Tyler Durden?

Remember how after that you thought it would be a good idea to have another glass of wine, because really, when ISN'T another glass of wine the answer? Then you tried to wash off that "smokey eye" only black eye shadow is no match for mere soap and the more you washed the more you looked like Rob Zombie?

So then after that you started rooting around under the bathroom sink, remember? Because there has to be some of that free gift with purchase eye make up remover in there somewhere, only instead all you could find was three pink foam rollers, a used Hannah Montana band aid and that home waxing kit that you ordered off of TV that time you got stuck hanging out at the United terminal for three days eating nothing but saltines and coffee and watching MSNBC.

Remember how you thought it would be a good idea to try it? Or maybe the wine thought it would be a good idea and totally talked you into because wine is a very fucked up friend and it has a sick sense of humor? But then, since you'd shaved your legs and pits that morning and that super evil eyebrowless waxing lady ripped out your Burt Reynolds on Saturday and so you have nothing to wax and then, you're standing there naked except for your Chuck Taylor's and you realize OMG! I'm going to wear a bathing suit in public in like three weeks, so I should start waxing my bikini line! Yes! Good idea! But, since you've had your hooha waxed before, you know that it hurts like a mother fucker so you take another Xanax and have another glass of wine and then you warm up the wax and smear in on your lady flower and press on the linen strips and

HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD THAT FUCKING HURT.

So then remember how you looked at that linen strip and you're all THE HELL MAN? there wasn't a single freaking pube stuck to it. But the box of wine was all, try again! So you applied more wax and pressed the strip more firmly and then ripped it even faster and

SWEET STRIPED KITTENS THAT FUCKING HURT, with the hurting and the OW OW OW.

And you know what? STILL NOT A FUCKING PUBE removed because apparently you have SUPER PUBES who are growing straight out of your bones and then you get all stubborn because you're a)Irish and b) a little drunk so you decided to try it one more time. Then you drain that box of wine right into that 7-11 cup and keep sipping from the bendy straw and you apply the wax again and rip it off AND IT STILL DOESN'T WORK BECAUSE IT'S GARBAGE, that's why.

Then do you remember how you tried to use that eensy-weensy "skin soothing" wet nap that the evil hairless tv slut said would remove all traces of the wax and leave you porn star smooth? Remember how it DIDN'T FUCKING WORK? So you tried Vaseline and baby oil and nail polish remover and peanut butter and then you're all MOTHER FUCKER. So you pulled your clothes back on and drove all super careful to CVS even though you're pretty sure the bus driver who honked at you was the Terminator and was trying to kill you. Despite the fact that you just broke a shit load of laws you managed waddle into CVS and buy mineral oil only OF COURSE their credit card system was down and you had no cash so you had to pay with the dimes from your ash tray but whatever; you get it and you drive home and you don't even hit that big chicken that was wandering in the roadway.

Remember how after that you go back into the bathroom and take off your jeans and try to take off your Hanes Her Way only they are TOTALLY FUCKING STUCK to your cooch? Like, permanently bonded. Like, the harder you pull the more convinced you are that you're going to wind up on "Real Stories of the ER" and you're going to be that woman and someone will recognize you and you'll get on Oprah only not because she finally acknowledges that you're her best friend but because she's having a show about people who are completely incompetent. So you grab those panties and you give them a yank and every single freaking curly on your lady flower rips straight out by the roots and GREAT CESAR'S GHOST you have to grab the counter to keep from passing out?

Yeah, that sucked.