Dumification

M: "Aren't Dodo's like the national bird of Canada or something?"

Me: "uh, no."

M: "Oh. That's right. Canada's flag has a leaf so they don't have a national bird"

Me: SIGH.

Another Reason California Sucks

Seriously, who makes a law like this?

"California law prohibits a woman from driving a car while dressed in a housecoat. "

Are you kidding me? How the hell else are you supposed to dress when driving that early morning carpool?

Maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer this

to this

Excuses

Charles Dickens always slept facing north, in an effort to battle insomnia - when he travelled, he would carry a compass with him and move his bed around so it was correctly aligned. He also liked to face north while writing, believing it aided his creativity.

I am going to use the "north facing rule" to explain why this blog sucks. My bed faces south and my desk faces west.

What does a clown puking rainbows have to do with the fact that Vitamin Z makes it so that I care about nothing beyond not drooling (noticably, anyway) on myself? Nothing.

You know what also has nothing to do with anything? This

neither does this

or this

or this

But just think, the 45 seconds you spent here you could have spent cleaning the toilets. And so really, by posting nonsense that you have to scroll through before you realize that I actually DON'T have a point and in fact am merely typing because Bejeweled Blitz is on the fritz, noone is twittering anything that needs my reply and there is no one in the office for me to order about, I've saved you from hard labor.

You're welcome.

Holy Roller

I used to work in a large call center where dozens of people sat around me. So of course I spent most days eavesdropping on other peoples conversations.

The lady that sat behind me we nicknamed "The Churchlady" not because she was at all like the SNL character, but rather because almost every story she told managed to wind it's way to either a sermon she'd heard or something someone at church had experienced. This, despite the fact that she had two children, one of whom was the result of an affair and the other was the child of a man in prison for running a drug ring out of a day care.

One day, her neighbor BigHair loudly lamented her three year olds habit of PEEING ON THE WALL and so the Churchlady began to advise her on ways to discipline.



"You see" The Churchlady explained "The more you punish them, the more they act out. You have to guide your children with love"

This seemed like some pretty namby pamby advice, but whatever, so BigHair agreed that maybe she'd try praising the Sprinkler for what he did well in hopes that he'd stop being naughty.

Of course, several days later Sprinkler hosed not just the wall but also the TV. BigHair, though admitting it wasn't the best course of action admitted that she lost her temper and smacked his little pecker. Churchlady was aghast!

"Oh! You should NEVER smack your children! Hands are for loving! A child should remember that their mothers hands always reached out with a gentle touch. They should only think of their parents hands as having wiped away tears and embracing them in hugs. You should never, ever, slap a child! Think of the message that sends them! No, there is no excuse for you raising a hand to a child. That's why when my kids act out I understand that they need comfort! They need to understand what they've done wrong, so I take them aside and then I WHOOP THEM WITH A WOODEN SPOON".




Makes sense to me.

Wordless Wednesday: Inch Worm

As you wish

When I was about eleven my mom went back to graduate school and money was fairly tight. When my birthday came around there wasn't a lot of money for presents, so instead, that morning at breakfast my mom declared that as my gift I could do and eat whatever I wanted.

So we ate ice cream sandwiches for breakfast and corn on the cob and tuna sandwiches for dinner before my dad took my two besties and I ice skating where we got hot chocolate from the snack counter and came home to cookie monster cupcakes with frosting so blue your teeth were stained for the next three days.

I'm sure I must have also gotten presents, though I can't recall what they were. I remember though, is that no matter how odd the request (cookie monster cupcakes? For a kid with a cosmo subscription? LOL) my mom said "sure".

As M has grown up, I've tried to continue the tradition. Some birthdays have meant that we rode roller coasters and ate nothing but food from 7-11 and others have meant hoards of little girls swarming from every corner of my house. Mostly though, it's been dinner and a movie and shopping for something that I usually would say no to.

Yesterday, she got up before I left for work and ate cherry ice cream topped with fresh cherries for breakfast. For lunch she dove into the Veggie Straws and by the time I got home she'd spent ALL DAY on the phone while IMing and also texting. Then we loaded up into the car and headed to the movies to see UP. (side note, WTF, Disney? Ellie dies? In the first ten minutes? The hell? So sweet and heartbreaking, not a kids movie really.) Then we went to Fudruckers Hamburger Bar for dinner. Because it has a cheese fountain.

before heading to Baskin Robbins because miss "PLEASE CAN I GO TO A RAVE? PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE?" wanted a clown cone. Too bad they were out.

she consoled herself with pistachio ice cream over a scoop of birthday cake flavored topped with Kissables and rainbow sprinkles.

And then? She went home and moaned that her belly ached.

I'm calling this birthday a win.

Right or Wrong?

Husband and I had a...let's call it a disagreement...about this and I'm still annoyed, because OBVIOUSLY I am correct and he's an ass. But I'll let y'all weigh in, just in case I'm off my tree here.

It happens.

Scene:

BabyMama is in the kitchen making dinner. Smooth is upstairs playing video games. BigSister is sitting on the couch and baby Gigi is in her Bumbo chair on the coffee table about a foot away from BigSister (she's ten)

Situation:

Gigi has figured out how to make her arms and legs work and wiggles free of her Bumbo (first time she's ever done so) and topples off the table. BigSister sees her escape (at her own admission) and makes no move to catch her (also, her own admission) and when Gigi is lying on the floor screaming her head off, rather than picking her up says, filled with wonder 'Sissy fell' as BabyMama sprints the 10 feet to the couch, climbs over it and snatches baby up.

Result:

Gigi is fine, but BabyMama is annoyed with BigSister for being a foot away and not only not preventing her from falling, but also doing nothing once she's fallen.

Conflict:

I'm ALL on BabyMama's side here. At ten, you should be old enough and responsible enough that when asked specifically to do something (keep an eye on the baby, in this case) that you should be capable of doing so. She wasn't left alone with the baby and was close enough that doing ANYTHING could have prevented the fall.

HSB says it's BabyMama's fault. Why? Because he's fucking crazy, that's why. Yes, she's the adult, but let's be realistic here, she left baby in a (presumed) safe place with an older child to watch her while she was FRYING FOOD ten feet away.

I say she was reasonable to do so, he says she's neglectful.

What say you?

(PS. No, Gigi isn't allowed to sit on the table anymore)

Seriously

Why does milk, when poured into a glass and left in the fridge, get colder than when in the carton?






Inquiring minds want to know!

Worst.Blog.Ever.

I was going to blog a video of my child (you know, the Window Licker?) dancing around a singing as she attempted to see exactly how truthful Vince was being when he said the ShamWow! would soak up ten times it's weight in water, but I was laughing too hard. Because honestly? Who does that? First off who buys ShamWow's? (For the record it was my husband) and secondly who gets THAT excited by the prospect of an As Seen On TV product? But I was laughing far too hard and she heard me and was all "What? What's so funny?" and all I could do was gasp out "Vinnnnccceeee" and then she looked at me like *I* was the crazy one.



So instead, I bring you this gem. Especially timely given my quest for a new tattoo. I think I'll get this one.





If you like that one you should see the rest over at ugliesttattoos.com

Ouiser Says

I do not want to hear a fourteen year old boy, who sounds like a ten year old girl, singing about "eternal love" and "sharing a life". Seriously. What the fuck? Kids at that age still need to be told to brush their teeth! He doesn't even need to shave! What does he know about eternal anything?

Oh, wait. To a teenager, FOREVER, is like, how long it like takes to like down load a song from iTunes. So I guess "Eternal Love" would end some times next Thursday during third hour math.

Never mind.

Good Fences

(I was going to post about Disneyland, but Blogger was down yesterday and I left my camera at home today and you really need to see the pictures, because otherwise, how is it a travel blog? Right? Right.)

Yesterday as I was pulling out of my driveway I spotted my mailman coming around the corner and decided to wait for him. We've had the same mail man for at least eight years and he and I chat from time to time about the weather, the amount of junk mail I get, the fact the neighbors insist on parking directly in front of their mailbox etc. Basically the kind of small talk that you have with people you know nothing about.

As he hands me my mail yesterday he says to me "Hey, I see that you refinanced your house! How did you manage that in this economy?" and I'm like wait, what the hell? I didn't refinance? then I remembered that our mortgage company went tits up and our statements now come from another company. And he noticed. So I explained it to him, we commiserated about the shitty housing market and then he asked about J's shooting hobby, wondered if I still was selling costumes and did M like her out of state camp and THEN I was all? WTF?

I mean, I get that my garbage man knows a lot about me. After all, the clinking of my empty wine bottles against the Zoloft bottles IS a very distinct sound. But it never occurred to me that my mailman was actually paying attention to what he delivers me. He even commented on the amount of ammunition components that my husband orders and how he knew which houses he'd run to in the event of an emergency!

How freaking creepy stalkerish is that? And yet, think of the GOSSIP I can get about the neighbors! I'm totally going to bake him some cookies. Because Mama loves her some gossip....

Maybe it's me?

I'm starting to think that I am the reason that those around me are...special...yes, let's go with that.

In addition to M, who possibly shouldn't be allowed out with out a reflective sweater I also have dogs that should probably be wearing helmets.

We have three dog dishes but despite the fact that each dog gets exactly the same food and exactly the same amount of said food they practically kill themselves to eat out of one particular dish.

Seriously, what the hell is so special about that dish? Is it that it's smaller? Greener? Made from plastic derived from the horse hooves and crack? What?

Or, maybe it's just that dogs are toddlers. They eat all the time, poop everywhere, whine for no reason and get up at weird hours of the night just to stare at you until you wake up thinking that Freddy Kruger is standing at the end of your bed ready to kill you until you're all "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT? It's Three Fucking A.M. GO LAY DOWN" but of course, once they huff off to their bed, can YOU get back to sleep? No, of course not.

Because dogs are evil.

See?

Evil.

Thank you, come again.

I swear to you guys that I never beat my kid about the head. I mean, sure, she's brain damaged, but that was totally not my fault. And anyway, I think the fact that she's "special" has less to do with getting her head slammed through a window and more to do with the fact that she's blond.

I could seriously have an entire blog about the retarded shit that M says. But then y'all would think that I let her eat a bowl of Lead n' Paint Flakes for breakfast and then wash it down with a glass of stupid.

But sometimes, OMG, sometimes she says some things that make me sit back and regret that I huffed gas fumes while I was pregnant.

Last night as we sat watching Paris Hilton's My New BFF she turns to me with deep concern and complete seriousness and says

"Can you get mittens with out the little thumby thingy? You know, like for people who don't have thumbs or whatever?"

Completely desensitized to such completely idiotic questions I replied

"Yeah, they're called SOCKS"

before thinking that HOLY SHIT, My kid is going to grow up to be a Wal-Mart greeter.

Wordless Wednesday

I know you chickens can caption this, so leave your best one in the comments!

Bad Whitey

OMG, y'all. I am going to Color Blind-We shall overcome-One Love hell. Which is different from Mormon hell, Mom hell, wife hell and all of the other deservedly hot after worlds no doubt holding a place for me.

M has two best friends. They are both named Casey*. One Casey is of Hispanic/Caucasian descent and the other is African American. Because the kids are all out of school M and I have some version of the following conversation about once a day

M:Cn I go 2 Csy hse?

Me: Did you do your chores?

M: uh, letz say yes

Me: Then you can.

Me: Wait. Which Casey?

M: Casey Goodman

Me: Is that Black Casey or Mexican Casey?

SEE? See what I did just there? I broke every rule we ever learned at those yearly diversity assemblies where there were skits about how we are all the same on the inside.

But on the other hand, what the hell else am I supposed to do? Call one brunette Casey? Because they're both brunettes. Or maybe Skinny Casey? Because let's be honest, that makes the other one Fat Casey and that's really not any better. Also unacceptable is Smart Casey and Pretty Casey, because they are both great students and pretty girls.

So what am I supposed to do?

Help me out here, peeps. Is it really that bad to call one Black Casey and the other Mexican Casey? I mean, it's not like they don't KNOW they are either black or Mexican. And it's not like I mean it in a disparaging way, more like I would say "Red Haired Casey" or "Boy Casey" were one a ginger kid and the other a man.

Assuage my middle class suburban white guilt here!

*they are not really named Casey.

Ouiser Says

STAND UP STRAIGHT. Seriously. Stop slouching. It makes you look slovenly. It makes you look unintelligent. It makes you look like PARIS SLUTPANTS HILTON.

Also,

STOP SAYING "HUH" when you need to convey that you haven't heard or possibly haven't understood what was said. Try "excuse me" or "I'm sorry?" or perhaps, even, "can you repeat that?" "HUH" is one of the most annoying sounds that I have ever heard. It trumps the using of acronyms as words. Like ASAP pronounced "ay-sap". Stop it.

Furthermore,

NO MORE TEXT SPEAK when you're not texting. Use punctuation. Use capitals and for heaven's sake stop spelling "come" as in "come here" like "cum" as in, well, cum.

See?

NOT OKAY.

Kiki Titsling

PHEW. It's the last review day. I don't know how people do this all the time. Oh right. They get paid. Whereas *I* do it for the good of humanity. Because I am selfless and awesome like that.

Today, the final review isn't for His & Hers KY like Lorrie wanted, nor is it for Kreg's chainsaws or Eric condoms (with vibrating ring or otherwise). No, it's all about my favorite subject.

My boobs.

As you know, ladies, when you lose weight, you lose the girls.

Excuse me while I go sob quietly in the corner.

Ok, I'm back.

It's traumatizing enough to have to shop for new jeans (thank you Goodwill dollar day for my brand new with tags Old Navy Sweetheart jeans for $1 !) and it's even MORE upsetting to have to buy a new swim suit (thank you Mum for my Juicy Couture!) but to have to find new bra's.....I shudder.

All girls know about the maladies of bad bra's. Quatro-boob, shelf boob, loaf boob, elbow boob, cone boob, granny boob...need I go on? Having a bad bra on makes your old outfit...hell, your whole out look on LIFE just a little less rosy.

Previously, I was wearing a collection of very expensive bra's from Lane Bryant. And by very expensive I mean $60 EACH. I had seven. Each big enough to wear as a hat.

Now? Not so much.

LE SIGH.

So, I bequeathed my beautiful collection of barely worn bra's to my similarly big busted sister in law and started searching for less costly replacements. Because I have a sad, sinking feeling that the twins will be far smaller before I'm done.

While I was at Wal-Mart I found a few decent options.

Option A

This bra is by a brand called "Sweet Nothings" and retails for around $12. It fits decently, though the cups are weirdly pointy when you are shirtless when you are fully dressed, it's not too bad. It was fairly comfortable. My only problem was it rode up a bit during the day. Probably because to get cups that fit I went up a band size.

Cost: $12.88

Worth: $10

Verdict: Not a bad choice in a pinch.

Option B

This bra is by Fruit Of the Loom and is called the "Amazingly Comfortable Seemless Underwire"

OMG. It IS amazingly comfortable. Almost like wearing nothing at all. Which is about how much support you're getting. Still, it gives good, rounded shape, doesn't ride up, doesn't poke or pinch, and seems to hold everything up. Just don't jump around. Or run. You'll wind up with a black eye.

If, like me, you sleep in a bra, this one is perfect. One caveat, the cup sizes run large due to the stretchiness of the fabric, so buy your regular band size and try one cup size down for a good fit.

The color options were limited to black, white, pink and heather grey, but I can't imagine why you'd really need anything else.

Cost: $7

Worth: $7

Verdict: Perfect for low impact days. Like laying around the house reading a novel and eating Pirate's Booty cheddar popcorn

Of course, despite having found passable inexpensive options, I still just wasn't happy. I need my girls to look GOOD. Amazing. Traffic Stopping.

While I was waiting for M to wander to the mall to pick up the teeshirt I bought her (Jeff Hardy, because she's freakin' OBSESSED with Pro-"Wrestling" at the moment) I found myself at Victoria's Secret. A place I haven't shopped in, on, practically 20 years. They just didn't carry the size they need.

Now that I have little boobies (Down to a DD....sob) I pawed through the sale bin and was please to find some of the Bio Fit bra's that my cousin Bunny was raving about the other day when I lamented on FB that I need new tit slings. And it was on sale. Less than half of it's listed $50. Since the color's I found in my size matched my new panties (important in case you're in an accident) I bought one.

First off, you do not, apparently have to make this face

For your girls to look good. Which is important, because wandering around looking like a stoned zombie is probably going to get you some funny looks. That said, can I just get a halleluja from the audience?

This bra is AMAZING. So comfortable, perfect shape, doesn't ride, doesn't pinch, doesn't bunch or gap or make your boobs pointy.

Cost: $50 retail, currently selected colors on sale for about $23, annual sale starts 6/16

Worth: $23, 982.16 Seriously.

Verdict: Save your pennies. Buy one beautiful bra instead of several cheap ones!

Whew.

I'm done. Back to blogging about nothing.

Not Picasso

This blogging about actual STUFF is WAY harder than just posting pictures of my boobs and making disparaging comments about other peoples outfits.

But I already spent the money and in this economy that means that I've got no choice but to finish this week of blog reviews

(SIDE NOTE: Dear Tammyatvenus, HI! We love your product and we LOVE coupons! Tell your boss! Luvyoursmoothleggedguts, Thystle & the other weeds)

Anyhoodle, after that shameless bit of begging, (what, like you don't want some coupons for Venus razors? Yes, you do.) I will first address Miss Lovely BJ's question regarding the Bumpit I reviewed yesterday. It was very comfortable. In fact, I pretty much forgot it was there until my dog launched himself over the back of the couch and landed square on my head, spilling my beer and lodging the gripping spikes of the Bumpit into my brain.

Also, no thanks to Dr. Dollar Store Crabgrass, my $5.96 room freshener is still making things smell lovely. Even though I can't open a window, because A) It's 110* outside and B) my office doesn't HAVE windows, Miss Lorrie "open a window" Veasey.

Which brings us to today's review of Sally Hansen's Nail Design Pens!

I have to tell you this was probably the product I was most hoping would turn out to be awesome. I get my nails done every other weekend or so and at about $15 for a manicure (including tip), I was thinking I could save myself some serious cash. Enough cash to maybe buy some panties that aren't so large they slide off my butt and puddle recklessly about my knees much like the panties of a Scottsdale cheerleader.

But I digress. The insert shows you this

Super cute, right?

I'm fairly crafty and despite the fact that I'm currently begging anyone with drawing talent to help me design my new tattoo, I like to believe that I'm also somewhat artistic.

Clearly, Sally Hansen and I don't have the same ideas.

First off, the pens are about twice the price of regular bottles of nail polish at $7-$9 depending on where you buy them.

Secondly, the "paint" they used is very thin and watery. Not a nail polish consistency at all. On the plus side, it's also removable with plain water. As long as you only put it on a nail with that's been given a bottom coat. Don't get in on your skin, because even with nail polish remover the edges of my fingers remain tinted black from my attempt at giving myself a funky black tipped french manicure.

Which brings me to my last issue....my left hand? Looked great. My right hand? Not so much.

Possibly this is something that could be worked around, like by hypnotism, for example. Or maybe getting someone else do do them for me.

But if I'm going to get someone else to do my nails, why wouldn't I just cough up the cash and enjoy the massage, wax dipping and full on pampering involved in my salon manicure?

Now, to be fair, I didn't try them on my toes, so that might be an option.

I did manage to accomplish some sassy polka dots with relative ease. But I'm not 14, so they looked a little silly.

Cost: $7

Worth: $3

Verdict: eh. Not in love.- if you can get them on sale or are ambidextrous or even if you have little girls who like their nails done, I would cautiously say go for it

Instead:

Two options. If you have a Beauty Supply place handy (Such as Sally Beauty Supply) you can pick up "professional" nail design nail polishes like these

With the teeny little brush for around $2. Yes, should you mess up, you'd need to use polish remover to re-do the whole nail, but the results look vastly more professional. My Sally had seven or eight colors.

OR

Just raid your desk drawer for Sharpie Markers. Seriously. The silver and other metallic colors worked the best, although the regular black wasn't too bad. You'll want to paint a base coat and be sure to seal it with a clear top coat. Yes, it does seem a little seventh grade in the ghetto, but seriously, it worked perfectly!

Big Hair

I like big hair. Sadly, I don't have the sort of hair that lends itself to big hair. I have more the sort of hair that girls of the 70's dreamed about. Flat, stick straight, BORING hair. Blah.

The 80's, being my formative years have forever instilled on my brain that the bigger the hair, the sexier it is, so when the trend toward "bumped" or "slightly bee hived" hair came in I was all over it.

Only, my hair? NOT ON THE SAME PAGE. As a general rule my smooth bob resists all manner of teasing, fluffing, blowing out, ratting...well you got the idea.

So when I saw THESE I nearly swooned in the aisle

FINALLY I could have the big hair of my dreams!

The kit came with a "medium" a "tall" and a "small" sized insert. The small is designed for the small, over the forehead "model pouffe" style hair do. No need for that as my bangs manage to achieve that bit of craziness on it's own.

The directions call for you to part your hair just over your ears and then flip the front section forward and tease the base. Um..ok. I'm not very handy, but it comes with a little rat tail comb, so I broke out my bottle of Big Sexy and ratted it up.

My hair stood totally, straight up, sideways faux hawk style. It was sexy. Only. Not.

So I stuck the medium sized insert behind the part and smoothed the front hair over it. Because my hair is fairly short, it made me look like less like Bardot and more like a Cone head. Unwilling to give up, I pinned up the sides, and voila! CUTE HAIR! In under 5 minutes! AND on my first shot.

This is how their models look once teased to perfection

and this is how mine came out.

Not bad, right?

Cost: $9.99

Worth: $9.99

Verdict: If you love big hair and are hair-talent challenged or you know, lazy like me, well worth the $10

Smell Ya Later

My Gram, who keeps a spotless house, once told me that the easiest way to fake a clean house is to make sure that it smells good.


And that all your guests wear blindfolds.


I kid, I kid. But really. Scent is one of our strongest senses and it effects all other senses. If you had a the tastiest cupcake imaginable in front of you and the whole room smells like dog shit, that cup cake would be far less appetizing than if the whole room smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, wouldn't it?


Having three dogs, a teenager with questionable personal habits and a husband means that my house doesn't always smell...let's call it fresh. Add to that a dog that gets violently, explosively ill when Plug In room fresheners are used and I'm left with either the Renuzit plastic gel pop-up thingies or candles to bring back the calming fresh scent that I crave. Only the Renuzit thingies are ugly and candles + dogs with tails = insurance claims.


So when I say these guys





at Walmart for $5.96 I decided to give it a shot.


I bought two scents, Cranberry-Mandarin and Lilac. The cranberry Mandarin smells amazing. Fresh and crisp. I put it in my office at work and every time I open my office door the scent wafts out. It's not over powering and unlike many room fresheners it doesn't give me a headache.


The lilac doesn't smell very lilac-y but it does smell lovely. I put that one in my bedroom. Maybe because the door is usually open and the room is fairly large, the scent isn't very noticeable. It could also just be the nature of that particular scent. Still, the room does smell nice. I would recommend for a large room that you get two though.


Cost: $5.96



Worth: $5.96


Verdict: I will definitely buy these again! Much cheaper than the Glade version (which cost about $9) and way, way cheaper than the fancy ones at the mall (upwards of $10) they deliver a nice, long lasting fragrance. The "food" scents that I normally prefer like vanilla and cinnamon seemed a bit chemically, but the orange and cranberry Mandarin are nice. Plus the bottle & reed look is way prettier than a gray plastic cone.

Like Buttah

Hiya Muffins!

You know how some bloggers get paid to do product reviews and in addition to the glamorous life as a shill-woman they also get cash and free product? Well, I'm not that girl. Which means that when I review products (and that's what we're doing this week for lack of anything else to blog about) you know you're getting my honest opinion.

So, in the interest of keeping you all better informed and helping to stimulate the economy, I went out and spent $50 on crap that I'd seen on TV.

For starters, those of you who are hairy like me and my twin sister Julia Roberts

Understand the pursuit of painless, long lasting, easy hair removal.

So after seeing this product touted all over TV as being simple AND effective, I ponied up the $10

The kit comes with both small and large removal pads, the small being for areas like your face and the larger for arms and legs.

Reading the directions, it stated that the product was most effective on hair a 1/4" or shorter, so the lying commercial directors who show the removal of full length back hair are already taking liberties. I tried it on my not terribly hairy forearms and it did nothing. Literally, not a single hair was removed.

So I figured, what the hell, we'll follow the directions and using the directed three counterclockwise and three clockwise circular removal pattern sanded away at my knee. Because that's what this is, literally. Fine grade sand paper. Sure, the hairs felt smoother, but they certainly didn't GO anywhere. I did develop a nice layer of finely ground skin cells though which disguised my tree trunks by burying the hair in exfoliated dust. TRES SEXY, let me tell you. Once I wiped my legs with a damp washrag, the hair, while sanded to a smooth edge was still clearly visible.

Also? It took FOREVER. I did one leg and it took like 15 minutes. I could have shaved off all my body hair in that time frame.

Cost: $9.99

Worth: $0

Verdict: Don't waste your time and money

Instead:

These are amazing! Five blades, built in shave gel, replaceable heads.

I bought a 12 pack with a "free" handle and shower caddy for $24 at Costco. Yes, they're a bit expensive, but being able to rub your legs together with out having crickets come swarming to the mating call you're broadcasting makes it well worth it!