After I took that shower that I mentioned in this morning’s entry, I wrapped one towel around my bits and then took a second towel off the bar to fluffle my hair. In the process, some towel brushed against my lips.
And that’s when I noticed the coarse hair that was now in my mouth. Correction: coarse kinky black pubic hair.
You just threw up reading that, didn’t you? I’m sorry. If you didn’t, then perhaps you should check to see if you’re a damned robot or something.
For reasons I really don’t want to explain on the internet for God and everyone else to see (because you KNOW that God has got some fat pipe connection, hoo boy), I am reasonably certain that it originated from The Mesopotamia of Esteban. I could say something funny about that or make an incredibly personal revelation, but I’m not going to. You know why? Because there are instances when you know that there is a possibility that a pubic hair will end up in your mouth and you bravely persevere, but you’re prepared for the likelihood. And then when it happens, it still sucks. But half awake, stepping out of the shower soft skinned and lightly perfumed? Let’s just say that it transcends the suck. Let’s just say that it is not the best way to start your day, my friends. Because to say anything else, I may just have to involuntarily gag.
Which reminds me, since it’s all Show and Share day on Dumber than a Box of Rocks, Esteban has had a song of his own invention stuck in his head for two days. He only has one lyric so far and it goes ‘My butt is full of poop’. Perhaps it’s the chorus. I don’t know. So, sometimes he’s sitting there on the sofa, typing away at his laptop, unconsciously softly singing ‘My butt’. Is full of poop! My. Butt. Is. Fuuuuuuuuullll of POOP!’ I for one am waiting breathlessly for the revelation of the second line. What will happen with the poopful butt? What will it do next? The suspense! You have no idea.
I, on the other hand, have had the song ‘Bad Medicine’ stuck in my head. I think it’s by Motley Crue. With the umlauts over the U. Or perhaps a non umlaut band who are now all pool cleaners in Vegas. But apparently bad medicine is what they need. Oh whoa whoa.
I so envy Esteban.
I have had no coffee today. It was a weird day. I ended up wearing a(nother) DKNY t-shirt with Emily the Strange argyle socks that matched my hoodie. I’m already noticing my tendency to be a fashion one-trick pony. Certainly no socks, slept-in hair, and a plain white t-shirt with jeans every day cannot be too far behind.
Tomorrow, I will attempt to get Dave Matthews tickets, except I do so with such a heavy heart. I do not believe that I will get them. I am very suspect of Ticketmiser. I don’t trust them one hair. I think they sell all the good tickets on Ebay for five hundred dollars a piece. They are among the true bastards of the world.
Also, people who make banana shakes with less-than-completely ripe bananas. Because I bought one tonight to have for dinner and it was definitely made with a greenish yellow banana. And that’s just wrong. So now my mouth is all starchy and I’m vaguely irritated that I threw away a $4 shake. It wasn’t a $5 shake because I live in Wisconsin. It’s sad when Pulp Fiction becomes dated, because I know there are $5 shakes out there these days and it ain’t nothing but a thang.
Believe It Or Not Fact #1145: Underripe banana will not eradicate the suspicion that you can still taste pubic hair. Believe it or NOT!
