5:58:19 PM EDT
Feeling Happy
Hearing Grand Theft Auto IV ... Gotta love the freaking XBOX!
NEW JOURNAL... AGAIN
http://notquitesuzyhomemaker.blogspot.com/
New Life.. New Journal..
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angcrewswife
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11:46:03 AM EDT
Feeling Happy
Hearing Alvin and the Chipmunks
Wow I figured it out!!
Wow I finally figured out how to access this thing without AOL. Soo much has happened since I last wrote.
Im pregnant, expecting baby number 3 in January. New house, New Car, same boyfriend Im pretty sure I wrote about him before.
My divorce is final, THANK GOD! True colors and responsibilities have been shown and I will leave it at that.
Things are going really well here. Im gonna look for some links and catch up if I can find em..
Ta Ta!
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angcrewswife
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5:30:31 PM EST
Feeling Happy
Hearing Celebrity Rehab -turning into reality tv junky-
Hmmm Sunday?
I was talking to a LONG TIME online friend of mine just a bit ago.. she's an email pack rat and decided to remind me of the old emails we sent back and forth... Hehehe
A couple of funnies =) Enjoy....
This is a "heads up" to those friends who haven't experienced it
yet and an explanation to those friends and family who have. Most of you
have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen
while he was passed out. Well, read on. While that was an "urban legend,"
this one is not. It's happening every day.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night of August 3rd a few
years ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up
with someone else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked
oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been
wholly, if imperfectly, mine for years. Whose thighs were these? What
happened to mine?
I spent the entire summer looking for them. I searched, in vain, at
pools and beaches, anywhere I might find female limbs exposed. I became
obsessed. I had nightmares filled with cellulite and flesh that turns to
bumps in the night. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to
living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.
Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again. My
butt was next. I knew it was the same gang because they took pains to
match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower
than the original) to the thighs they had stuck me with earlier.
Now my rear complimented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed
that long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was 2 years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One
morning while fixing my hair, I watched, horrified but fascinated, as
the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the
hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced,
cleverly and fiendishly, one section at a time.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age was supposed to creep up,
unnoticed and intangible, something like maturity. I was being attacked,
repeatedly and without warning.
In the end, in deepening despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could
they to to me next? My eyes began to remind people that they needed a
new pair of Hush Puppies. My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the
Thanksgiving turkey it now reminded me of.
That's why I've decided to tell my story; I can't take on the
medical profession by myself. Women of America, wake up and smell the
coffee!
That isn't really "plastic" those surgeons are using. You know
where they're getting those replacement parts, don't you?
The next time you suspect someone has had a face "lifted," look
again! Was it lifted from you? Check out those tummy tucks and buttocks
raisings. Look familiar? Are those your eyelids on that movie star? I
think I finally may have found my thighs...and I hope that Cindy Crawford
paid a really good price for them!
This is NOT a hoax! This is happening to women in every town every
night. Warn all your friends.
PS I feel much better knowing this is happening, I thought I was
just getting old! I must say that last year I thought someone had stolen
my breasts. I was lying in bed and they were gone, as I sprang from my
bed I was relieved to see that they were just hiding in my pajama
bottoms. After reading this, I will keep them hidden in my waistband.
The wax incident...
Hair Removal....
This is funny. (I don't have a clue as to who wrote this, but....WHAT A HOOT!) All hair removal methods have tricked women with
their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. Read on.........
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring
painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet."
So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just
rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you
pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA
THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my
genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my
thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!
OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter
of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting
championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha
and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip)
I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is
spinning and spotted.
I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to
normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want
to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it.
Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip...it's not! I
touch. I am touching wax.
I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next
BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop.
My head may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax?
Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits
and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
*WRONG!!!!!!!*
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the
bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced
me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation
starter "So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants
to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?"
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to trying to
scrape the wax off with a razor . Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to
the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major
hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the
dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!!
It works !!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and
then notice to my grief anddespair...THE HAIR IS STILL HERE.......ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color......
Written by
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