Dearest bikini waxer,
I appreciate that you make an effort at small talk to make me feel that tiny bit more comfortable while I'm naked from the waist and you're tearing hair from my delicates.
Sure, a little chit chat can certainly alleviate the atmosphere to some extent. After all, it hardly feels natural having a stranger spreading hot hot burning hot wax all around the place. Boyfriends dont get that personal. A little talk about weather and what you did this weekend helps me relax. But bikini waxer, today you failed in a big way.
I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR YOUR CONSPIRACY THEORIES ABOUT THE FREEMASONS WHILE YOU'RE TOUCHING MY VAGINA. Please, please, keep the crazy to yourself until my pants are back on and money has changed hands.
Also, the wax was too hot.
MY VAGINA AND I ARE SCARED OF YOU.
Best regards,
Charlotte
Monday, 5 October 2009
I bet she reads Dan Brown
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2 people think they're smarter than me:
It wouldn't seem like a bikini wax is a good time to let the crazy out of the bottle.
What's frightening though is that is probably just the tip of the iceberg.
If I had a vagina, it'd be scared of that bitch too.
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