Leahtard

Not actually a tard.

Archive for the ‘Adult’ Category

For the sake of beauty!

Posted by leahtard on October 19, 2007

Now I have to say I did not wright this and I do not know who did, but it was e-mailed to me the other day and I had to put it here because is was so funny I almost peed myself.

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of
easy, painless removal – The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and
now…the wax.

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. It’s 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 vagina and stretching down to the
inside of my butt cheek. Yes, it was a long strip. I inhale deeply
and
brace myself………RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!…. OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the
strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is
swirly
and spotted. I think I may pass out………..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. I touch. I am
touching
wax. CRAP!

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
up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot
down. DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina?
Sealed
shut! Butt?? 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
cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! Thank God I brought my cell
phone with me 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 who-ha are glue 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
who-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 scraping
the
wax off with a razor . Nothing feels better then 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 oil 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!!
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 and despair….THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….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……

Posted in Adult, life | 4 Comments »

Warm Muffin.

Posted by leahtard on September 10, 2007

Once a month or so my girlfriend Tracy and I go for Sushi, this is our time to get out with out the kids and have some adult time, (though she workes and gets a significant more of it than me.) On these evenings I sometimes get dressed up, (remember this is mommy dress up, not to be confused with hootchie dress up which is what I use to do.)

I figured I was dressed quite nice, I had put a little extra effort into my appearance that night and it looked like it was paying off. I had started to notice I was getting a number of appreciative stares from the men and jealous ones from the women. I was wearing my favorite heeled black boots a nice pair of dark blue jeans, a black sweater, and my favorite, a lovely super long brown scarf, wrapped around my neck in the way that was most fashionable that winter.

Of course me being me, I was quite please with how cute I looked and impressed that in my old age, (33) and even with a “little” extra weight I still had “it”. Now if you know me then you might realize that this attention as it were would put a little more swing in my hips, pop my chest out a bit and inch my head up a little higher. (In my brain I am imagining my glory days when men would fall at my feet and offer to marry me. When I was hard pressed to find a girl hotter than me. I was quite certain the only reason I had not been discovered was because I am practically a midget at 5 foot 4.)

These are the things I am doing and thinking as I walk through the mall. As we get closer to the restaurant I start to feel quite warm. Warm in a way I have never felt before….. warm down below…… you know down south…… so warm in fact that I have almost forgot how cute I was and am thinking about how one gets quite so, ummmm cozy in that area. Soon we reach the restaurant and as I unload my shopping onto the near by chair I realize that both ends of my scarf had got caught up between my legs. The wool scarf itself is wrapped around my neck, cutting down between my boobs only to be tucked in quite firmly between my legs and the tails and are splayed around the back of my bum like a great giant hairy brown spider coming out for a peek.

Gone are all my dreams of being a femme fatal. I am going to have to live with the fact that all I have is a really warm muffin.

Posted in Adult, life | 6 Comments »

I can tell someones personality by the way they sound when they screw!

Posted by leahtard on September 3, 2007

Oooooooooooooooooh, I knew that would get your attention!

The other night I was lying in bed and I had a thought. I did not like my electrician, (the one doing my basement development.) From the moment he came into my house he was rude. I tried a little small talk, then coffee, finally I offered him homemade cookies… And if you know me at all you know I make a kick ass cookie! Nothing made him happy. Then for the next three days I had to listen to him drill holes, pound nails and hammer. Each time feeling as though this man should not be in my house – I don’t like him. But I needed a job done so instead of listening to his rude screwing we packed up the kids everyday and left my house.

The bad screw

Any way I digress, back to the screwing. Here are my thoughts. I knew very shortly after our “electrician”, started his job that he was a ass. Now you might want to ask me how. Well, I will tell you and it is because of the way he screws! NOT ME, I AM HAPPILY MARRIED. But the way he drives a screw into the framing, and the way he hammers and the way he drilled a hole or maybe the way he skulked around my basement like some misery chick, with black nail polish and a bad dye job!

The happy screw

Soon I began to think of Cory and his dad Gord Marshmann our General Contractor and how I enjoyed having them in my home. It is not uncommon to hear them whistling while they work, (yes I know) or talking amongst themselves or to others on the phone trying to get people in in a courteous and timely manner. I do not mind having the Marshmann’s here. They are so respectful and obviously love what they do, I am certain I would be hard pressed to find another contractor who was better. Not to mention their “screwing” does not bother me one bit, each drive of the screw driver sounds nice and their hammering does not sound angry.

So as lie in bed I realize everyone has a different way in which they “screw” and I started to think about the people I had heard “screw.”

The purposeful screw

This would be my Glenny (he will choke when he read this I am sure) , absolutely everything Glenn does is for a reason and has a purpose, he rarely meanders about with out a reason and is very particular about jobs he would tie his name to. When I have heard him “screw”, (that is so funny, I can’t stand it). He does not mess around, he is there to get a job done and you can hear it. In all I would say it is very much how he runs his life.

The I don’t want to hurt you screw (a.k.a. the mercy screw – only because I have to)

This is often me, when I hold a drill, or a hammer and have to do some “blue job”. I am always scared of wrecking something, (which is not uncommon) or hurting my self or someone else. (I am the girl who use to kick rocks home from school then feel bad because I had taken them away from there “rock families”, so had to make a new family’s for them with the “other” rocks I had kicked home at various points in the year.) Sooooo, my “screwing” is always a little hesitant before I find my groove.

The pressure screw, not.

This is my neighbor who I love dearly and who also seems to me to be able to any job in the world that she sets her mind to. But…… she can not “screw”, when ever Glenn and I listen to her it is almost painful. She starts quite forcefully then loses pressure and you hear a du, du, du, du, du, du, du, du……….. as the bit is slowly worn off because of lack of pressure.

Last but not least

The I don’t give a fuck screw

This is a person who shall remain nameless, but this person will “screw” anything because it is his, (oooop’s) God given right to do as he pleases. This person does not really care about the work that they do or how it looks when they are done, they are only concerned with banging out the job. This persons “screw” sounds random and the pressure is inconsistent, not to mention the relatively sloppy work that they do.

So there in a nutshell is “screwing as I hear it”, I am sure if you think about it you could think of a few personalities too. If you do let me know, I’d been keen to hear.

Posted in Adult, Uncategorized | 4 Comments »