Hot People are Completely Hairless

I waxed my eyebrows earlier this week, although I don't know why I waxed them. First of all, it wasn't exactly as though I had a couple of furry caterpillars crawling across my face in the first place, and secondly, I'm generally not doing anything where the state of my eyebrows really matters. The only men I've so much as SEEN over the past month have either been crusty old (or handsome, but married - OR handsome, but unattractively full of themselves) doctors, gay nurses (I know...not all male nurses are gay...just all the ones I've met), and of course, denim guy. Call me picky, but none of those guys really turns my crank.

Also, it hurts. A whole bunch.
This picture is of embarrasingly poor quality and was taken AFTER the esthetician had moisturized the area, AND I had bussed home. So really, it doesn't give the full picture. However, directly after, I looked as though I had some sort of tribal henna tattoo or cattle brand applied to my face...sort of like this:Now, my face is constantly exposed to the elements. Surely, in all these years of snow and sunburn and expired makeup, I've developed some sort of shield for the pain (And believe me, it was still very painful). But it occurs to me that some women wax other parts of their bodies. They wax parts of their bodies that (hopefully) are not constantly exposed to a constant onslaught of snow and sunburn and expired makeup...parts of their body that are very...sensitive.

The reason I'm so concerned is that beach season is pretty much here and I foresee having problems with "foliage." There's really no good way to get rid of it. I have a problem with shaving...first of all, it's a weird angle...and I don't REALLY want to be fooling around with a razor in an area with which I can't make DIRECT eye contact. There are creams...but again...sensitive area...corrosive creams strong enough to MELT HAIR??? The last thing any of us wants down there is a chemical burn.

So my last choice is waxing, which brings with it a few concerns as well. First of all, it pretty much necessitates that I allow a complete stranger to (A) stare at my "bikini area" (what a great "family-friendly" expression) for 30 to 60 minutes, and (B) inflict pain upon it in exchange for money. There's just something a little messed up about that. Especially since there are only a select few who have seen my "bikini area," and that was under the express conditions that they NOT inflict pain upon it (and for the record, I did not pay them).

I'm also still very concerned about that cattle brand. How long will it stay? How hard will it be to walk?

Obviously, I'm not quite ready for the goo, press and pull down there just yet...but I'm thinking by August, I'm going to have to give it a try. Pain is beauty?

Hot People Definitely Don't Go Cougar Clubbing

While there's something to be said for being one of the five prettiest girls at the club, sometimes it just doesn't mean that much.

For example, last night my roommate and I were invited out by a woman nearly twice our age to go out with some of her friends. My roommate unknowingly accepted an invitation out to the club because she thought she was being invited for dinner...not one to pass up free food, she accepted before she knew what she was getting into. Since we've been pretty much caged up in our apartments for the last few weeks, I thought it would be fun to tag along anyway...you know, see the sights of our new city.

Ok, so I should start off by letting you know that we were looking pretty fine (I think so anyway...). Observe. I was pretty proud of my outfit choice and my continued makeup skillz (note my use of blending brush in this gratuitously narcissistic self-portrait)
Don't I look intense? Yeah...but anyway, I understand that I may not look hot just yet by many people's standards, but you really just have to understand where we were. First, meet our chaperone.
We were greeted first by her mushroom cloud of perfume (I say mushroom cloud because it was strong enough to knock us over when we opened the door to her car), then by her delightful hairdo. From this angle it looks almost reasonable, but let me tell you, from the back view you can see that parts of it stand a full four inches above her head. FOUR INCHES!!! It was amazing to behold...not to mention nearly impossible to smother my gleeful laughter at beholding it. She, and she alone, must be the driving force behind Vidal Sassoon's continued success in the world of hairspray.

Upon realizing who we were spending our evening with, I decided that there was really nothing for it but to get completely drunk'd. This may have been my greatest mistake. By the time we got in the cars to go from our hostess' fine abode (it really was quite nice) to "the club" I'm pretty sure walking (let alone anything that might involve any sort of gross motor skill) was more or less out of the question.

I said at the beginning that we were among the five hottest people in the bar. I think your introduction to my hostess has put that into perspective, but if it does not, perhaps the fact that the result of me trying to look sexy (at least I think that's what I'm trying to do here...the two drinks in one hand really adds to my appeal, no?) had only negligible effect on my standings in the hotness rankings.

That being said, I learned many things last night.

1. The DJs here will play anything you want if you first bait them about how the DJs where you're from do it better, then subsequently provide them with hugs (I'm not really sure that EVERY hug was worth the songs he played).

2. The stripper pole is harder to use than hoe-bags in shresses make it seem.

3. Even if you dance with the best looking single guy in the club, it doesn't really count for much if he's clad head-to-toe in denim. (I actually also danced with another man who was much better looking, but my roommate was too intoxicated to use my camera properly, so unfortunately, no record was kept of that delightful encounter). I'm not sure what we're doing here...

4. ALWAYS have a quarter in your pocket for when shit gets real (or in this case, you start to realize that you're not only among the prettiest, you're actually also among the youngest people around, by a sizeable margin). It's also helpful to remember a cab number or two.

So in conclusion, our first night on the town was a moderate success, but I think we'll try somewhere a little more age appropriate next time...and possibly will forego hearing Flo Rida's "Get Low" if it means I can keep my hugs to myself.