most recent entry, I realized that it had been ages since I’d Nair’d off my now-full and lush mustache. I use the Nair made especially for the face and I’ve never had a problem with it, aside from a small amount of redness that usually goes away overnight.
So yesterday morning, after working out and cooling down, I headed upstairs to doing some Nairing. I slathered the Nair above my lip and around my chin (making a Nair beard, sort of), and proceeded to clean out the drawer that is located between my sink and Fred’s sink.
It’s amazing how much old medicine for the cats we tend to hold on to. I think I tossed about half the crap in that drawer.
Ten minutes after I put the Nair on my face – the time limit suggested on the back of the bottle is ten minutes, and I have some stubborn whiskers on my face, so I go right up to the ten minute mark – I went into the bathroom to wash it off.
Imagine my surprise when a layer of skin came off with the Nair. It FUCKING HURT, people, and it hadn’t hurt at all until I wiped it off. And I’ve NEVER had this problem before! I slapped some soothing hydrocortisone cream on the red skin, hoping that would take away some of the redness.
It did not. The skin itched and burned and hurt and caused me all manners of pain. When I could bear to look at myself in the mirror, I appeared to have a red beard entirely around my mouth and chin. A blotchy red beard.
And, no. I did NOT take a picture, thank you.
Last night at bedtime, I recalled the bottle of aloe we keep under the sink, and since aloe is so very soothing and surely meant for just such an occasion, I retrieved it and slathered it liberally on the red skin, and then I waited for the soothing. Which did not come. It STUNG, and for a good ten minutes.
“It got redder after you put the aloe on,” Fred observed.
“That’s because it fucking HURTS!” I yelled.
Never occurred to me to go wash it off, though. Duh.
This morning, thankfully, it’s a lot better. I have a scablike spot below and to the left of my nose, and another one a bit lower, but I could almost go out in public without being pointed at. Almost.
I’m sure if I was going to JournalCon this year it would be a lot worse, since that’s how it usually works out.
* * *
Possible The Bachelor spoilers in this section.
I just hate that fucking L3e Ann. I HATE HER. Which sucks, because I think she’s just adorable as can be. YET I LOATHE HER. This shit the bachelorettes are pulling in the last few seasons of
The Bachelor, where they say “Oh, I’m not HERE to make FRIENDS, I’m here to be with
The Bachelor!” Yeah? Well, that’s all good and everything, but there is NO fucking reason to be an obnoxious twat-head while she’s there. What the fuck does it hurt to be nice to the other people? And why whine about being shut out by the other girls, when she runs around being such an ass? HOW can she, with a STRAIGHT FUCKING FACE, claim that they’re shutting her out because she has such a deep and abiding “connection” with Bob? Personally, I think this “connection” is all in her mind. I could KILL Bob for giving her a rose last night, I really could.
My money says that Le3 Ann and Mer3dith will be the last two standing, and Mer3dith will come out the winner. Please, please, PLEASE.
Yeah, I know. I need a life. Shaddup.
* * *
I think I must be coming down with something. Not only did I clean out the drawer in our bathroom yesterday, but after Fred went to bed last night I cleaned the entire bathroom, dusted the entire upstairs, and cleaned out the crap under our respective bathroom sinks.
How many bottles of rubbing alcohol DOES one family need, anyway?
This morning I scrubbed out the litter boxes, vacuumed the entire upstairs, mopped the bathroom and laundry room, cleaned the kitchen (including cleaning out the refrigerator), vacuumed the entire downstairs – INCLUDING THE STAIRS – and took all the trash out. Also, I cleaned out the junk drawer in the kitchen – how many syringes to give medicine to cats DOES one family need, anyway? If you said twelve, you’d be right, apparently – cleaned out the closet off the kitchen, and cleaned out under the kitchen sink.
I don’t think the house has been this clean since we moved in.
And I’m not done yet. I’m making vague plans to dust the entire downstairs, clean and straighten all the bookshelves in the library, and go around with the swiffer to get all the cobwebs that form around the ceilings.
Kind of scary, isn’t it?
* * *
This morning, while Fred was getting ready for work, Miz Poo was eating. The cats like to hang out in the bathroom and eat while we’re in there, for some reason. Stanley came happily along, and sat down next to Miz Poo. Casually, he reached his head forward to grab a piece of food.
Ears back, Miz Poo growled at Stanley and then reached out with her Paw O’ Doom and slapped him soundly on the top of his little head. Stanley responded by putting his ears all the way back and glaring at her. She went back to eating, and Stanley again put his face in the dish to get some food.
Again with the growl and the slap. It happened two or three more times, and then finally Miz Poo gave up. That’s right, folks, she GAVE UP. She walked away from the food dish, sat down next to the tub, and glared at Stanley as he ate.
I believe Miz Poo’s reign of terror is about at an end.
* * *
He fell asleep like this. He’s a very heavy sleeper.
Yawwwwwwwwwn.
I love this picture of Gizmo and her big sister Dulcinea. Why do I have the feeling that a smackdown is about to happen?
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