Monday, June 25, 2012

Beardos, The Moo-stash & Pitbull

I am not gonna lie.  I am flat out *confused* by the whole facial hair revolution.  Everywhere I look there's a mustache these days & the big, bushy beard a la James Harden is only making things worse.  I'm totally down with the goatee though, and I'm not gonna knock it 'til it starts rubbin' my shoulders a bit too much.  Bad Gwen.

My hubby's constantly pointing out other dudes' facial hair asking me if it looks "hot."  My normal response is usually, "Ummmm, helllll no."  But occasionally it "works" for me.  I am totally feelin' the messy, faint, newly-grown-out stubble of say, HIM...
God damn, my boyfriend is lookin' hot here!
But HIM?  Not so much...
PS ~ Nice satchel, fat Jesus.

So the other day, Scott was gettin' a little shaggy, and I hear the electric razor goin' to town in the bathroom.  I'm horrified when I see the "finished" product.  OMG.  Yep, my sexy hubby was sportin' a 'stache.  I'm just not sure moo-stashes works for anyone just everyone... knowmsayin'?
Why hello, child molester perv, dear hubby o' mine!  Shave that shit off!

No seriously, fake, stalkerish Tom Selleck -- axe that pubestache PRONTO.
It was then that things took a horrible turn.  Let me backtrack a bit though or this won't make any sense.

OK, so one day as Cal was playin' DJ in the car, a Pitbull song came on & I insisted he change the channel.  I just cannot STAND that guy.  Not sure what it is?  Partly the whole TTH (Trying Too Hard) thing, but mostly he's just so fucking annoying.  I'm down with hip-hop/rap/R&B, but this guy is just a total CREEPER.
The Pencil Mustache at its not-so-finest

Sweet mouthbrow, bruh.

So you can imagine my horror when Cal decides it would be fun to try to recreate this dude's shady look.  Check me...
Nice glasses, madam.

Babyyyyy, ohhhh babyyyyy, my sweet baby, you're the one!
(This is the only good line from Pitbull's latest "Back In Time" release -- and yes, it's the only part he's not singing.  :)

Apparently the hubs overheard Cal & I laughing our asses off over his new look, and he returned yet again to the bathroom for some further manscaping.  And THIS is where things got U-G-L-Y.  Observe...
(Sans Flavor Saver)
All of a sudden I feel so fucking DIRTY.

And violated.  Think I saw this guy on the FBI's website somewhere??!!
The icing on the cake was this final shot...
Creepiest Lady Tickler on the planet.  Whiskers down.

Pitbull ain't got NOTHIN' on you, babe.  For reals.  

(I still love you, but promise me you'll never haunt me this way everrrrrrr again!!!!!  You may be spawning my f'ed up dreams!)


Saturday, June 23, 2012

Dream interpret this bad boy...

Alrighty, dream interpreters, riddle me this.  Just a heads up, I wish I could tell you this was gonna be as easy to decipher as my last memorable dream where I got it on all hot & heavy with Tyrese, but sadly, it is not.  I am gonna need you to seriously THRUST ("thrust" may just be my favorite word on the planet & here's why... 100% of time for me it has a sexual connotation yet is socially appropriate in ANY circumstance.  Boom!) yourselves into this experience fully and lay down what you think this f'ed up dream means and/or represents to me.  I am utterly horrified and semi-freaking out right now that I may need counseling/medications/alcohol to deal with this.  And I'm feeling a little bit exposed sharing this nightmare dream with all of you, just as I did while it played out.  (No clue why after exposing myself earlier this year with my shart attack post!)

Okay, so last night (or was it this morning?), I dreamt that like eight or nine different people (all of whom I know well -- hell, may have even been one of you!) saw me taking a dump.  Not only did they keep walking in on me, but they also kept leaving the door open, and wouldn't you know that it happened DURING A PARTY (who craps during a shindig unless you have cha-cha-cha anyway?!?!?), so multiple people saw me:

A.  Naked from the waist down 
B.  Possibly passing an actual turd
C.  In a semi-hunched over shitting position (for speed, yo.  Kind of like milking your own belly to help you go faster?!  Should have hit up The Shit Whisperer instead!) 
D.  Standing up to wipe (please tell me I'm not the only one... it's just such a better angle!  Scott disagrees & opts for the awkward side-cheek-tilt, which actually once cracked one of our wooden toilet seats.  L is for LOSER.)
E.  Pulling my pants back up

Each time my "friends" burst in on me, they looked, their eyes widened, they laughed hysterically, and then they said they were "SO SORRY!" before leaving again, conveniently leaving the door ajar.  Each time, I would scream out between laughs & cries, "Seriously, can I not shit in peace?!?!  SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR!!!!"  Because even *I* knew that was some funny shit (pun intended), but I certainly didn't want to be the one they saw layin' logs.  So it happened again... and again... and again.

Lest you think I'm a freak or something (oopsy daisies, too late for that…), for the record, I was only on the head for all of like 3-4 minutes as this all went down.  I was being quick (you know, I went in sans iPhone)!  Such bullshit.

Thoughts?!?!?!  Decode me!!!!!
My dog, Pre used to eat my other dog, Halley's lawn sausages straight from the tap, but that's a whole 'nother story!



**This post was also featured on Aiming Low!
HONORED to be a guest writer over there!!**
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