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The fuzzy animal called love

I have so far experienced three main stages of missing my baby:
- “I’ll see you soon” drunken elation
- optimistic day by day “I love you”
- “Wish you were here” horny agony

Philosophical side-effects of making pretty

When I did what I did I had feared the process and ignored the consequences I am now reminded are without fail more ferocius. When one is already way in one’s thirties, one should trust common sense more and vanity less.

You are probably wondering what the heck is he talking again. Oh, well, I had my back waxed. Before too soon I was happy on my way, I had not reached my pain threshold and had my back as smooth as linoleum, ready for the cuddling weekend with my baby. But, damn those buttbabies making, since I am not living in a nudist colony I had to wear clothes. Despite calming balm and cotton t-shirts without inside labels… remember that Sex and City episode? it’s me! My back looks like a stellar map, only red. I have until Friday to make it go away. Oh, where is the Fairy Godmother when you need her him?

As for you kids, there is a life lesson in every waxing you take. You don’t believe me? then go read paragraph one again. Now, go play and be merry.

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