I've been having nightmares about man-bush Mohawks. I'm tripping over tattooed men, freakin' cats with freakin' laser beams on their heads, and Pepto-pink Tasers. My Gmail ad is: "Explorer: Pursuing Belize’s Feathered Treasure." This can only add up to one thing: years of therapy.
Oh, wait, it means that other thing: once again, I've loaned my blog to Zipcode, and, as ever and ever shall be, she's chosen to write about pubes.
Take it away, Zip!
Its TMI Thursday and Shannon asked me to guest post with an update on manscaping. If you recall last year I did a guest post on manscaping and skeeved out half of blogger world, (Shan's note: funniest comment thread, EVER) which was damn funny.
So, Zipcode broke her own damn rules. Ya know how I preferred my man trimmed or it all shaved off. Well - ya know Satan, well he wasn't the best manscaper in the world. The whole branch in the bushes theory came with him. He advised, after much bitching on my behalf, he would trim it down. Well, its a good thing he doesn't work for a landscaping company, because he does a really bad job of trimming down things.
Seriously, I know from personal experience its no fun to dive into the bushes to find the branch and his two friends. Trim it down. That was number complaint sexually with Satan -- he didn't trim his stuff down. Buy some scissors, a razor, whatever and trim your hedges dudes!