| ASS HAIR I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to all though tasteless, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble pooping. No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't- Be-Flushed threshold. I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey, this is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea. I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occasionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn babe. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over. Little did I know. I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry. Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic poop -molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky poop/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm. Unfortunately, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering poop/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own poop blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks." Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil. As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony. Friends-DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR! |
| European Lamentation I'll admit, I don't know the first thing about Europe or it's native people - assholes. Maybe my inferior, American education is to blame. Or maybe it's because Europe is stupid and boring and I'd much rather sit around playing videogames than take the time to learn anything about it. Whatever the case, what little I do know about my ancestors is limited to a handful of cultural stereotypes: They like soccer, the women don't shave and they all smell bad. Now I know there are a number of Europeans that read this site, so before you all get your knickers in a knot, let me explain some things to you: 1) Here in America, we are constantly reminded of how much Europeans love soccer. We are also constantly reminded, by Europeans, that we're all idiots for not enjoying soccer as much as they do. So, if you have a problem with our country thinking that you're all a bunch of drunken soccer hooligans, maybe you should stop reminding us of how much you love soccer all of the time. Also: soccer. Personally, I have nothing against soccer. In fact, it was one of the few sports I enjoyed playing as a kid. The problem is that I just don't enjoy watching sports, and that includes baseball, football, soccer and those Magic: The Gathering tournaments that are on ESPN 2 at three in the morning. 2) OK, so I have no idea why we're all convinced European women are a bunch of hairy circus freaks. Maybe it's one of those stereotypes that's been around a little too long for me to understand. I do know that out of all the European porn I've downloaded (and it's a lot), none of the broads had any unsightly body hair, so I suppose we can file this one under "unjustified". 3) As I'm sure you all know, but may not recognize for fear of the PC Police busting down your door, people of certain ethnic backgrounds do indeed smell bad. This summer I came to realize why Europeans are often lumped into this group: European windows. For those of you lucky enough not to know what European windows are, I will try my best to explain: Imagine a giant sheet of glass, about six feet tall by four and a half feet wide. That is your window. Doesn't sound too bad, right? Now imagine that the only way you could open this monstrosity was by manipulating a finicky, overly-complicated lever and opening the entire plate of glass towards you like a refrigerator door. That's a European window and my apartment is full of them. As a matter of fact, that's all I've got. This definitely isn't something I knew about when I signed the lease. I guess my spoiled ass is used to taking things like normal, operating windows for granted. And now that it's July and 95 degrees in Pennsylvania (that's not factoring in shit like the "heat index"), I've been spending a lot of time kicking myself in my swampy ass for it. No lie, it has consistently been at least 84 degrees in my apartment, if not hotter. A couple of days last week, my old school dial thermometer maxed out at 90. I've sweating like that fat fuck from Internet Gossip every time he struggles to breathe. Zing! So why is it so hot? Because, for one, these windows don't stay open. You pull them open even a little bit and they swing right back shut. But that's not even the worst of it, oh no. Due to the construction of these fucking things, I can't put an air conditioner or even a window fan in them. I'm doomed to a summer of inescapable heat and poor air circulation. I can only imagine this is the smelly, disgusting hell Europeans live in every day. Unless Europeans don't even use European windows. That sure would make me look like a real ass. |
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