Tuesday, December 22, 2009

If I call this "Highway to Hell" would that be too obvious?

Everyone is on their own road to discovery and enlightenment.

Some roads are smooth and black with perfectly straight yellow lines. Some roads have a pot hole or two, a few curves, and maybe the lines are a bit faded. Some are never ending dirt roads under a canopy of trees, the light never quite penetrating through. Some are four lane freeways crisscrossed with bridges, but with plenty of signs to point the way.

I’m going to hazard a guess that my metaphorical road looks a bit like this:

It’s scenic. Around every turn there’s something beautiful. The view from that road is so spectacular that I can’t imagine choosing another route.

Until, that is, those bastard ass rocks start falling from above and smashing around my car that has one too many miles on it, a bumper that doesn’t match, and a fuel tank that’s always hovering close to empty. Oh, and sometimes the gas pedal gets stuck and I go careening around those deadly curves, desperately trying to keep things in line so that I don’t go plummeting off the side of this scenic mountain.

So basically what I’m saying is my road to discovery and enlightenment is trying to kill me. Let’s look at the evidence, shall we? Just this past weekend will do.

*Note: If you don’t want to read about my vagina. Stop. Reading. Now.

Friday night I was in the shower. Naked, because that’s how I roll.

I was shaving my legs and my bizness (for you newbies, that means vagina) because Cosmo says it’s the way to a man’s wallet heart...and also I may have let things run a little rampant lately. I mean, it’s not like anyone has been down there checking out the accommodations recently! Don’t give me any shit. Anyway, so I was shaving and I thought to myself, “Self, why not try something a little new and sassy. You can always go back to bald if you don’t like it. Let’s make it PRETTY! OOWA OOWA! Raise the roof!”

Like you don’t dance in the shower and talk to yourself in your head? Psssh, whatever.

“Design, design...what kind of design?”

Animals were out, because I’m not that talented. A circle would be weird, like a button, and that might distract from the real, more important button. Also, it made me think of that phrase “button, button, who’s got the button” and I’d likely giggle at in inopportune time and they’d think I was laughing at them and get all offended, like men do.

That left me with two options: heart or lightening bolt. Both of those are SO done, but I don’t have the dexterity to do a skull and crossbones. With the lightening bolt I could take my pants off and be all “SHAZAM!” With the heart...aw, fuck it. I did the heart because it was the simplest. Nothing says love like a heart made of hair.

I started shaving the damn heart into my bizness and I was really concentrating. I had one leg propped on the side of the tub and the shower curtain open a bit for more light. Things were trucking along smoothly for a minute. Then, with one side down and one side to go, disaster struck.

WHAM! The door flew open and smacked into the wall, followed by the unmistakable sound of my sister in a rage.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t really concentrate on her distress as I was too busy with my own. When the door flew open and she started yelling like a banshee, it scared the living daylights out of me. I jumped and my hand jerked up at the same time, causing me to slice my bizness like a Christmas ham. I SLICED my BIZNESS.

On a pain scale of 1-10, I’d give it an 11 ½. Coming in right after the discontinuation of my make up at a solid 9 ½.

Had I known there were people behind her in the hallway I never would have screamed those sailor inspired obscenities, nor would I have opened up the curtain all the way and thrown the razor at her head. Maybe.

The cut was bad, but not nearly as bad as the bloody half heart. Symbolic maybe?

It was a good thing that I didn’t hook up with that guy later on that night. How does one explain a bandaged vagina?

Then there was Saturday.

My sister and I were supposed to leave early that morning and go shopping, but I was so hungover that I couldn’t leave my bed until almost noon. Of course that meant by the time we got downtown it was a madhouse.

The first place we went to was a toy store. There was barely enough room to move. Screaming kids and angry parents crammed the aisles, shoving each other and ripping off limbs when necessary.

I’m a fast shopper. I go in with a list, I get what’s on it, and I get the fuck out. So while my disinterested sister pushed the most busted ass shopping cart known to man behind me (seriously, it sounded like someone was shooting bee bees at a tin can every time the wheels went round and it had a “limp”), I plowed through the people and grabbed.

I was looking at a display of toy guns, you know, the kind that shoots foam dart thingies? I squatted down and found the one I was looking for on the bottom shelf. I reached for it at the same time as this kid, who I thought was after something else. He couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15 with shaggy black hair and he had a spiky belt to cut himself on if his pocket knife ever got dull.

We glared at each other. I yanked, he yanked, and we glared some more. I was too hungover to hang on much longer, all that yanking was making my head hurt. So I did the only thing I could. I accidentally on purpose tripped and stomped on his toes, causing him to yell and let go of the gun.

“Go Lee”, I yelled and took off around the corner. My poor sister tried to keep up with the busted buggy, leaving a trail of noise for him to follow. “Clang, pop, clang, pop, clang, pop.” He came after us, shouting and for no apparent reason other than being on the edge of sanity’s cliff; I turned around and pointed the toy gun at him, mouthed “motha fucka” while I did a little foot to foot dance, and left Lee to handle the damage.

Lee ignored him and he finally let her be. She found me a few minutes later and we finished up the rest of our shopping there without incident. Until we were at the checkout counter and the little shit decided to pop back in and cause a scene. I mean, really! Who does that?

There was a lot of pointing and his mother started yelling at me, saying I’d hit her son. The girl at the checkout looked confused and concerned, like she should turn me in or something. I’d already paid and they were bagging things up so I said, “Lady, I tripped and accidentally stepped on his toe. It’s a madhouse in here!” Then I took off before someone decided to investigate.

Unfortunately I ran into that kid and his mom all fucking day long. I think they were following me. I bought a hat just in case, but my sister refused to wear one because it would mess up her hair. Teenagers. All they care about is themselves.

Then there was the party on Saturday night that sucked ass. And more shopping on Sunday, this time with the mom, who has to scratch and sniff EVERYTHING, turning a two hour trip into a five hour trip. Etc, so forth and so on.

See what I mean? Beautiful scenery: nakedness in shower, lovely new merchandise and a full bank account, parties....etc.

Then BLAM!

Falling rocks and deadly curves: Sliced bizness, annoying teenagers, sucky entertainment and booze, psycho moms...etc.

I’ll bet you thought from the beginning that this post was going to be all mushy and “I’m happy and then people fuck it up by dying” or “Jesus rocks”.

Ha, well jokes on you. I’m not that deep.


Nina Patricia @ The Adventures of Nina Patricia said...

lol...I need to stop reading these at work!!!

Eric said...

Things aren't all that bad though surely...
ps - Cosmo's right.

Anonymous said...

Ha. Hahahahhaha. The bloody heart was the best ever.

Mr. Condescending said...

Oh my god are you fucking kidding me, that made me shiver in phantom pain.

P.T said...

You are a star! I never thought of 'landscaping' the bizness! LOL I just shave all off...and scratch like hell when it starts growing back...ugghhh...

And that shabby teenager? Tsk, tsk, tsk...

Hunter said...

You prison-shanked your lady parts? Yikes!

Anonymous said...

Aly - you are a rockstar... I would have called that a mortal wound and stayed in bed all weekend.

Anonymous said...

Your trip down the metaphorical road of life is a fascinating read!


Judearoo said...


You cut it...


I feel faint.

Oh Ally, this is not good. Not good in ANY way.

A thought: a modern bibical story (Im all up with the modern takes on Allyville at the moment): Ally cuts her fun zone and suddenly aquires the ability to take on squeeky wonky shopping trollies AND wrestles modern day - albeit foam-based - weaponry from skunk-eyed greasy teens. Kinda like a samson tale in reverse..?

miss. chief said...

hahaha "motha fucker"
that is SO something I would have done. and of course you ran into them all day. that's the way the world turns.

thatgalkiki said...

I have dont myself there too. I don't know what's worse; waxing it all, or slicing a piece of that skin off.

I am still a waxer to this day, so I guess I have my answer.

Thanks for this post - very fun read!

Ellie said...

Oh. Oh. My legs are still crossed for you. They may never open again.

Paige said...

yep--you are not the only one with the tore up bizness...I have done the exact same thing

j-face said...

what the? skulls and crossbones? there is room for skull and crossbones? is it like an italian man's chest down there?

mo.stoneskin said...

You poor, poor thing. Tell me your address and I'll send you a bottle of whisky and some bandaids.

For the record, I've never danced in the shower.

The Peach Tart said...

I'm hoping by now that the bizness is back to working order just in case Santa might bring you a nice "package". Merry Christmas to you and your family. Enjoy.

otherworldlyone said...

Nina: Maybe I should stop writing them at work...

Eric: Thanks buddy.

birdykins: Bloody half heart. I'm telling you...it's some kind of sign.

Mr.C: No, sir, I assure you I am not. I don't know what it feels like to be kicked in the balls, but I imagine this is either right up there with that or way past it.

P.T.: I usually do as well. No idea what possessed me, but you can be damn sure it won't happen again.

Hunter: Prison shanked...why didn't I think of that?

Rita: It's called medication and alcohol. Mix them. Everything is beeeeautiful.

Secretia: Thank you.

Judearoo: You and those stories...haha. It's becoming a habit I look forward to.

miss.chief: Maturity is overrated, you know. That's how it ALWAYS happens! Cut someone off driving, and they show up in your office as a new employee. Stomp on some kid's toe and his fat mom follows you everywhere. Sigh.

kiki: This was definitely worse than waxing. And waxing SUCKS.

Ellie: But you might have to pee...

Paige: Sisters in pain. I suppose there are worse things to have in common? Maybe.

J-ass: I will stab you in the eye.

Mo: Never offer to mail me whiskey unless you are absolutely serious. As for the dancing...try it. It's loads of fun.

Peach: Much better, thank you. I hope you have a lovely Christmas as well. Give Mr. Peach Tart a little ho ho ho.

Prosy said...

What is it with people bursting in on other people taking showers. Showers are for private time. No one respects my time in the shower either. I don't have the privacy to shave my biznes even into a servicable rectangle. Shameful, really.

Mr London Street said...

A razor wound next to your axe wound? Ouch. I winced through the whole lot but I especially loved "nothing says love like a heart made of hair".

otherworldlyone said...

Prosy: EXACTLY! What IS that??

MLS: Axe wound. No matter how many times I hear it/see it, I still laugh. They say you're supposed to mature with age, but I just seem to be getting worse.

erin said...

I decided to shave the completely unnoticeable hair off of my big toe once when I was a teen. Sliced a huge chunk off the top of my toe in the shower. Like a chunk that dislodged and floated off and had to be cleaned out of the drain thingy.

I did ALL of my shopping online this year...except for Rose's slippers. Which I bought at Sam's Club. No store-ing for me yo.

Maelstrom said...

I'm also an at-work blog reader and was poking around today and thought to myself, "Hey, why did I quit reading this one at work?"

Oh yeah, because I work in a cubicle and all of my nosey neighbors want to know what's so funny.

Anonymous said...

Dude. If I ever have another business card, I would like the phrase "I SLICED MY BIZNESS" on there somewhere. Firstly, because it's funny as shit and secondly because "random" is my middle name.

I have never managed to slice my bizness which is odd really because I have sliced every damn inch of leg at some time or other. I have a tough bizness I guess. My bizness is badass. I have an asbestos bizness, bitch.

P.S. that kid was asking for it. You should've kneed him in the knob.

NWO said...

hahahahaha! Why does a band-aided vagina make me laugh?

obviouslyapseudonym said...

I wish my life was half as exciting as yours.

Then again, maybe not.

Hahaa. Never read your blog before, but it's great. *Follow*