Sexless In Seattle

No More Mr. Nice Guy: Nair

If you haven’t read my last memoir on how to better yourself and open the flood gates, check into that first.

Now that you’re all caught up, lets get down to business. Being waxing salons are practicing reverse sexism and don’t offer the Brazilian wax to males, I had to take matters into my own hands. With a belly as smooth as the magestic bottled nose dolphin, it’s now time for the rest of the hardware to match. By hardware, I mean the shrubbery that surrounds my upper thighs. If you’ve ever attempted to manscape around your bologna pony, you know how strenuous the process can be. Ladies, you think giving birth is hard? Try meticulously cutting hair like a neurosurgeon attempting not to splice open your manhood. It’s one of the most petrifying experiences a man can encounter. Not to mention the aftermath of appearing like you contracted a new form of scabies on your genitals. Enter Nair for Men. Much like Channing Tatum’s index finger, Nair is the talk of the town on the Twitter. Naturally, I fought through that war zone that is the Publix parking lot and bought myself a bottle.

The first thing you need to know about Nair is the rancid aroma it protrudes. The odor is what I imagine a burnt condom full of hairspray smells like.

As I applied the Nair balm which has the consistancy of Elmer’s glue; a warm sensation overtakes the wilderness that is my privates. The pleasant feeling abruptly turned to a sweltering hell. You know that horrendous burning sensation you feel in your throat after a fireball shot? Imagine that on your balls. Frantic, I reach for the bottle and in the fine print it prohibits applying to the genital area. On the hind sight, my boys were as smooth as crystal pearls. One thing to be weary about using Nair is the aftermath. Like dropping them into a bucket of acid, my boys looked like the top of a turkey’s gobbler. For two weeks I genially thought I had an STD due to the aftermath of Nair. Thankfully you must be sexually active to qualify; lucky me. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Categories: Sexless In Seattle

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