So The Man comes to me, holding one of my devices. “Baby, what are*these*?” The “these” in question are my eyelash curlers. Why was he in my bathroom? Was he pissing in my toilet again? I bet he left the toilet seat up.***Tangent Alert*** I don’t really care about that whole debate. It’s not like I back onto the thing with my eyes closed. I’m not a total freaking retard. But we’re talking about MY bathroom. The pink & green one with the “Powder Room” sign and the flowery shower curtain. Show some goddam respect. Put the seat back down!!!! Wipe up the piss droplets and PUT THE EFFING SEAT BACK DOWN!
“Those are Labia Pinchers.”
Him, in utter horror, “What? Wha..WHAT?!”
|Eye lash curlers|
“Yes. You know how women get UTIs occasionally? (he nods) Well, we drink cranberry juice and sometimes need antibiotics (don’t get me going on the yeast infections! -he shakes his head like a good boy-), but… well sometimes it still stings like a motherfucker to take a piss, so…”He’s starting to look concerned now. “Well, so sometimes it helps if we take a syringe at flush out the urethra. (he’s looking green now) Those help hold the hood and/or clitoris back… Are you okay sweetie? Maybe you should go sit down.”
Him, “Babydoll, I Googled those labia pinchers and I can’t find anything about that shit.” Me, “Not Sher, Shitlock. Try an image search on eyelash curlers. Now what do you want for dinner? I’m thinking something brain-foody.”
Stay the fuck out of Sector Pink, like I told you. Next time you’ll get a chemical burn or something, LAUGHING FOR DAYS!!