Stage II: The waxing
Further on the Superman outfit. I'm as hairy as a grizzly bear. Actually, grizzly was my nickname back in the London days. So, although in the previous picture doesn't show that much, I had a hard time painting over the hair. And, believe me, you don't wanna see my back. If I fall back on a velcro pad, I'd get stuck.
So it seems compulsory to get a full body wax. And with that purpose I headed yesterday to the beauty saloon. Just to get an appointment, don't get excited yet. As I entered the saloon, I saw three tough looking guys waiting for their haircut. A member of the staff welcomes me and asks me how can he help. Suddenly, it seems to me that the whole saloon becomes as silent as outer space. I say, as low as I can, "I need to get a full body wax". The three blokes waiting turn their heads towards me in a perfectly synchronized movement. Eyes wide open. Wow, I'm sure they think I'm gay. I decide I don't care, I have a better frame than them and if anybody in that shop should be ashamed of getting waxed, it's definitely not me.
The staff member takes me downstairs, where an old lady asks me again. This time there are no curious ears around. Or so I think... Because as I tell the lady what I want, again, a gorgeous, hot, and I mean HOT, blonde, who is giving a haircut to some hopeless housewife, raises her head with interest.
"Full body wax?", says the hottie. "MAY I DO IT?". "Sure thing", replies the old lady, and handles the appointment book to her. The housewife suddenly becomes lonely and unattended.
I'm amazed. Gladly amazed.
The hot bunnie (HB from now on), smiles and asks me a few questions about what I exactly want. I doubt for a second about telling her what exactly I'd like from her. I decide to take it easy. "Full body wax. Maybe not the pubis". I say "maybe" because I feel like I could change my mind during the process. She writes down the time and date (Wed, 25th Oct, 15:30 h) and gives me a card with all the details.
I know it's gonna hurt. Maybe it'll hurt like nothing has hurt before. But if I manage to get something out of the HB (a phone number? maybe offering her to join me at the party as Lois Lane?), it might be worth it. The waxing will take two hours. Probably I'd need to gulp down a bottle of whisky and a bottle of vodka before the show. But then the HB could take advantadge of me without me enjoying the experience.
Anyway, I'm scared to death.
EXTRA: If somebody is around Cambridge next Monday and has nothing to do after lunch, I offer a funny and entertaining talk. Coffee and biscuits afterwards are on me.
So it seems compulsory to get a full body wax. And with that purpose I headed yesterday to the beauty saloon. Just to get an appointment, don't get excited yet. As I entered the saloon, I saw three tough looking guys waiting for their haircut. A member of the staff welcomes me and asks me how can he help. Suddenly, it seems to me that the whole saloon becomes as silent as outer space. I say, as low as I can, "I need to get a full body wax". The three blokes waiting turn their heads towards me in a perfectly synchronized movement. Eyes wide open. Wow, I'm sure they think I'm gay. I decide I don't care, I have a better frame than them and if anybody in that shop should be ashamed of getting waxed, it's definitely not me.
The staff member takes me downstairs, where an old lady asks me again. This time there are no curious ears around. Or so I think... Because as I tell the lady what I want, again, a gorgeous, hot, and I mean HOT, blonde, who is giving a haircut to some hopeless housewife, raises her head with interest.
"Full body wax?", says the hottie. "MAY I DO IT?". "Sure thing", replies the old lady, and handles the appointment book to her. The housewife suddenly becomes lonely and unattended.
I'm amazed. Gladly amazed.
The hot bunnie (HB from now on), smiles and asks me a few questions about what I exactly want. I doubt for a second about telling her what exactly I'd like from her. I decide to take it easy. "Full body wax. Maybe not the pubis". I say "maybe" because I feel like I could change my mind during the process. She writes down the time and date (Wed, 25th Oct, 15:30 h) and gives me a card with all the details.
I know it's gonna hurt. Maybe it'll hurt like nothing has hurt before. But if I manage to get something out of the HB (a phone number? maybe offering her to join me at the party as Lois Lane?), it might be worth it. The waxing will take two hours. Probably I'd need to gulp down a bottle of whisky and a bottle of vodka before the show. But then the HB could take advantadge of me without me enjoying the experience.
Anyway, I'm scared to death.
EXTRA: If somebody is around Cambridge next Monday and has nothing to do after lunch, I offer a funny and entertaining talk. Coffee and biscuits afterwards are on me.
Comentario:
Don't worry. As long as you keep posting your shirtless pics, I will keep coming back.
The date has come and gone. What happened?
The date has come and gone. What happened?
Comentario:
Dearest Oxeador...
The Viola and Chicho nicks were after, I think... No, no... They were before. Yes, they were before.
What I don't remember is before what...
Love you, Oxy. You're one of the, say, five key persons on my life. I'm honoured to have you here. Hope I'll never be called Chicho Terremoto again, hehe. But if it's you who does it, I'm still glad.
The Viola and Chicho nicks were after, I think... No, no... They were before. Yes, they were before.
What I don't remember is before what...
Love you, Oxy. You're one of the, say, five key persons on my life. I'm honoured to have you here. Hope I'll never be called Chicho Terremoto again, hehe. But if it's you who does it, I'm still glad.
Comentario:
So, your nickname name was "Grizzly". Was that before or after "Viola"? What about "Chicho"?
Comentario:
¿Te has vuelto LOCO? No solo son las dos horas de autentica tortura (más que whisky, yo te recomendaría un Valium, o quiza both...) piensa que cuando te empiecen a salir los pelillos de nuevo, lo cual no tardará en suceder,un elevado porcentaje muestra la desagradable tendencia a crecer por debajo de la piel provocando la aparición de un ejercito de granos purulentos. Claro que en ese caso puedes cambiar tu disfraz de Superheroe por el de "La Peste Bubónica". ¿Por que no te embadurnas de crema de afeitar y te pasas la Gilette, (o la Wilkinson Sword, teniendo en cuenta dónde estás)? Puede ser divertido si pides ayuda a alguna compañera de trabajo para llegar a zonas poco accesibles.
Si al final te decides por la cera, lo de Superman te aseguro que NO será un disfraz, seras el auténtico!!!
Mucha suerte
Si al final te decides por la cera, lo de Superman te aseguro que NO será un disfraz, seras el auténtico!!!
Mucha suerte
Comentario:
Por lo que parece, si te toca una chica que te depile que sea maja, se te hará más agradable la tortura, tengo comprobado que si mientras me depilan estás hablando con la chica, no te enteras (bueno, más o menos), me refiero que se te pasa mejor que si estás pendiente a cada tirón, así te duele más. Ánimo y que no te duela mucho, jeje.
P.D.: has hecho bien en no depilarte el pubis, eso si que duele un huevo (nunca mejor dicho).
P.D.: has hecho bien en no depilarte el pubis, eso si que duele un huevo (nunca mejor dicho).