"Going to the chapel and I'm...

... not getting ma-a-arried. Gonna be a bridesmaid and that's really, really sca-a-ary...."

It's official - my little bro, Beavis, has set a date to be married, booked a church and, most offensive of all, his fiancee has asked that I be a bridesmaid in the wedding. Shoot me. As I have maintained throughout my rants - I mean posts - I am very happy for them and wish them all the best. I was looking forward to attending the wedding. I was not expecting to be in the wedding. It's like rubbing salt in a wound. My mother, the cloying event-planner June Cleaver-Blogshaw, is nothing less than thrilled. To ease the process of judgement for all, I'll be standing before everyone just begging to be picked apart like a witch on trial or a whore at church.... wait a minute.....

In summary, I will be forced to participate in the following torture:

* hen party ridiculousness
* shower ridiculousness
* I'll have to work extra hard at the gym to defy the laws of gravity in the meantime
* I'll have to buy and wear what will no doubt be a ridiculous and unflattering meringue-like dress
* I will literally have to stand in front of the jury and be on display for all to point and laugh at like the bearded lady at the circus (and, like said bearded lady, I would like to maintain that I am a victim of circumstance...)

Ohhhhh, and god help me, I'll have to participate in the humiliating ritual of the tossing of the bouquet, which, undoubtedly, I'm doomed to miss, drop or take right in the head!!!

Welcome To The Vajungle

Today’s word is vajungle - a term coined by one of G Spot’s witty mates. It is by far the best and funniest new word I’ve learned since I heard the term 'cankles' a couple of years ago (continues to crack me up!). Having been single for many, many years, I’ve had to keep up with the changing trends of manicuring as they pertain to my bikini line. Please see below for a chronological list of bikini line trends from my high school years to the present day:

* the full bush: demonstrated by Samantha Jones (as requested by Smith Jerrod) on SATC
* shaving: the ultimate indignity (stubble – yeesh!)
* the regular bikini wax: my personal favourite
* shaping: such as a heart for V-day or something equally as ridiculous…
* the “Telly Savalas” or “Hollywood” bald aesthetic: never appealed to me as I don’t date pedophiles…
* the Brazilian: can't do it - I'm half Italian....

I’m pretty pleased with the current landscape of my bikini line. Having recently seen a naked woman at the gym who appeared to be my age and had an incredibly hairy bikini line, I needed to check with G Spot to inquire if men’s preferences were reverting back towards a 1970’s aesthetic. This is when G Spot advised me of the vajungle. He and his friends have obviously discussed the aesthetics of the vajungle at length (literally!), and it seems that they would prefer not to weed-whack during foreplay. Fair enough.

Relieved to learn that I’m not considered to have a vajungle, I started to think of how much time I spend trimming, waxing and simply considering my bikini line. There have been times in the past where I have waxed for my own comfort, but let me tell you – when you aren’t having sex, waxing seems as unpleasant and unwelcome as a visit from Jehovah's Witnesses at your door on a Sunday morning (or any morning, come to think...). It’s so unfair - G Spot only has to shower before he comes over. Me? I have to trim, wax and pluck before I can f*ck!

If it's not one thing, it's my mother: too much information

My mother, the lovely yet altogether way too graphic (and apparently arid) June Cleaver Blogshaw, figures prominently in my posts. This is because she is a dominant and overbearing force in my life. Regardless, I do love the woman. Even after what happened this evening…

After a typical Blogshaw Sunday dinner, my mother (having dipped into the Grey Goose, white wine and what looked to be a Vicodin…) started telling jokes about sex. This always makes me nervous, as I have a nightmarish memory of walking in on Ward and June getting it on when I was a pre-teen. The image was horrifying and is burned deep into my memory. I can’t remember what I need to buy at the drug store or what I ate for lunch today, but I sure can tell you their favourite sexual position…

Anyhoo, June made some crack about condoms. Thinking that my parents haven’t had sex since that life-altering, memory-making moment years ago, I jokingly asked what brand she prefers. Well, it turns out she’s a Trojan woman and the convo went something like this:

June Cleaver-Blogshaw: “I like Trojan condoms.”
Carrie: “I prefer the femidom……”
June Cleaver-Blogshaw: “It’s true! Your father and I need to use condoms because I have a very dry vagina.”
~ shock. horror ~
Carrie: “I didn’t need to know that. You don’t do it very often…… right???”
June: “Well, your father does have a heart condition, you know…”
~ barf ~

Now, I’m glad that I have a close relationship with my mother, even if she drives me crazy most of the time. It’s great for mothers and daughters to be able to share stuff, but let me tell you, this sh*t should be off limits. For the love of God, I urge you, no matter what the conditions are, to walk away/cover your ears/hit yourself in the head with the closest iron skillet if your mother ever offers up too much information of that nature. Jeez!

Today's Funny

SO MUCH FUN

A suspicious husband hired a private eye to check on the movements of his wife. In addition to a written report, the husband wanted a video of his wife's activities.

A week later, the detective returned with a film. They sat down together and proceeded to watch it.

Although the quality was less than professional, the man saw his wife meeting another man! He saw the two of them strolling arm in arm and laughing in the park. He saw them enjoying themselves at an outdoor cafe. He saw them dancing in a dimly lit nightclub. He saw them take part in a dozen activities with utter glee.

"I just can't believe this," said the distraught husband.

"What's not to believe?" the detective said. "It's right up there on the screen!"

"I simply can't believe my wife could be so much fun!" the husband replied.

Discriminating Dating

What an uplifting story to start the new year..... According to The Telegraph (click on title above for link), a discriminating dating site called Beautiful People, has kicked thousands of members off their site due to the extra pounds they accumulated over the holidays. Wow. Getting through the holidays can be hard enough (seriously - I challenge any of you to spend the holidays with my mother and come out of it without developing a twitch, neurosis or intense insecurity...). Having to deal with being kicked off a dating site for beautiful people must be a bewildering blow.

In an attempt to keep members motivated over the holidays, my gym put posters up warning us that the average person puts on 7 pounds over the holidays. At first, I balked. How could that be possible? Then I encountered my aunt's homemade cheesecake... Needless to say, I doubt that my ass will ever look the same as it did before the holidays. Although I indulged, I am now back at the gym full force and hope to be fitter soon. As, I'm certain, the thousands of disgraced "fatties" intend to do also.

These so-called Beautiful People (I'll be the judge of that, thanks...) should be ashamed of themselves. First of all, gaining a few extra pounds in the wintertime can help protect the body against frigid and unholy temperatures. Also, as I can attest, having a little junk in the trunk can soften the blow when slipping on ice and landing on your can. Second of all, what do they think will happen next? Do they think this will motivate the munching members?? This added stress may send the peckish posse to further despair!

My thoughts on the business practices of the Beautiful People dating site? Get stuffed!