Blame Canada

Now that I have had a night to think about it, I realized that I may have inadvertently discovered the key to fobbing off all of my shortcomings (of which, my friends, there are many!!) What is this key you ask??

BLAME CANADA.

In the interest of time, I have listed all the reasons why for you:

(a) Are they a real country? They still ask the queen for stuff, but they're not part of the UK? (or are they? Wow. I actually have NO idea...that's pretty sad. Although, I'm moving to Khartoum soon and, frankly, can barely spell it, let alone pretend to know anything about where it is, what is claims to do, or what the issues are. Look! I didn't hire me!! I cannot possibly be blamed for this one...Who's the dummy here??)

(b) They totally f'd up bacon. Canadian bacon is NOT bacon. It's gross, its floppy, unpossible to make crispy..NOT bacon. End of argument. gag

(c) A whole section of their country speaks a different language - granted, sometimes I think people from the South, and Texas in particular may also be borderline, non-english speakers, but still...at least we didn't go french.

(d) Celine Dion.

Not that I have officially identified a fall-guy/fall-country, I will feel more free to just let loose!

In fact!! My most FAVORITE thing to do is to casually tell unmarried boys girley stuff. The look on their faces is priceless...and well worth any humiliation that may follow...For instance, I have recently signed up for laser hair removal. (seriously, how cool is that? Finally, someone listened to my copious complaints of having to wax and shave...for the love of all that is holy...When will it end?!)

BUT, as I have probably mentioned to you all approximately 82 times, I am moving to Khartoum soon...I was terrified that there would not be the same number of salons available to me for waxing and pedicures. Honestly! Do you think Sudan imports the same number of foreigners to run their salons?? I can't have just anyone doing my brows! my god man! I'm not a heathen!! SOOO, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Now this may shock you; however, there is nothing naturally cute about me. I need layers of Spackle, plucking, tweezing, blow drying and probably some air brushing -- and this is pretty much just so I don't scare small children. Knowing this, and accepting my fate. I signed up as soon as I found a sale. (I am, however, naturally cheap -- I know! I'm a riddle, frankly).

Anyway, my point is that I LOVE to tell unmarried men that I am headed in to "get my laser hair removal on for my Mustachio-bashio..." The look of shock and awe is a sight to behold.

They sit there in utter silence for approximately 3 minutes while they try to determine if what I am saying is not what they think it is, hoping against all hope that perhaps they have just misunderstood me......This is then followed by a small squeak and stutter while they try to say something that will not be offensive to me (give it up boys! there is NOTHING you can say that we cannot turn into an insult in our heads. You would be better off just yelling "LIAR!" and running away.)

You can see every emotion on their face. What makes it even MORE hilarious is that they are clearly thinking that I am the monster -- that I have some sort of carnie freak disorder that would force me to have to seek treatment.

clearly. Because I am the only girl in the world who has to wax.. My God! I am such a freak that they have opened salons in every strip mall in America -- under cover as seemingly benign nail salons, however, they offer waxing services -- on the off chance that I might be in the neighborhood and should ever decide to come in...They're READY!

Yes, your significant other is different.

I wish these men well in their future marriage or relationship when they realize that I was not a super freak....only just an inappropriate share-er. The true carnie freaks would be the ones who have NOT visited those nails salons with the "waxing" neon light in the window.

That said, perhaps you boys might want to consider that it just might not be prudent for you to actually CALL your significant other on her need to wax. Not that I am naming any names Josh, but perhaps like say, coming home and adopting a french accent while you pretend to twirl your mustache curls and going "Oui Oui! Bon Jour!!" and/or referring to it as our "molestache"...I'm just saying....use your best judgement here. And when I say "best," I mean think of what you would do, and then do the opposite.

Good rule of thumb to live by: It's funny when I say it....not so much when you do.